Joselyn needs a job.
Penelope needs someone to keep an eye on her boyfriend while she's gone.
It's the perfect match.
But, add in said boyfriend's charismatic side-kick and a troubled past desperate to resurface, and Josie's surveillance may be i...
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My headphones could work magic with a majority of my problems. The noise of my roommates through my paper-thin walls, the never-ending and ever-consistent drip of the tap from the sink in the bathroom, my phone ringing with yet another call going to voicemail from my brother. They were all filmed with a euphoric buzz and a lo-fi beat.
But not even my best playlist was enough to combat the gnawing stress of my overdue rent. The inevitable eviction notice. I swear the crease of skin between my brows was days from imprinting into a permanent wrinkle. Maybe I'd jump from nineteen to thirty in just a matter of weeks.
With reluctance, I pulled the buds from my ears, rolling over my duvet and reaching into my bag—proudly self-made from a collection of fabric offcuts. Beneath my notebooks and pens was an assortment of ripped paper like some kind of sad confetti. It took me shaking out the bag's entire contents to collect each one. Being the first day of the spring semester, the college noticeboard had been plastered with all kinds of financial opportunities, and I'd ripped off every single stub.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. Janitorial work. Tutoring preppy rich kids. Dog walking. People asked for anything on these kinds of things, and with a reluctant stretch of my shoulders I grabbed my phone, exiting the missed calls from Sebastian and texting the first of many phone numbers.
It was only an hour later—while I was repairing the handle of our communal frying pan in the low-budget flat I'd secured for a second semester (for now, at least)—when the first response lit up my screen. I pushed a rogue ringlet from my forehead and leaned over the counter, propping my elbows on the cheap laminate. I couldn't even remember the dozens of people I'd messaged, only that I'd probably do anything if it meant surviving here another week.
RE: PERSONAL ASSISTANT. Hi, I'm Josleyn Preston, I'm in my freshman year of a business major. I'm looking for extra work, and I'd be interested to hear more information!
Hi Joselyn, this is Penelope. A business major sounds ideal, actually. Do you think we could meet for coffee tomorrow? I'm under a time crunch to find someone for the job.
I straightened, almost hitting my head on the cupboard above me.
Perfect. How's nine?
I didn't really believe in nine-am starts, but I did believe in making a good impression. So far, college hadn't been easy with no help from my parents, and though my grades and application essays were enough to earn me a scholarship for tuition, I had to fight for every other cent of my living costs. I'd spent all winter break applying for jobs when the town was empty of college kids, but there was something about a girl with no experience. If I could increase my chances even a little, I'd do anything.
When I scanned my closet, my eyes puffy from sleep and the ends of my hair rampant the next morning, I realized very little of my wardrobe actually read Personal Assistant. I knew nothing about Penelope, but I was already suspecting she was someone of importance. She did need a PA, after all. Between distressed denim, waist hugging corduroy, and stripes, I could barely cough up anything interview worthy, save for my plain white blouse and slacks. They were usually what sufficed, but something told me meeting at the café along the pier was not a black and white occasion. I pictured wealthy business-people in gentle textures and shiny watches laughing gracefully over a white tablecloth.
