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“Oh, awesome. But what a long drive!”
“Yeah, he did it in two days though. Took him a total of seventeen hours.”
“Craziness.”
When I park beside Zander’s car at his row of townhouses, we jump out and unload the trunk and backseat. Z lives roughly a mile from where Claire and I live, which is close enough to the university but still considered off-campus housing. Music is blaring from Zander’s rental, and I wonder how long it will take before the neighbors call the police.
“Guess the roommates have arrived,” I mumble.
“Yeah and they better not have trashed the place already,” he says, knocking on the door. After a few seconds, he just tries the doorknob and finds it unlocked.
We walk inside and are greeted by his obnoxious roommates, who thankfully cut the sound on their system. They open up beers for us from a local brewery, as we celebrate the start to another year at River Valley U.
Settling in on the couch, I curl my feet up under my thighs. “You coming over tomorrow night, Z?”
“For the chick show?”
I nod. “And possibly to fix my laptop?”
“What happened now?”
“A week ago, I started having issues. It just randomly shuts off and restarts.”
“Yeah, I can look at it.”
“Thanks.”
While the guys channel surf and chat about what has happened over the summer, my mind drifts to the man from the event last night who has captured my attention. I wonder if he is part of the agency. I wonder if he already has a person he goes out with regularly. I wonder if we would be compatible.
And I don’t even know his name.
4
I manage to scrape myself off the self-pity bus in time to get ready. It is so easy to play the “why me” loop in my head. But I need a job and I need one fast. I have no time to sit and feel sorry for myself.
I take a deep breath and stare blankly at the floor-length mirror.You have exactly what the agency needs.Claire’s words, not mine. Nope, my words would be—You are in over your head, Angie, and you have not even officially been hired. I’m dressed in a plain white sundress. This is what I assume a girl next door would look like. My skin is untouched, my hair on the frizzy end of messy. But apparently, this is the golden look to land a job. Who would have thought?
I learned during my first year at college that Claire isn’t someone to piss around with. When her heart is involved, there really isn’t any human being who would be able to exercise their free will.
What in the actual hell am I doing?
I make my way down the stairs into the living room. Claire is perched on the wingback chair, looking as dapper as ever. Her spiked, candy-apple-red stilettoed feet dangle over the arm of the chair. Her dark hair looks sexy and free. The black jacket she’s paired with her tight black dress looks almost conservative.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, I had a minor moment of freak-out. But I can do this.”
Her smile is warm.
I fidget, digging my fingernails into my palms.
“Were you second-guessing it?”
For months, Claire has conveniently hidden her job under the masquerade of having a nightlife. And here I am, ready to embark into the unknown. After signing a nondisclosure agreement, of course.
“Would you expect any different from me?” I ask with a smirk.
Like an obedient child, I follow her out the door with my twill coat in hand. It is the nicest thing I own, despite being found at the Secondhand Treasure store in the city, and is perfect for this cool and dreary day. I had switched out the dull buttons for a shinier finish and stitched the few holes that poked through the inner lining with my sewing machine. But other than those minor adjustments, it looks new.
