Virgin Lips

36. Now I can pass out for real

"Really?" Oscar grinned like a Cheshire cat, his eyes brightening.

Our boss nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "It was part of our deal, after all, wasn't it?" She said to him, then turned to me. "Oscar was um ... kind of stolen," – cue his chuckle –, "he had originally applied to work with ..." she raised her index finger to point up, namely the last floor of the building, namely the place where her soon-to-be-husband's main offices are, "but there was no uh vacancy at the time. I happened to be there and ..."

"She took pity on me." Oscar laughed. "Offered me a job as her assistant until I either found something else or ... well, a spot freed ..." he hinted upstairs as well.

I nodded, still unsure what was going on. "So, you're leaving?" I asked him. I didn't intend to say it coldly, but it probably came out that way, because we really don't know each other enough for me to care if Oscar goes to work elsewhere or not.

"That's the thing!" Ms. Benedetti said, excited, grinning. "With Oscar going to work for Lucas, I ... am going to need a new assistant ..." she beamed, this time directed at me.

I blinked my eyes, still a bit perplexed, but now kind of putting two and two together. "So, you want me to ... replace him?" That came out wrong. But they both smiled, nodding, meaning I did get it right, for once.

Ms. Benedetti went on explaining that as her assistant I would more clearly see how all of this – publishing – works, because I would be in contact with pretty much department. It's as if she were outlining my plans before my eyes without me even knowing I had them.

Not that I ever really thought that far. My 5-year-plan wasn't that detailed, it was more along the lines of: be self-sufficient, have a more stable life, do at least a few of the things I've always dreamed about.

Like traveling, seeing more of the world – or rather, seeing the world per se, since I've only really seen New York so far. Ben and I even talked about this – about traveling together, going places, like Europe or ... ugh. No. No, no, no. No thinking about him.

"You okay, Joanna?" I realized I was shaking my head repeatedly when my boss placed her silky hands over my shoulders, staring at me worriedly.

"Sorry, I ..." I cleared my throat, taking a step back because I'm not very comfortable with people invading my personal space. "I was uh ... thinking."

"You don't like the idea?"

"No, I ... it's a great plan." It really is. "But ..." how do I ask her about money without sounding demanding or just ... plebeian? Before being the fiancé of the Golden Bachelor, based on what I read, Ms. Benedetti was wealthy nevertheless – her mom is a lawyer, her dad is a cop, they have this ... mansion in Italy, where they spend every summer.

It's also true that you can't really believe gossip, but the point is, to her ears I may sound like ... I don't know, Jane Eyre with Blanche Ingram. Well, maybe that's not a fair comparison, Ms. Benedetti is the exact opposite of that little conceited harpy that Blanche was.

"But ...?" My boss repeated, expecting a full answer. Meanwhile Oscar had disappeared out of thin air.

"But uh ... how does that change my position?" Oh, very diplomatic, good idea.

She smiled. "We can review an example of the contract signed by Oscar, and start from there. And yes, my personal assistant gets paid more than an intern." She rolled her eyes playfully, kind of causing me to chuckle – I restrained myself in time, it's still my employer, after all. But I felt relieved. I guess at least one side of my life might actually go well. If only the rest didn't follow Bridget Jones' theory.