Maeve:Probably makes him good in bed.
Tess:Yes, because sex makes a volatile situation way better.
Maeve:It makes it more pleasurable.
Maeve:You need to get something out of this shit show.
Maeve:You know he’s going to fire you as soon as he adopts and the grandmother is out of the picture.
Holly:Yeah, you need to have the full billionaire experience.
Tess:Don’t worry. I plan to!
Holly:OMG! Go girl! I put condoms in your bag. *raised hands emoji*
Tess:No, not like that! No sex!
Maeve:You don’t want to use that big thing he has in his pants?
Tess:I’m using the other big thing!
I slapped the heavy black credit card Beck had given me onto the side table next to my fainting couch and opened my laptop, propping it up on my chest as I reclined on my couch.
If a firing was incoming in the next few weeks, then I was making the most of this. Screw Beck. Screw jobs. He wanted the girls to bake? Fine. I just ordered a whole set of specialty shaped princess baking pans and unicorn sprinkles. He just wants me to be the assistant? Well, this assistant needs enough tapas to feed forty people delivered to her door, complete with alcohol.
“And you know what?” I said, walking to answer the front door when the doorbell buzzed. “This is totally fine. Actually, I’m glad Beck was a dick today because it is raining outside, and who wants be in the rain when you could be at home and have food magically appear at your door?”
“You having a party?” the deliveryman asked, handing me the four huge bags of food and two bottles of wine.
“Yes,” I lied. “Yes, there are three—no, ten people here,” I said to his disbelieving look. “Ten of us will be eating all of this food.”
I shut the door in his face. “Yeesh, judge much? A girl can’t use her boss’s credit card to stuff herself like a starving person about to be dumped into the wilderness?”
Enola and Annie were blaring music when I knocked on Enola’s door. They didn’t want any food when I asked, and I decided to just leave them alone.
“It’s on the counter,” I said loudly through the door.
I took my food and lay back on my fainting couch, sipping my drink and eating tapas while I online shopped. The girls did need toys, especially if Beck was going to have us all cooped up in his condo.
I poured myself more wine and fished a piece of calamari out of the little paper take-out container.
“Umm, yes,” I said, toasting the laptop and spilling a little wine on myself. “They absolutely need this vintage nineties Polly Pocket.”
I loved Polly Pocket. I’d had a whole collection that my stepsister had co-opted when she and my stepdad moved in. My mom had been all like, “You need to share!” and that had turned into my stepsister taking my stuff. She also took my Littlest Pet Shop toy collection, which the girls also totally needed. I bought the hamsters, the one with the dogs, the gray cat with the pink carrier, the rabbit in its little basket, and also the pony because ponies were rad.
I poured myself another glass of wine and ate the last of the fried eggplant, then I navigated to the American Girl doll website.
“What?” I slurred, gesturing wildly with a forkful of ceviche. “What do you mean I can’t buy the full-accessory collection for Samantha! She needs her winter outfit! She needs her cute 1900s desk. By god, she needs her steamer trunk!”
I sprawled dramatically on my fainting couch.
“Why does American Girl not understand? Those of us who have lusted after these toys as children finally have the money or, in my case, finally have a boss with the money to buy them.”
I poured out the last few tablespoons of wine, finished it off, and held up the empty bottle blearily. Outside, it was almost dark, and the rain pattered against the window. I stared up at the sparkling chandelier in my bedroom.
“Maybe I went a little overboard on the light fixtures.” I closed my eyes, and I felt around on the ground for more food. But there was nothing but empty containers.
“Shit,” I muttered. “I should have ordered dessert. I think there’s some leftover Milky Way cupcakes.”
