She gives me the saddest look and then hugs me. As soon as she lets me go, I drop my purse on her barstool and collapse into the beanbag that’s shaped like an avocado, pit included. It’s eccentric. But so is Riley.
Riley plops beside me on a tomato bean bag with her laptop, giving me a smile. “Let’s get you a new job,” she says, shifting her attention to the computer.
I watch the screen as Riley flicks between job boards and a copy of my resume. She goes into overdrive, and I know it’s best to just go along for the ride. Meanwhile, I’m half-asleep in the avocado, letting her create my fate, when my phone vibrates.
It’s a number I don’t recognize, but the area code is familiar.
I stare at it, thinking a million things at once.
“Answer it,” Riley says to me, confused by my hesitation.
I give her a dirty look and then do as she says. “Hello?”
“Maddy,” Wes’s voice comes through the phone. “It’s me. I’m using Jared’s phone. Mine died. Can we just?—”
“Nope.” I hang up and immediately block the number. “I swear to god, why are men always so desperate once they fuck it up?”
Riley pauses, looking up from the screen. “Wes? Or the hot hookup guy?”
I frown. “Hot hookup guy doesn’t have my number.”
“What a shame,” she giggles, and then turns her computer to face me. “I’ve already compiled a list of potential jobs.”
I narrow my gaze, reading the first line. “Executive assistant forModern Edge Development.That sounds like something I’m not qualified to do.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s a glorified secretary. You’remorethan qualified, and also, it’s the highest-paying job on the list. I think it should be a high priority. I’m applying for you right now. It says they have a quick response rate.”
I shrug. “Whatever it takes to not have to sell my body on the corner.”
Riley pats my leg. “Good girl.”
And my mind goesrightback to Beck.
Damn. Maybe Ishould’ve left my number.
“Hey!” Riley perks up a few moments later. “You already have a response.”
“Probably an automatic rejection,” I snort, shaking my head.
My best friend kicks me and then spins the laptop. “Nope. It’s aninvitation to interview.”
Chapter 5
Adrian
Another dud. They keep sending me fucking duds.
I pace the length of my office, which is roughly the size of my first apartment. Some people are comforted by coziness, but I require space. My windows stretch floor-to-ceiling, overlooking the city in its late afternoon light. My Italian leather loafers make almost no sound on the polished concrete. The furniture is minimalist and excruciatingly uncomfortable.
Exactly how I like it.
It means people come here and then get the fuck out.
My eyes jump to a thin red folder sitting dead center on my desk, full of applications and resumes. Marissa left it before slithering out.
I’m tempted to pick it up and see who’s next, but I stop myself.
The last three interviews have been useless. I told Beck as much, but he’s on a fair-hiring crusade and insists that every candidate gets a fair shot. It’s the most ridiculous strategy I’ve ever heard, and considering the last candidate didn’t even know how to operate Microsoft Office, I don’t think this approach is working.
