A/N: I kinda completely forgot I hadn't posted this. Oops? Better late than never, right? 

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Idiot For Hire 

Chapter 4: Assistant For Hire 

“Why are you the best person for this job?” I asked, trying not to sound too bored. I had four more interviews today, and so far, all of them had failed to keep my interest for more than two minutes. Most of them gave a mix of good and bad answers to my questions, but it wasn’t enough for me to want to hire any of them. The only one who had the right to be a horrible match was Nathan Byers, and I hadn’t even interviewed him yet. The rest were supposed matches sent by the Los Angeles staffing company I always used. Apparently, there was a dearth of assistants this month because Winnie sucked, too.

Still, this was my last shot, and I knew I had to play nice, even if it was a huge deviation from my normal conduct. If this situation was going to remain under my control, I needed to have a huge attitude check, and fast. So far, it was working. At least, I thought it was, but I still needed something to work with.

“Why am I the best person for this job? I know all about you,” the girl answered in an intense, wheezy voice. “I’m your biggest fan.” She laughed breathily, and the sound made me jump in my chair.

I looked down at my paper subtly, having already forgotten her name. Beatrice. How awful and fitting. “Thank you, Beatrice,” I managed, forcing a smile.

I was about to ask another question, but she cut me off. “Your favorite color is neon pink. Your favorite food is salmon. Your favorite singer is Carrie Underwood. You’re dating Mitchell Evans, Mitch for short. Your type is tall, blond, and handsome. Your best friend is Caroline Whitney.” Wrong. Trish Valentine was my best friend, although no one outside of our household was aware of this. My mother didn’t think she was an acceptable best friend, so Caroline was my “best friend” under the public eye. Some best friend. “You have trouble finding personal assistants because they don’t understand you. But I do. I understand you.”

I had a feeling I was going to encounter at least one weirdo... This chick was nuts.

“Er… okay. Describe a tough situation at work and how you handled it.”

She was silent for a moment before answering in that same terrifying voice. “When I was Kara Smithson’s personal assistant, this… guy tried getting close to her, but I knew he was no good for her,” she said, practically spitting out the word. “I protected her like a friend would and drove him away. She was heartbroken, but it was for her own good. I did it for her. She was my best friend…”

Her answers were definitely getting my attention, but not in a good way. I was starting to wonder if I needed to hire a 24-hour bodyguard instead of an assistant. “I see. What made you leave that job?”

“I was fired. I did the same thing with three other guys, and she didn’t see how it was all for her. She didn’t understand. I was just trying to do what was right…”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure how to reply to that. “What can you contribute as my personal assistant?” 

“Love and friendship,” Beatrice proclaimed, staring me down with wide eyes. “Love. And. Friendship.”

Well. That was enough of that. I was honestly starting to fear for my life; it didn’t take a genius to realize there was something intrinsically wrong with this girl. Forcing another smile, I said, “Okay. Well, thank you for your time. I’ll call you within a week to let you know if you’ve been hired or not.”

“You won’t regret hiring me,” she assured me, scooting her chair closer.

I subtly tilted my chair away from her. “I haven’t made my decision yet. I’ll let you know, okay? Please send the next person in.”

“But why would you need anyone after me?” Beatrice asked, and she seemed genuinely perplexed.

I wasn’t sure how she thought I was going to hire her after those answers, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to tell her she belonged in a psychiatric ward. She seemed like the kind of girl who would cut my skin off and wear it as a Halloween costume if I did.

“I need to give everyone a fair shot before I make my decision,” I answered carefully. “This is how the process works. It’s standard stuff. I’ll walk you out, okay?” I had a feeling if I didn’t, she’d never leave.

This seemed to work for her; she readily agreed and followed me out. Beatrice smiled widely at me as she walked into the sitting room, and I somehow managed to smile instead of cringe. I looked down at the list of names on my cell phone, impatient to move on. “Abigail Matthews?”

“That’s me,” a woman said, rising from her seat. She was dressed conservatively but fashionably, and I mentally noted the points she got for that. She was spot on with all of the trends, as far as I could see. Impressive.

Looking around, I noticed a certain someone wasn’t there yet, and I wasn’t sure if I should be happy or upset. On the one hand, I wouldn’t have to go through the motions with someone I had no intention of hiring. On the other hand, his absence would mean he was blowing me off, and his interview was the one I’d kinda-sorta-maybe been looking forward to.

What? He was hot.

I shook my head, pushing those thoughts aside. “Follow me,” I said, walking back into my dad’s study and sitting down in his big, comfy chair. Abigail took her seat in front of me and crossed her legs.

“What made you want to apply for this job?”

