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I fold my hands in my lap. “As of today, no.”
He straightens. “You quit?”
“Fired, actually. That’s why I’m here.”
The lines around his eyes deepen as he squints at me. “What is it you want me to know, Khloe?”
“First, I’d like you to know I had nothing to do with the exposé on Will. I had only just started at the magazine and had no idea they were doing a story on him.”
“Never thought you were involved, child,” he says quickly, and my shoulders relax slightly.
I lean forward and put my hands on my knees. “I was asked to do a follow-up today because I had connections.”
He nods slowly and takes another swig. “And you were fired because you refused?”
“That’s right.” Yeah, the man is still sharp. “But I wanted to warn you and Will. I might have said no, but the next reporter won’t.”
“I appreciate you coming to tell me this.” He sets his glass down, and his curled fingers adjust the gray cardigan around his shoulders. His eyes shut, and at first I think he’s deep in thought, but he goes quiet for so long, I fear he’s fallen asleep.
I’m about to rise and tiptoe to the door so I don’t disturb him when his lids open and his blue eyes pin me in place.
“Do you have work lined up?” he asks.
“No, it just happened, but I’m about to start pounding the pavement.”
“I have a job for you.”
I shake my head fast. “While I appreciate your kindness, I—”
“As stubborn as your father.” His chuckle is deep and raspy. “But you see, Khloe, you’d be doing me a favor.”
“What kind of favor?” I ask, settling back in my seat.
“Will needs an assistant for his upcoming trip to Saint Thomas.”
Oh God, a trip to Saint Thomas sounds heavenly right now. A Caribbean beach, sand, water... But I suppose if I’m in some boardroom taking notes for Will Carson, I’ll see none of the island. Still, getting out of New York for a while does sound nice.
“It’s a temporary job, until you find something in your field, of course.”
I consider my meager savings. I’m adamant about making my own way in life, but a paying job until I can find something else, well, that would cover next week’s rent and put food in my belly—once it stops churning. Plus, James did say I’d be helping him out.
“What would I have to do?” I ask.
“You can write, can’t you?”
“Of course.”
“I must warn you. He’s not always an easy man to work for.”
“I’ve dealt with worse, I’m sure.”
James chuckles. “I’m sure you have. Will, however, is very regimented and has high expectations of those who work for him.”
“I have high expectations of myself,” I assure him. After Steph telling me Will was pretty much an ogre, I’m not sure why I’m working so hard to sell myself. Oh, right... I like having a roof over my head.
“He also has a strict dress code.”
“A dress code? Really?” From what I know about software developers, they go to work in jeans and wear T-shirts with sayings like Cereal Killer or I Paused My Game to Be Here. Then again, people think all reporters are heartless sharks. I’m not heartless, and for all I know Will is a suit-and-tie kind of guy, like James used to be. But a dress code means I’d need to go shopping. I consider my budget and there is very little room for new clothes. Maybe I won’t be able to take this job after all.
