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JENN
It takesme less than five minutes after Austin leave to freak the hell out… And I’m still freaking a whole twenty-four hours later, over wine and cake with Millie. “Why, oh why didn’t I set him straight right there?” I wail. I take a long glug of Sauvignon Blanc—a perfect pairing with lemon chiffon cake and supremely bad life choices. “It was like I was possessed. My mind was saying a polite no, but somehow my mouth opened, and I heard myself say…‘Okay.’”
Millie looks at me, wide-eyed in admiration. “I still can’t believe you took the job.”
“He was just so hot, Mil,” I whimper pathetically. Ugh, how could I resist Austin’s handsome, earnest face? “You haven’t seen him in person—it’s wild. And he’s so sweet. He was giving me a pep talk about how great I am, and how he wants to pay me a ton of money to head the team. Plus, his forearms have these lines of muscle that look like…”
“He could just lift you right up?”
“Yes,” I mutter dreamily. I’ve never been lifted by a man in my life, aside from a failed attempt to recreateDirty Dancingin fifth grade that left me literally scarred when Patrick O’Hannigan changed his mind at the last minute and left me crashing into the monkey bars.
“But he’s not lifting you up,” Millie reminds me, clapping her hands together in delight. “Because now he’s your boss. Iknewan opportunity would come along!”
Now it’s my turn to be wide-eyed. “But it didn’t come along—not tome.” I groan in regret. Thanks, universe: Dangling the perfect job in front of me, only to yank it away. “This is my dream job, but even if he claims to want me working for him, we’re just one Google search away from him realizing I’m not the Jennifer Walker he was looking for.”
“Counterpoint,” Millie says. “Austin said he didn’t care about your qualifications, or what was on your resume… right?”
“Right.” I sigh mournfully. “He just went on about what a great fit we are, now he’s seen me in action. It was like a fire hose of validation coming right at me! How was I supposed to resist that?”
“So don’t!” Millie urges. “Take the job. He wants the plan thatyoulaid out for him. You are a marketing professional; you are Jennifer Walker.”
“I am also nothing like the woman he thinks he hired, and there’s no way anyone would ever mistake the two of us.” I remind her ruefully. “Do I look like I’m five-foot-five, with beach blonde waves and skin like a glassy lake?”
“Au contraire!” Millie beams, holding out her phone. “I think there’s no evidence that Other Jennifer even exists at all.”
“What are you talking about?”
I look in confusion at her screen.
It’s open to Other Jennifer’s Instagram page, which usually details her world travels. There are many pictures of her standing waist-deep in infinity pools, and I’ve never seen her pose in the same bikini twice.
But, today, there’s only one photo on her account. It’s a blue-gold sunset over serene water, and Jennifer isn’t even in the picture—that’s a first. I frown, confused. “She deleted her other photos?”
“She deleted all her social media,” Millie corrects me, grinning. “Read the caption.”
“Going off the grid and off the Insta grid. Cheers to chasing new adventures and my inner peace. Namaste.”
“Whoa,” I breathe, looking up. “Other Jennifer got off the Internet? But… She loves the Internet! The girl posted photos of her IV drip from the emergency room that time she got food poisoning at VibeFest. And the fact I know these totally insignificant details about a stranger’s life says an awful lot about my insignificant life,” I add.
“Focus!” Millie laughs. “Other Jennifer just did you a massive favor. Even if someone does check out your-slash-her social media, they won’t find anything.”
“Oh…” I breathe, catching on. And a traitorous spark of hope flares in my chest. “There’s nothing to say I’m not the one and only Jennifer Walker.”
“Marketing maven supreme,” Millie agrees.
I pause, biting my lip, my mind racing. “But I couldn’t… could I?”
“Why not?” Millie shrugs. “I mean, look at it this way: If you didn’t happen to know that Other Jennifer existed, would it even be a problem?”
I slowly shake my head. “The recruiter calledmeabout the job,” I start slowly.
“Asking for Jennifer Walker, who works in marketing,” Millie agrees.
“Which I do.” I add. “Then I went to the interview, where I absolutely didn’t lie, or say anything about my experience that wasn’t true.”
“And you knocked the CEO’s socks off, so much that he basically begged you to take the job, which you know you can do.” Millie finishes. “Sounds pretty straightforward to me.”
Is it? Or am I trying to justify this teeny-tiny whopper of a white lie?