“This is what I was born for. Planning events, managing things—it’s my niche. I’m very organized, and I love keeping track of everything down to the dot. I’ve assisted two actresses and a model in the past, and all three were amazing experiences that taught me so much about this job.”

“What made you leave those jobs?”

“The girls traveled a lot, and while I didn’t mind the traveling back and forth, they eventually wanted to relocate to a different city, and I wanted to stay here in Los Angeles,” she explained.

I nodded. “I completely understand. Describe a tough situation at work and how you handled it.”

“The model I worked for was hosting a party, and everything went wrong the day of the party. Caterers messed up our order, the placed we’d rented out was flooded, the DJ showed up completely drunk two hours before the part, and a girl showed up wearing the same dress as Cassidy.”

“Oh, my God,” I said.

“I know,” Abigail said, shaking her head. “I had to drive over to the catering agency to make sure they fixed our order, find another reputable, competent DJ that wouldn’t show up stoned or drunk, send the other one home with one of Cassidy’s drivers, rent out another place at the very last minute, and make sure everything was sent over to the new address. I had a backup dress for Cassidy that she’d already approved, so at least that was an easy fix. Plus, the girl wearing the dress showed up before Cassidy made her entrance.”

Holy shit. She was like Super Assistant. Mousy would’ve had an emotional meltdown if that had ever happened to her. “Damn. Nicely handled,” I commented, typing a few notes into my cell phone. I actually had nothing bad to say about Abigail so far, which was surprising. All I had written down was, Dressed appropriately and fashionably, is a freaking beast under pressure, has a good record, is organized.

The rest of the answers that followed were just as overwhelmingly impressive. The choice was more than clear, but I still had to go through the rest of the candidates even though I’d already mentally hired Abigail. At the end of the interview, I even walked her out.

She left after saying goodbye again, and I remained the doorway, glancing around the nearly empty room. “Nathan Byers?” I called out reluctantly. There was no reply; he was nowhere in sight.

He had to be kidding me. After generously agreeing to give him an interview, this was how he repaid me?

I was just about to tell the other girl she could come in when the door to the sitting room burst open. “I’m here!” a disheveled Nathan yelled, jogging into the room, looking like he’d just woken up. He came to a stop when he was near enough, smiling as if nothing was wrong.

I crossed my arms over my nonexistent chest. At least I had the boobs of a model. “You’re late.”   

“It’s noon o’one,” he said incredulously.

“Please tell me you did not just say noon o’one.”

“That’s not a word, is it?” he asked solemnly. I didn’t even have to answer. “Okay. Not a word. I’ll keep that in mind. Can I come in?”

I wasn’t sure why he even asked. He didn’t actually give me a chance to answer. He just strolled right in.

“Oh, sure,” I answered sarcastically. “Come on in.” I took a few steps back and shut the door.

“Is this the part where you take advantage of my innocence? Because if it is, you should probably lock the door, too.”

“Of course not. Sit down.” Taking out my phone, I typed, Inconsiderate and late.

“Sweet,” Nathan exclaimed, plopping himself down on my dad’s giant, cushioned chair. “Man, you rich people really have it made. Most of my chairs are made out of metal. If my ass needs a break, I throw a pillow on it and call it a day. I knew I shouldn’t have moved out…”

“That’s my chair,” I said, standing next to the chair and staring at him expectantly. 

“And it spins,” he said, kicking his legs against the ground to make the chair spin a few times. “This is great. You’re not really gonna take this away from me, are you? You have all day to sit on this thing. I have an hour.”

“An hour?” I exclaimed. “How long do you think this interview is going to last?”

Nathan shrugged. “I figure it’ll last a good ten minutes, but you’ll be so in love with me by the end that you’ll let me stick around for another fifty.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t count on it. Let’s just get this over with.” Things weren’t looking good for him. First he was late, and then he stole my chair? Please. “Where’s your resume?” He wasn’t with my staffing company, so it wasn’t sent over.

“Right. My resume. I’ll get back to you on that one.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Are we doing this thing or not?”

I pressed my lips into a tight line and ignored the sudden urge I had to kick him out. “Why are you the best person for this job?”

He thought about this for a moment before answering. “I’m probably not.”

“What?” Had I heard him correctly? I thought he wanted this job.

“I’m probably not the best person for this job. But you’ll hire me anyway.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I look like this,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly.

While I hated to admit it, he may have had a tiny point. It was tempting to hire him just so I could have him around to look at. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt that he filled out extremely well, dark jeans, and white and black Nikes. His hair and face gave me nothing to complain about, either, even though I could tell he’d just gotten up. I didn’t say any of this out loud, of course, but the thoughts were definitely there. God, I sounded like Trish.

