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“I don’t like to say it, but you are such a ho, Harriet,” Polly said, shaking her head as I started cutting up the boiled eggs. There was laughter in her tone and I couldn’t believe she was being so obnoxious with me.
“What?” I said, glaring at her.
“You gave that man a blow job?”
“Because he went down on me.”
Chelsea started giggling. “Oh my God, I need to find me a hot billionaire that’s going to go down on me in his office. That sounds like a freaking awesome movie.”
“But it’s not a movie. It’s my real life,” I said. “And while I don’t consider myself a ho, I am starting to wonder if I’m a little bit crazy for hooking up with my new boss. Am I blurring the lines too quickly?”
“Yes,” Polly said, nodding, and Chelsea grinned.
“I would say yes as well, but let’s be realistic. It’s not like this is the job of your dreams. You are going to be an artist, and when you get your fellowship and you finally make it, you’re not going to care about this job.”
“But she didn’t get the fellowship yet. She hasn’t made it as an artist. She has nowhere to live. She has no money, and this is a really good paying job, which I’m really shocked that she got in the first place.”
“I am starting to think that he did want to bang her,” Chelsea said. “He probably thought to himself,Hey, I can get a mediocre housekeeper if she’s as hot as Harriet.”
“Thank you very much,” I said.
“What? I called you hot.”
“You also called me a mediocre housekeeper.”
Polly just stared at me. “Girlfriend, let’s be real. You’re a shitty housekeeper.”
“No, I’m not. I’m—”
“You’re a shitty cook. You don’t clean. Mom and Dad can attest to that. If I told Finn how many times you got in trouble for not cleaning your room or not doing the dishes well or—”
I glared at her. “You’re not going to say a word to him.”
“Okay,” she said. “But aren’t his guests arriving in an hour?”
“Yeah, and?”
“Nothing’s ready.”
“Well, Chelsea’s making her famous mashed potatoes. I asked you to do the rack of lamb.”
“You told me to put oil, salt, and pepper on it, and I did.”
“Okay, well then put it in the oven.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “What are you doing?”
“I’m making the deviled eggs and the candied bacon.”
“Candied bacon?”
“Yeah. To put on the deviled eggs. I’m just going to fry up this bacon and soak it in maple syrup.”
“That sounds disgusting,” she said.
“I’ve had candied bacon before. Remember that place we went to and it was called millionaires bacon because it’s the sort of thing millionaires eat? I’m kicking it up a notch, and it’s for billionaires.” Chelsea and Polly exchanged glances. “What?”
“Nothing,” Polly said. “Please don’t go giving these people food poisoning. I don’t want to get sued.”
