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“What are you, like his executive assistant or something?”
“Whose executive assistant?” He looked at me and then back at Gladys. “Gladys, what’s going on here? Who did you tell her this position was for?”
“I didn’t tell her, sir. You told me not to tell anyone in case gold diggers tried to find out.”
“I’m not a gold digger,” I said. “I am a very educated, very intelligent, brilliant woman. And the only reason I’m taking this job is because you got me fired from my last job and—”
“Okay, and you have the requisite skills?” he said.
“Yes, I do. You can ask Gladys.”
He looked back at Gladys. “What were her qualifications?”
“She trained under a Michelin-star chef. She knows Gordon Ramsay. I guess she cooked for him, sir.”
I pressed my lips together. Oh Lord. Gladys was getting it all wrong.
“She went to a culinary institute in Paris and I want to say in England, and she’s half-British and half-American.” Gladys rubbed her forehead. “I think that’s about it.”
He looked at me. “You’re a Michelin-star chef, are you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Yet you didn’t know how to make a cup of coffee.”
“It’s not that I didn’t know how to make a cup of coffee. It was because you were being obnoxious, and—”
“And so you dumped tap water into my cup.”
“It wasn’t tap water. It was a Nespresso.”
“A Nespresso?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve had a Nespresso, and that didn’t taste like Nespresso.”
“Fine. It wasn’t Nespresso. It was Keurig.”
“Okay, so tap water.”
“No, Keurig isn’t that bad.”
“It’s not exactly something that a connoisseur of coffee would drink.”
“Let me just say one thing, Mr. Gets On My Last Nerves. You are so obnoxious.” I couldn’t believe that I’d just said that out-loud. I must have had a death wish.
“I know you’re not speaking to me like that when I’m the one who decides whether or not you get the job.”
“Look, can you tell me who the job’s for? Like, is George Clooney your boss or…?”
“What are you talking about? What does George Clooney have to do with anything, and why do you keep talking about my boss? Gladys, what is going on?”
“I don’t know, sir. That’s why I was telling her to leave. I think she’s mentally imbalanced, like maybe she escaped from the mental institute recently.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
The man smirked. “That doesn’t surprise me that she feels that way about you, Harriet.”
“You remember my name?” I said, staring at him in surprise.
“Yes. How could I forget the name of the barista that served me the worst cup of coffee I’d ever had in my life?”
