Weekend Wife (Sassy in the City 1)

He nodded. “It’s in the contract. You need a wardrobe for the weekend.”

“I’m not really a girl who reads things like contracts. I just prefer to roll with it.” I’d always been like that and I didn’t see it changing anytime soon.

Grant winced and rubbed his chest in exaggeration. “That hurts my heart,” he said. “You need to read legal documents, Leah, seriously.”

I shrugged. “Sure. I can go shopping this Saturday, though we’ll need to keep it on the down low or Lou, my manager, will kill me for doing that instead of working since you told him I need the rest of the week off.” Lou was also going to kill me for needing the next Saturday off but I would cross that bridge on my next shift.

“Wear what you would normally wear so I can see the real you. As opposed to fifties waitress or a mermaid.”

“I can do that. Be normal. Or at least not a mermaid.”

“Why don’t we meet at my office and go from there?”

I was a

llergic to the idea of office buildings but I was ridiculously curious to see where Grant worked every day. “Sounds good. Oh, and I decided what I want my fake occupation to be. Professional sleeper.”

Grant gave a soft laugh. “That’s not a job.”

“It is. You test beds in hotels. I figure it’s something I know, right? It’s not like I can pretend to be a neurosurgeon or a French tutor. I know how to sleep.”

He rubbed his beard and shook his head. “I don’t think so, Leah. Pick something else.”

“I’m forbidden to be a pro sleeper? That’s a little harsh. Fine, what do you want me to be?”

“Something that doesn’t involve a bed.”

“So sex toy tester is out?” I winked at him.

Grant’s nostrils flared. “You’re a very dangerous woman. Why can’t you be a waitress? We met exactly the way we really did.”

“Boo. That’s so boring. But fine. I’ll be a waitress. A dangerous waitress.” I blew him a kiss. “Goodnight, Grant.”

“Goodnight, Leah.” There was a pause, where I thought he was going to say something else, but he didn’t.

The screen went blank as he ended the call.

I took another sip from my wine and started answering Grant’s questionnaire. I got through ten questions when I came to “What is your greatest fear?”

It made my stomach clench. I couldn’t tell Grant my greatest fear was failure. That I was terrified that in ten years I’d be almost forty and still living in this apartment and never finding success as an actress. That by that point I would have aged out of even working at the diner because they wanted young and perky singers and women have an insanely early expiration date in any entertainment.

I guess I could always apply to be a professional sleeper at that point.

I typed into the document a flippant answer.

Swallowing a roach in my drink at a restaurant.

That was a very real fear as well.

Chapter 6

I was opening up blueprints for a condo building we had going up on E. 63rd when my administrative assistant knocked on the door and said, “Mr. Caldwell, may I come in?”

“Yes.” I looked up from my computer toward the door.

Cece opened the door and crossed my office. She had been working for me for about a year, and once she had realized I had no intention of making her my Mrs. Caldwell, she had stopped flirting with me and started working. She had a boyfriend now who was a personal trainer and we had developed a really excellent work rapport. “What’s up?” I asked her.

I always worked on Saturdays but Cece only did once a month in exchange for having a Monday off with her boyfriend.