a P

d the news that my mother's latest round of chemo was a total bust. And here I was, pl

d a few miles away to a cramped, noisy café, and leeched off t

MacBook practically overheating on the sticky table. T

salary, no matter how sketchy it looked. Customer Service Rep? Sent. Data Entry Clerk? Sent.

buzzed against the table. An unknown local number. Normally, I'd send it straight to voicema

pushed through the heavy glass doors to a rela

e on the other end was a woman's. Cris

." My pulse ki

ng on behalf of my client regarding your appl

as this the two-hundred-thousand-dollar-a-year listing Zoe and I had jo

My thumb hovered over t

s highly intrigued by your resume, specifically your extens

hell did I even write? Something about managing "media fallout" fo

ock. The address and specific protocol will be sent to you via text shortly." Her wor

aged to scrape my voice together

he client until a formal Non-Disclosure Agreement is signed on-site." Airtigh

ic

e pressed against my ear, feeling like I

ibrated against m

ve lump in my throat, and forced a bright, b

me not to run myself ragged. Every word physically ached. I bit the inside of my cheek

lied, the words tasting like ash. "We're act

brick wall of the café, totally drained. I hated lying t

i

East Side of Manhattan, accompanied by a ridiculously detailed

in my chest. A scam? Maybe. Walking straight into the lion's den? Pro

and charger into my tote bag. I needed to get home. I needed to dig through the ab

ing to decide m