Page 20 of The Crush Next Door

"Um, okay. Don't we all do that?"

She nodded, her face solemn. "And well, I kind of fudged about my current job title," she admitted in a low voice.

"Oh. Huh. Okay." That didn't sound that bad.

"And because of that, I was kind of hoping that you could maybe help out your best friend in the whole world who has always been there for you and maybe pretend to be—" She gave a quick glance around. "—Allison."

I gasped. "Are you insane? Pretend to be Allison?"

"Shhh. Not so loud."

I put my drink down, my heart not able to handle the caffeine in addition to the adrenaline shooting through my body because, deep down, I already knew that I would help. I would do anything for this girl that had stood by my side since sixth grade when we had first met.

"And how..." I tried to catch my breath. "How exactly am I supposed to pretend to be our office manager?"

She cringed when I hissed the last two words. "I have it all planned out?"

The way she said it as a question almost made me smile. But instead, I sighed, resigned to whatever it was she had planned. "What do I have to do exactly?"

And that was how I found myself sneaking into Allison's office while she was out for the morning at some Continuing Ed class on the UCLA campus.

I was going to fucking die of a heart attack at the age of twenty-six. And if I didn't die, I was going to kill my best friend, who was lurking outside the door, acting as a lookout. Anaya's prospective employer had asked her when would be a good time to catch Allison at her desk, and she had told them right before lunch would be perfect.

All morning, between patients, we had gone over what to say, covered it from every possible angle we could think of, and discussed how I was going to tell them that Anaya had filled in as office manager during my recent, um, months-long maternity leave, doing such a spectacular job that I almost didn't have any work to come back to when I finally returned.

Sitting there waiting for the phone to ring, my heart pounded in time with the clock ticking on the wall.

Please don't let Allison get back early. Please.

At precisely quarter till noon, the private line on Allison's phone rang, and despite the panic flooding my veins, I took a deep breath and answered.

I put on my best professional voice and pretended my heart out, acting like I knew what the hell I was talking about, trying to prop up Anaya without going overboard and making it too obvious. The whole time I was speaking, though, I kept imagining Allison busting in, figuring out what I was doing, and firing me on the spot.

And then I'd lose this job that paid me so incredibly well and gave me such great benefits. And then I wouldn't be able to find another job because this one had ended with such a spectacular explosion of me impersonating my boss. And then I wouldn't be able to pay rent. And then I'd have to go live with my mom.

Oh, God. Nausea threatened to overwhelm me as we continued to speak. I talked up my friend, referring to my cheat sheet about job specifics. How did Anaya know all this stuff? Thank goodness she did or I would have been lost. To be honest, she reallydidqualify for this job.

But one thing I'd discovered about employers, theyalwayswanted to go the safe route.

As Anaya had said earlier, "Everyone wants experience, experience, experience. Yet no employer ever wants to take a chance on you. So how the hell are you supposed to get experience when no one will let you have experience?"

She was abso-fucking-lutely right. The whole career ladder was so screwed up, in more ways than one.

Thank God the phone call ended up being relatively short. And thank God Allison didn't burst into her office. Instead, after hanging up the phone, I burst out the door, making a shocked Anaya jump while she clutched at her chest.

"Success!" I whisper-shouted.

Her eyes went wide as I approached. "Really?" she whispered.

I nodded. "Come on. I'll tell you all about it at lunch. You're buying."

"Yes, anything you want. Anything."

"Anything?"

Our office was located in Beverly Hills, so I wasn't so sure she'd thought that through completely. In the end, though, I chose our favorite deli, Nate 'n Al's, because I needed some comfort food after the morning we'd had. But I'd make her buy me a dozen of my favorite black and white cookies to make up for it all.

Soon, we were seated in a comfy booth, surrounded by the delicious aroma of their food and the quiet background noise of people chatting, mostly old-timers who came here every day for lunch.

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