A moment later the door opened and a blond woman about Jem’s age poked her head in. She wore her hair in a cute ponytail, and rather than the power suit Jem expected, she was sporting jeans and a tank top, white sneakers, and an unbuttoned flannel that stretched across surprisingly broad shoulders. Definitely not a California native. East Coast, probably, maybe New England.
He stood when she entered, and she wasted no time shaking his hand. “Jem? Hi, I’m Amanda. Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“No problem.” Her handshake was firm, no-nonsense, no trace of anything apart from business. Jem had a weird moment where he wondered, insanely, whether his father had discovered his plan to become a sugar baby and sent this woman here to spy.
She bounced down into the chair kitty-corner from where he’d been sitting. “So, before we begin, I should probably explain that I’m not looking for a companion for myself.”
Some of the tension in Jem’s belly uncoiled. “Ah. That explains a lot, actually.” Then his eyes widened as he realized how that sounded. “Uh, not that—I mean—”
Amanda dimpled at him. “What, you don’t think I look like I could afford you?”
“You look like you definitely wouldn’t need to,” Jem said honestly. “But, I mean, wasn’t Steve Jobs famous for wearing the same thing every day even though he was richer than God?”
“Touché.”
“I do like the whole look, though.” He was babbling now, like that could make up for the way he’d put his foot in his mouth. “Very disarming.” The dots connected. “That’s, uh, the point, right? To be underestimated?” If she worked here, that meant she managed clients with high profiles while looking like she could be a high-school cheerleader.
“Well, that and it’s comfortable and I hate picking up the dry-cleaning.”
Jem nodded. “Traffic.”
“Traffic,” Amanda agreed. She set her tablet down on the coffee table. “Jem, I’m a busy woman, so I’m going to lay my cards on the table. This is a preliminary interview. We’re just chatting. If I think you seem like the right guy for the job, at the end of the interview, I’ll offer you an NDA. There’s a number attached for getting that far.”
Jem’s heart leapt into his throat. He was going to get paid just for making it to round two? Whoever Amanda worked for, they must be a pretty big deal. He rubbed suddenly damp palms on his pants. “That sounds fair. Do you have, like, a list of questions or responsibilities or…?”
She shook her head. “Honestly? It’s mostly a vibe check. You said on your profile you’re pansexual, which I’m assuming means you’re fine working with another man.”
“That’s right.”
“You also mentioned you’re comfortable in situations where you’re interacting with people who are wealthy, famous, or both. Can you tell me a little bit more about that? Your experiences?”
“Sure, yeah.” Could he do it without sounding bitter, was the question. “Uh, my father owns one of the top golf courses in the country.”I just didn’t know that until I was seventeen and my best friend, who turned out to be my half brother, needed a kidney.“So… I grew up surrounded by people who have money.” Andrew had always wanted Jem to tag along—vacations, golf lessons, ski trips—and Andrew’s father had never flinched. Now Jem knew why. “Elaborate Christmas parties, private schools, that sort of stuff. When I was twelve I started competing in golf tournaments, and I was always expected to attend the appropriate course functions and represent the business in a positive light.”Even if no one, including me, knew I was the owner’s kid.
Now for the uncomfortable follow-up. Amanda tilted her head. “But you don’t have access to his money anymore.”
He cleared his throat. “We had a falling out when I was seventeen. It’s complicated.”I was pissed he treated me like a charity case my whole life when it turns out I was his kid, and then he had the nerve to ask for a kidney.“I got a golf scholarship to college, came out here, did a degree in education.”
“And you teach now?”
He nodded. “Kindergarten.”
Amanda’s eyes widened, and she dimpled again. “Now that’s something I’m sure will serve you well, if we continue this. My client can be a bit of a handful.”
Seeing his opportunity to ask his own questions, Jem said, “Can you describe the sorts of situations I’d need to be prepared for? Or is that something we won’t cover until after the NDA?”
“I can give you some basics. Let’s say my client is… an attention-seeker. He’s always drawn to the shiniest object in the room, even if it isn’t him, especially if it’s no good for him. It’s destructive to him professionally as well as emotionally, but people know this about him and they’ll exploit it. So your main responsibility would be acting as a buffer to keep him away from those people.”
Jem nodded slowly. “So it’s mostly parties and so on? Public events?”
“And private ones with high-flying guest lists. The point’s not really the publicity, though—we’ll let that trickle out organically. The point is to show he’s there with someone.”
Fair enough. Jem had lived in LA for years. He could be normal about famous people. “All right. I have limited availability on school nights, though.”
She dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “We’ll work around it.” Jem would just make sure that was written into the contract. He might not have gone to business school, but he had plenty of experience reading legalese. “Have you ever been to an awards show?”
“Probably not the kind you mean,” he admitted. “I went to a few NCAA awards banquets, that kind of thing. Otherwise the closest is probably the academic achievement recognition thing we put on for the kids at school.”
“And you’re not in a relationship?”