Shaking my head, both at myself and at him, I went on with the interview. “Describe yourself.”

“Hunky, charming, and funny.” Nathan leaned back in my dad’s chair, seemingly proud of that answer.

“I’m sure. How do you handle pressure?”

“I cry.”

I didn’t bother asking if he was being serious or not. It didn’t seem like he cared what I thought either way. His answers honestly surprised me, mostly because they were coming from a guy who really couldn’t stand to blow off a job opportunity like this. Bad under pressure, has an unfortunate sense of humor, I noted to myself.

“How long do you expect to work for me?” I asked, setting my phone down on my lap.

“Forever.”

I cringed at the thought. Wow, that was terrifying. I quickly added, has unrealistic expectations. “How would you describe your work pace?”

“Like a tortoise.” When I gave him a look, he said, “Hey, slow and steady wins the race.”

I rolled my eyes and asked, “Why did you leave your last job?”

“I have a problem with authority.”

Has problems with authority, I noted, shaking my head.

“How would you handle it if your boss was wrong?” I asked.

“Well, my boss would be you, and we’re practically best friends, so I’d just tell you,” he replied, grinning at me.

“I thought you said you were charming,” I pointed out.

“I am. I’d tell you charmingly. Now, not that these questions aren’t riveting, but when is it my turn?”

“You’re obviously new at this. You don’t get a turn,” I said, torn between amusement and annoyance. “I’m the boss here. I interview you.”

“I think I get a few questions,” Nathan insisted, going right ahead with his questioning, regardless of my refusal. “So how much will I get paid? This must bring in a nice amount of cash.”

I hesitated, but finally, I decided to go ahead and answer. It wouldn’t hurt to play along. “About $150,000 a year, if you make it that far,” I said, although whoever I hired had to make it that far or else. Not that I was going to tell him that. “If you suck and I hate you, the number will go down.”

“That’s the most normal thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he said, and he actually sounded serious for once. “You usually sound so prissy and uptight.”

“Thanks.” My reply was tight and didn’t sound very grateful at all. I didn’t always sound prissy and uptight. Did I?

“Do I get traveling perks?” he asked.

“You would get to travel with me, yes, if you’re hired.” He seemed to think this was a set deal, which it wasn’t. He was almost as bad as Beatrice.

“First class? Caviar? Top-notch technology?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” I answered. “Is that really all that matters to you?”

“Of course. Are you really as horrible as people say you are? You don’t seem so bad.”

“I’m worse,” I said, kind of hoping I’d scare him away. If he didn’t want the job, I wouldn’t be able to mistakenly hire him. “Being my personal assistant is no walk in the park. You have to attend to all of my affairs, whether they involve work or my personal life, and you have to do it when and how I say to do it.”

“Ouch,” he said.

“Exactly.”

After at least ten more questions from Nathan, he finally seemed content with the job description. “Alright, I’ll take the job.”

For once, something Nathan said actually made me laugh out loud. “When did I say I wanted you to take it?”

“You’ve been staring at my junk for the past half hour. It’s pretty obvious.”

That was a lie, and he knew it, but clearly my body didn’t realize as much because I felt my cheeks heat up the minute he said it. “Shut up. I have one more person to interview. The decision hasn’t been made yet.”

“Come on. Just hire me,” he insisted stubbornly.

I teetered on the edge for a while, trying to decide whether it was an atrociously horrible idea or just a mildly horrible idea. “Answer this question,” I finally said, leaning forward. “Why should I hire you? I still have plenty of people to choose from, even after the bad press I’ve gotten. Why you?”

The reply I received was so honest and spot-on that I was left speechless. “So it comes down to this. I get it, Dree. I’m not as qualified as the rest of the girls you’ve interviewed today, maybe because I have a penis. I don’t get your fashion thing, and I won’t know what to do when you’re stark mad because you’re on your period. But you know what I do know how to do? I know how to cheer people up and distract them from the shitty things in life. I mean, every time I saw you with your mom, you looked upset. But when you were with me, I know you were at least a little amused, which is good enough for me. So maybe I won’t be able to perfectly plan out your days all the time, but I can at least make them entertaining. I can introduce you to the good things in life, like Family guy, video games, and Big Macs. You look like you could use a nice burger. And sure, I’m not the smartest, but if there’s one thing I am, it’s loyal, and isn’t that what’s really important here? At least that way, you’ll know that if you fart in your sleep, I won’t run and tell People.”

Really, after that, what I did wasn’t so surprising. I was, as he said, upset and unhappy most of the time, and he was really, really nice to look at. I found myself ignoring my common sense and saying, “Okay, you’re hired. You start tomorrow.”