Friday. Or else.
That’s when the tears really start. I press my face into my hoodie sleeve and sob, shoulders shaking, hot and silent and ugly. I’m so tired. I’m so goddamn tired.
When I finally lift my head, I’m blinking through the blur when I see it: a job listing I haven’t seen before.
Vasiliev Holdings LLC—Personal Assistant to CEO (Confidential)
The description is almost comically vague:
“Discreet, resourceful, flexible. Must handle sensitive information. High-level scheduling, travel arrangements,research, occasional personal errands. Excellent compensation, room for growth. Immediate start.”
There’s a link to a company site, just a glossy page with a Midtown address, no photos, no team bios. The only thing that matters is the salary:Fat five figures. Plus benefits.
I laugh. It’s a bitter sound, watery and desperate.Sure,I think, it has to be a joke. No one’s paying that much for an assistant.
But I keep reading. They want someone who can “think independently, creative decisions, etc.”
I scroll down.Bachelor’s degree required. Experience in a corporate environment preferred. Excellent verbal and written communication skills essential.
I shake my head, already feeling myself back away. I’m overqualified in all the wrong ways. I haven’t had a real office job in two years. My best reference is a guy who pays me to fake orgasms over a mic. And I know my luck—applications like this are black holes. I’ll never hear back.
Still, I open my résumé. I clean up the wording, adjust the dates, and fluff the old admin job at my aunt’s dental practice until it sounds important. I copy the job description into my cover letter, try to make myself sound invisible and indispensable at the same time.
Then, on a whim, I scroll through my audio files. I find my last recording—a sultry, confident voice purring out forbidden fantasies, every word dripping with control and certainty. It doesn’t even sound like me. That woman doesn’t cry in the dark or eat shitty, cheap noodles for dinner.
I play it again, just to hear what confidence sounds like.
By the time it ends, my hands aren’t shaking anymore. I fill out the application, paste in my résumé, attach my cover letter, and—without really thinking—drag the file into the upload box.
I hit send.
The confirmation screen pops up:Thank you for your application. We will contact you if you are selected for an interview.
I stare at the screen, cold dread rising as I realize what I’ve done. The silence in my apartment is so thick I can hear my own heart thudding in my chest.
But there’s nothing I can do now. The application is gone.
I shut the laptop, crawl under my threadbare blanket, and let myself hope—just for a second—that maybe, just maybe, luck might finally be on my side.
And they never look at my application.
3
ALEKSEI
If I haveto look at one more cheery résumé with a pink border, I might actually fire someone just for existing.
Yuri, my head of IT, stands behind my desk, tapping away on his tablet. He’s twenty-eight, likes loud sneakers, and has the relentless optimism of someone who’s never had to bury a body.
“See here, boss?” he says, gesturing at the screen like he’s unveiling state secrets. “We set up custom filters—work history, criminal record, language skills, even LinkedIn photo rating. You can swipe left or right, almost like Tinder, but for—well, an assistant.”
I grunt. This is too tedious. I should have automated the entire process, but I need to judge the person who’s going to do the sorting for me. I’m looking for two things here: she needs to be smart, and she needs to be efficient. The only reason I’m looking for a woman is that while she’s making the decisions that are going to change my life, I don’t want them thinking with their dick.
“There’s even an option for voice samples,” Yuri keeps talking, “If you want to check how they sound. Some people say that’s important for client-facing work?—”
I raise a hand, cutting him off. “Just show me how to use it. I’ll handle the rest.”
He looks at me, one eyebrow up. “You sure? I mean, you’re not exactly famous for your patience with… admin things.”
