“Busy. But you let me know if you need anything!” Sasha hurried away.
I didn’t try to call her back. I needed solitude right now. I took a sip of my drink and went back to my phone. I scrolled down page after page. My heart sank into my shoes the farther I scrolled. I’d seen every listing on this site. I already applied for most of them, even the ones I wasn’t qualified for. Some I would never qualify for. I applied for them, too, and I never heard back from any of them.
I clicked on a different site. Same thing. I hated myself at times like these. It wasn’t my fault my boss at the last accounting firm where I worked laundered money. It wasn’t my fault a hundred-people got thrown out on their asses when the firm closed down.
No one cared about my sob story. They took one look at my resume, and my application took a one-way trip to the trash can. The name J P Johnson at the top made absolutely no one want to hire me. But I had no choice but to leave it on there. It was my only experience out of college. I had no idea the boss laundered money, but everyone suspected me anyway. I was part of the firm, wasn’t I? If I didn’t know, I must be incompetent. Right?
That’s what everybody thought, anyway. What if they were right? What if I was too incompetent to work in this field? What would happen then? I was totally unemployable.
I wasn’t even thinking about jobs right then. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to notice the postings scrolling up my screen when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a new one. My eye zeroed in on it. Wife, Wanted.
Now, who in their right mind would post a job like that on a corporate employment website? It must be a joke. Just out of curiosity, I read the description. Marriage of convenience, must be college educated, attractive, with a clean record. Help a wayward billionaire reform and become a model citizen for the press.
Strange. That made no sense at all. If he was a billionaire, he should be able to get any woman he wanted. Maybe he was old and ugly. Maybe he was an alcoholic and a lecher, or maybe, I just drank too much coffee that morning. I really ought to cut down on my caffeine intake if I was starting to actually read a post like that.
I took another sip of my drink. How many times did I check these websites every day in the desperate hope of finding a job—any job? The nest egg I built up dwindled to nothing over the months of beating the streets in search of work. Now I had almost nothing left. I couldn’t even pay my basic expenses.
Well, I certainly wasn’t going to become anybody’s wife. That was for sure. He could pick up whoever else found this posting. He wasn’t looking for an accountant, anyway. I was too brainy to be any guy’s wife for hire.
Just then, my phone buzzed. A text popped up on the screen. The contact line read, Addison, my roommate. Hey, babe. Don’t forget the rent is due today. See ya when you get home.
Shit. I forgot about the rent. I was going to have to ask for an extension. Ugh, that hurt the ego.
I flicked back to the job post. Maybe, just maybe. My thumb hovered over the Apply Now button. I hesitated. Should I? What other option did I have?
A clatter of crockery from the kitchen startled me out of my thoughts. I glanced up to see Sasha come barreling around the corner. Before I could do or say anything, she sailed across the room and flung herself down on the couch next to me. She covered her face with both hands and burst into tears.
My phone fell out of my hand. I put out her arms to the girl. “Oh, my gosh, Sasha! Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Sasha sobbed into her hands. Her shoulders shook, and she sucked air through her teeth between heaves. “I...I can’t do this anymore. I wasn’t supposed to do this. I trained as an actress. I came to New York to work on Broadway, and now here I am serving coffee to a bunch of washed-up nobodies. I can’t handle this.”
I pursed my lips. Another broken heart? I could relate. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”
Sasha threw her hands in her lap. “I’m outta here. I’m going home to my family in Minnesota. I don’t need this crap anymore.”
I gasped. “You can’t just walk out on the job. What would your boss say?”
“I just told him.” Sasha waved toward the kitchen. “All he ever does is complain about how I serve the customers. Well, I don’t hear any of them complaining. He’s a prick.”
“Don’t walk out,” I told her. “A lot of people would be happy for any kind of job they could get. Can’t you just stick it out a little longer? You know what they say. Don’t quit your old job until you have the new one lined up.”
She brushed my hands away. “You want that job? You can have it. I’m sure Paulo is looking for a new waitress right now.”
In a flash, she jumped to her feet and stormed out of the cafe. The door slammed behind her. I stared at the place where Sasha used to be. Work as a waitress in a coffee shop? Serve hot drinks to a bunch of washed-up nobodies? Why the hell not? I was a washed-up nobody myself. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse unless I failed to pay the rent and wound up on the streets. I would do anything to stop that from happening.
I stuck my phone in my pocket and inched toward the kitchen. I didn’t know Paulo. I never had anything to do with anybody in this place except the wait staff. I looked around the cash register for a minute until I heard cursing coming from the direction of the dishwasher.
I almost turned tail and ran, but the sheer desperate terror of my situation drove me forward. I crept around the front counter and stuck my head into the kitchen. A sweaty guy in a wife-beater shirt sprayed clouds of mist into the dishwasher sink. He glanced up when my head appeared. “What do you want?”
“I’m looking for Paulo.”
He jerked his chin at me. “I’m Paulo. Say what you want and get out of here.”
I waved over my shoulder at the counter. “Sasha just quit. I was wondering if I could apply for the job. I’m really good with numbers, and I have references.”
He looked me up and down. “You’re the girl from JP Johnson, aren’t you?”
I stared at him in horror. “How do you know about that?”