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There was a long pause, longer than the one Kris had taken to answer, before Nate replied.
Nate: “Starring” might be an overstatement, but I’ll take it. Meet me at Marina del Rey, 7pm?
Kris: Sounds good.
She stared at the screen for a while longer before pocketing her phone. Her stomach was all twisted up in knots. If she didn’t know better, she’d say she was nervous.
It’s not a date. It’s a celebratory dinner.
“Kris!” Bobbi’s voice cut across the office and scratched against the walls like nails on chalkboard. “Are you finished with the filing? I want to see all press mentions of Riley K. in the past twenty-four hours. ASAP.”
Shit.Kris had forgotten about the press clippings.
“Almost done!” She injected her voice with enough sugar to give everyone in a fifty-foot radius cavities. Kris picked out the Riley K. articles and scanned them first, cursing Bobbi, her father, and Gloria under her breath.
She should’ve chosen a more exciting summer job—like scraping gum off the sidewalk. At least then, she could’ve worked on her tan.
Kris glanced at the clock. An hour and a half until the end of the workday. A lot of other assistants stayed late, but she wasn’t trying to climb up the company ranks or impress Bobbi. She had zero compunction about leaving at five p.m. sharp.
It was bullshit anyway, this whole “stay after hours to prove your commitment” work ethic. If management wanted people to stay later, they should adjust salaries and working hours accordingly. Don’t even get Kris started on the free internships, though thankfully, she’d never had to take one. Like hello, people should be paid for their work? Not to mention, they had lives outside of the office.
If anyone tried to shaft her out of her dues, she’d shove a Jimmy Choo up their stingy ass.
Kris fed the last article into the scanner.
Ninety minutes.
The only thing that got her through the rest of the day was the prospect of dinner with Nate.
