Page 20 of Selfie

If Mom were here today, she’d tell me to trust my intuition and to never ever let a man, or anyone for that matter, tell me what I’m capable of.

“Jesse, you can fix this by leaving my sister alone. The next time you contact her, I’ll file a restraining order. Clear?”

I hang up before he can say another word.

He thinks I can’t do this on my own?

Watch me.

6

Spencer

On my first day of work, Charlie came through for me. She was up early—dressed for school, teeth and hair brushed. Opting for cereal, to save me the trouble of making breakfast, she even rinsed her bowl before putting it in the dishwasher. If she keeps up this behavior, I’ll buy her a whole freaking guinea pig farm.

Claire invited Charlie to sit at the “cool table” and get pizza for lunch. Grade-school politics haven’t changed. You still have to beinvitedto plant your ass on a particular cafeteria seat, but Charlie seems excited, so I’ll call it a win. The school serves Domino’s pizza at four dollars for a slice and a canned soda. I handed her a ten-dollar bill this morning just in case. Sweet as pie, Charlie asked me if I had enough cash left over for my lunch. I showed her my diet-friendly strawberry protein drink and told her I was all set, ignoring her look of concern.

My morning continued to sparkle from there. To my surprised delight, I have my own parking spot. There’s a row of spots right by the elevator for all the executive assistants. I’ve worked for the CEO of a billion-dollar company before, but I never got my own parking spot. It’s probably so we can be quickabout errands, but still, it feels pretty glamorous parking my company car in a dedicated spot.

Maybe Las Vegas is actually an upgrade, not just an escape.

I literally whistled a happy tune in the elevator ride from the garage to the lobby of Brickstone Property Ventures. Overcome with first day nerves, I was really expecting a disaster this morning, but it’s all smooth sailing as I enter the front lobby of the massive headquarters.

I weave through a cluster of businessmen all wearing suits and ties. I wore my most impressive black business dress with the cap sleeves, smart collar, and a gold-colored buckle in the front. There’s something about how gold shines against black, making me look far more sophisticated than I am. Hell, I actually seem to fit right in.

“Good morning,” I say as I reach the receptionist who is seated behind a large, wall-to-wall concierge desk. It looks more like a marble slab bunker than a work desk. “I’m Spencer Riley-Brenner. It’s my first day working for Mr. James Hatcher.”

She smiles and winks. “We all work for Mr. Hatcher, honey.” I’m not sure if she’s old enough to be calling me “honey.” She barely looks thirty. Do I really look like a baby to everybody except Charlie? “Are you with the sales and customer service new hire class? Because orientation is in Meeting Hall A on the second floor. Let me grab you a map of the building.” She swivels around in her chair, rummaging through pamphlets.

“I’m not in sales or service. I’m Mr. Hatcher’s new executive assistant.”

She spins back around, slowly. Her face is wrinkled with suspicion. “Who told you that? Because Dawn Pryce is Mr. Hatcher’s assistant and has been for the past fifteen years.”

Bile bubbles up in the back of my throat as I take in her perplexed look. We are in the midst of a huge misunderstanding, and I pray I’m not the one who’s confused. I already got thecompany car and apartment, but I don’t get my salary advance until thirty days into employment. If I don’t have a job, I am so screwed. I emptied what was left of my checking account and put all the moving expenses and groceries on a credit card until I got paid. This entire move was a major, desperate leap of faith.

“The recruiter told me I needed to report to Mr. Hatcher at eight o’clock in the morning today. I already filled out all my employment paperwork online. I don’t understand.”

“One moment please.” The receptionist flashes me an overly compensating smile before zeroing in on her computer. She types furiously, and after multiple rounds of pings that must be intercompany instant messages, she finally meets my gaze again. Except now her expression has gone from confused to worried.

“Everything okay?”

“Well, I figured out the problem. Rest assured, youdohave a job here, and Dawn is on her way down now to take you to the other Mr. Hatcher.”

“The other Mr. Hatcher?” I parrot back as if the words didn’t quite permeate.

“Mr. James Hatcher’s son, Nathan. James is the managing partner of Brickstone Ventures, which is a major property investment firm for a variety of industries. Nathan is in charge of commercial real estate investments, most of which are here in Vegas.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine. I’ll work for whoever. I’m just relieved I have a job.”

She grimaces as she shrugs. “That’s one way to look at it.”

I mean to ask for clarification because I don’t like the way she’s blinking at me, like I’m a mouse about to crawl into a cougar’s mouth, but the sound of stilettos hitting the marble floor pulls my attention from her. A beautiful, middle-aged woman with a bright red bob approaches me in a direct path, like a rook on a chessboard. Our outfits are almost matching.Her dress is navy, mine is black, but they have a similar style. Although, judging by the red soles of her heels, noticeable every time she takes a step, I’m convinced her business dress is designer, whereas mine is most definitely from Nordstrom Rack.

“You’re Spencer?” the woman asks as she nears me.

“Yes, ma’am.” I hold my hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

“Dawn.” She shakes my hand firmly before releasing it. “Good grief, little girl. Who the hell did you piss off to end up with this job?”

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