Go Hex Yourself

I turn to look at Lisa, and as I do, I suck in a breath at the sight of a glowering god standing in the doorway to the room. The man there looks . . . intense. He’s impossibly tall, with broad shoulders that would put a linebacker to shame. He’s dressed in a black suit with a black shirt underneath, complete with black tie, and his hair is dark and just brushes his collar. The long, solemn face is unsmiling, his expression stern, but his mouth is full and pink and shocking against the paleness of his skin.

“Who are you?” he asks bluntly, ignoring Lisa and looking right at me.

“Hello,” I gush, extending my hand and moving forward. “I’m Reggie Johnson, here about the job. I’m such a big fan of . . .”

The tall man gives me an up-and-down look and then dismisses me as if I’m unimportant. He turns to Lisa and holds out a piece of paper. “I need these books from the library. Today. And did you file those requests I asked for?”

“I’ll get to them,” Lisa says tersely. She deliberately rubs her belly and glares at the man, who glares back.

Well, this is awkward. I tuck my hands back down to my sides and glance between the two of them. I truly hope that this isn’t going to be my boss, because yikes. Hot but pissy.

The man casts another imperious look in my direction and then points a finger at Lisa. “Get it done, today.” He turns on his heel and leaves without acknowledging me, and then he’s gone.

Lisa sticks her tongue out at his back. “Such a dick.”

My mouth has gone dry. “Is that . . . Mr. Magnus?” If so, my boss has a stunningly handsome (and stunningly dickish) husband.

“Sure is.”

I divert my attention to what looks like a stack of bills shoved under a book, and my hands twitch with the need to clean up. “Does Mr. Magnus work for his wife?”

Her eyes widen, and then she chuckles. “Oh no. That’s a Mr. Magnus, but he’s not married to Dru. He’s her nephew and between assistants himself, so I’m having to fill in.” She leans toward me confidentially. “No one likes him. Can’t keep anyone in his employ.”

My smile returns. “I’m good at multitasking.” I’m also a huge suck-up.

Lisa snaps her fingers and then pulls out her phone. “While I’m thinking about it, I had a few questions for you.”

“Oh, of course.” I read a book last night on interview questions one could expect for a fast-paced job, so I’m more than ready for this. I do wonder when we’re going to get to the sit-down part of the interview, but maybe Lisa’s just doing introductions before I meet her boss. That makes sense, and I give her a practiced “I’m very interested” look. “Ask away.”

She flicks through her phone with her thumb. “Any allergies, food or otherwise?”

“No.” Weird, but maybe I’d be in charge of getting coffee or grocery shopping or something. Some assistants do that, don’t they? “Do you need to write this down? Should I take notes for you?” I dig in my purse, pulling out a notepad and pen. “I’m happy to do so.”

“Not necessary.” Lisa taps something on her phone, and I’m pretty sure I hear game music. She stares at the screen for a moment and then looks back at me. “Star sign?”

Getting weirder. “Taurus.”

“Ah, a hard worker and stubborn.” She dimples, nodding. “She’ll like that. Tauruses are great employees. Very easy to work with.”

“Thank . . . you?”

“Too bad Mr. Magnus is a Cancer. Very moody.” She makes a face, still locked onto her phone. “Here we go. Any particular crystal affinity?” She gestures at one of the shelves, and I notice for the first time that there are rows and rows of crystals of all shapes and sizes in glass containers. Not in any sort of order, of course, but I’m sure I can help with that, too.

“Um, I don’t think so?” This is definitely verging on fully weird territory. I’m starting to get a little uneasy, but I glance around the office again. Maybe this woman is some kind of new-age hipster that needs inspiration to work on the game? “What do crystals have to do with the position?”

“A lot. Blood type?”

“Is that really important?” I ask finally, resisting the urge to show my frustration.

“Not necessarily,” Lisa admits. “But Ms. Magnus likes to know.”

“I’m an O.”

“Wonderful.” She types with her thumb. “Any physical ailments? Do you work out at a gym? Eat healthy?”

I’m torn between pointing out that those are extremely inappropriate questions and just answering, because I really want the job. “I count macros,” I say after a long moment. “For my nutrition.” And because it feeds my obsessive need for control to hit the numbers perfectly.

She tilts her head. “I guess that’s pretty good. Come with me, and I’ll show you into Ms. Magnus’s personal offices.”

I follow behind her, glancing backward at the “lab” we’re leaving. If that’s not the office . . . Nope, Reggie. Don’t ask questions until they mention the pay. You’ve had weird jobs before. As long as it pays well, you can put up with weirdness. I paste a smile on my face and follow Lisa’s slower steps down the hall and toward the stairs. As we cut through the house, I glance over at the kitchen. Mr. Magnus is in there, with a glass of water in front of him on the counter. He’s leaning over it and staring intently in our direction, practically scowling.

I can’t help but notice that the kitchen is in complete disarray, with dishes on the counter and several cabinets hanging open. Maybe he hates the mess as much as I do, and that’s why he’s cranky.

“Just ignore him,” Lisa continues. “He doesn’t like strangers. Remember. Cancer sign.”

Right. Moody. That fits him. I cast a brilliant smile in his direction, and I’m pleased when he gives me a startled look and turns away. I could swear he’s blushing. Suck on that, Magnus.

We walk down the hall, and it seems the house gets bigger the deeper I go into it. The hall branches off into two others, both of them lined with doors, and there’s a high ceiling with a crystal-covered chandelier above the stairwell. I gaze around me in awe as Lisa leads me past a glorious-looking library filled to the gills with all kinds of old books. There are portraits on the walls, most of them old, and I realize that the Magnus family is old, old money. No wonder they’re eccentric. Lisa heads toward a pair of double doors and opens them. “Just have a seat, and I’ll let Ms. Magnus know that you’re here.”

“Thank you,” I murmur and step inside.

She turns and goes to leave and then pauses in the doorway. “Actually, before I go, I should give you a bit of a warning about Ms. Magnus.” Lisa gives me an apologetic little look. “She can be a bit of a . . .” She hesitates, clearly choosing her words.

Oh boy. Here it comes. “Hard-ass?”

Lisa clears her throat. “Ding-dong.”

I blink.

Of all the things I expected to hear, “ding-dong” wasn’t one of them. This whole place has a weird vibe, and the more Lisa talks, the more I’m not sure this is a good idea. I think about the weird nutrition questions, and my Spidey sense tingles. “You know what? Maybe I should go—”

“No! You’re the only applicant so far!” A panicked look comes across her face. “You read the ad, so you’re clearly more than qualified. Please, Regina, just stay a little longer. I know Ms. Magnus can be a bit eccentric, but that’s why she pays her assistants so well.”

I bite my lip. “Exactly how well?” I feel like a bit of a heel for asking, but since she’s calling her employer a ding-dong, I guess politeness is out the window, right?

Her expression relaxes. “Twenty-five thousand.”

I blanch. “A year?” I do some quick math in my head. That’s a little under five hundred a week, and I’m pretty sure the local coffee shop pays more than that. Maybe I should apply there instead. Oh, but the tables there are always so damned messy. It’d drive me crazy to see customers leaving the place like that.

“Oh no.” Lisa giggles. “A month. It pays twenty-five thousand a month.” She leans forward and puts a hand to her mouth, whispering. “She’s loaded. Absolutely no clue of what anything costs these days.”

My mouth goes dry, and my knees feel weak. “A m-month?” I stammer. That’s insane. That’s three hundred grand a year.