“How come you didn’t call?” It’s the most urgent thing on my mind and requires an immediate answer.
She gives me a light shrug. “I don’t have your number.”
“But I gave you my card.”
“Yeah, um… I don’t have it.” She gives me a small smile. I think it’s supposed to be apologetic, but it doesn’t feel sincere. If this were an audition, she wouldn’t be getting a callback.
“Did you lose it?” I should’ve gotten her number, instead of letting her rush off to catch her flight. It’s just that it never occurred to me. Women have never, ever lost my number. I suppose there’s a first time for everything, though. Now my I-lost-your-card cherry’s been popped.
Then something else occurs to me: even though she lost my number, we got to meet anyway. It’s like fate, which is kind of cool.
“No.” She clears her throat. “The fact is, I threw it away.”
My happy illusion shatters like a broken mirror.
Benedict starts coughing, then pounds his chest until the fit passes.
I start to open my mouth to respond, then stop. There’s no way I heard Yuna right. “You did, um…what?”
“I threw it away at the airport.”
I wiggle a finger in my ear. “Sorry, it sounded like you said you”—I laugh—“threw it away.”
She nods. “Before boarding my flight.”
The words are difficult to process. “And why would you do that? Did you get it confused with a used tissue, or…? Maybe a gum wrapper…?” Although my card is made with stiff paper. Nothing like a gum wrapper. But she might’ve lost the feeling in her fingers after playing Schubert with such vigor. I’m sure it happens.
“Well.” She pulls her lips in for a moment. “I figured that’d be the wise thing to do.”
“So keeping my card, maybe going on a date…that would’ve been unwise?”
“Something like that.”
“But showing up here is wise,” I say slowly to make sure I understand her non-logic.
“Yes.”
“Because even though you claim you don’t want anything to do with me—like calling me—you want my money.” I give Benedict a look. See? The Loch Ness Monster isn’t real.
“Not for free,” Yuna says. “I’ll be working. ‘Just compensation for my labor.’ If you want something that sounds more lawyer-like, I’m sure I can—”
“I don’t think a lawyer is going to help.” I’m still stuck on the fact that she threw away my card. My own fucking phone number!
What’s wrong with a date? I make a far better date than a boss, especially if the woman is intriguing. And Yuna is intriguing. And infuriating. The combination’s something I’ve never seen in a woman. I should hate it, but no. I like it even more. Like dessert that isn’t just sweet, but sweet and tart. And juicy.
“If this is too awkward, that’s okay,” Yuna says in a neutral tone. “I can go to another interview.”
“How many have you lined up?” I ask, then shake my head. “Actually, how many have you had already?”
“This is my first, but I’m sure I can line up a few more. My friends are helping me,” she says.
“Your friends. Like Kim, who works for Salazar Pryce?” The woman Benedict spoke of with respect. I’ll bet Kim has lots of people in her figurative rolodex.
“Yes. You’ve heard of her.” Yuna beams, happy I know who one of her friends is. But then, the only thing terrible in the world is anonymity. “One way or the other, I’m getting a job in the next couple of weeks.”
It annoys the hell out of me that she isn’t begging me to hire her or give her a chance. It’s obvious that being my assistant isn’t her number one dream job. Okay, so it’s only for eight weeks, but she’d get to see me every day. Call me every day. Even come over to my house.