“Hello,” Amy calls as she hustles into the apartment and sets her backpack against the wall. “Super nanny,” she adds with a grin.

I roll my eyes. “Not yet.”

“But soon.” She walks into the kitchen and inspects the avocados I’ve just sliced into a bowl. “Nice. Looks good.”

“Here’s hoping. These cost an arm and a leg.”

“For avocados?” She pulls a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge and takes a long swig.

“When you don’t have a job, they do.”

“You have a job.” Amy pokes me in the side.

“I have an agency,” I correct, mashing the avocados with a fork. “The job has yet to come.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all morose on me now.”

“I’m not.” I grin. “The first job is coming. They promised me that. I’m just stating the facts. I don’t have much money.”

“Join the club,” Amy laughs. “Being a student isn’t exactly cheap, even when the army is picking up the bill.”

We both know why we’re so broke. It’s the exorbitant rent. There’s no point in complaining about it, though. We’ve chosen to live here—me because it’s my home, and Amy because she loves the area. For the both of us, being by each other’s side is the best part of it all.

“How were your classes, wifey?” I ask, giving her a wink.

She shrugs. “Just another afternoon of old guys talking while I took notes.”

“You like this spicy, right?” I give her a questioning look as I reach for the cayenne.

“Yes. Please. Burn my taste buds off.” Amy sets the sparkling water down and grabs the unopened bottle of tequila from the top of the fridge. “Is it too early to start drinking? Wait. Don’t answer that.”

I finish making the guacamole as Amy mixes margaritas. The whole time, pop music blares from her phone and we shimmy around.

“We’re going to turn into alcoholics,” I comment, licking salt from my glass’s rim.

“Speak for yourself.” Amy dips a tortilla chip in the guacamole. We haven’t even made it to the table. Instead, we’re sitting on the counter, the snacks and margaritas between us. I take the last sip of my drink, enjoying the woozy feeling.

“So, tell me the truth.” I point an accusatory finger at her. “Did you get back on that dating site after I went to bed last night?”

“Um…no. Why would you think that?” She smiles guiltily. “What made you guess?”

“There were a few clues this morning. Empty hummus container. Kitchen light left on. Your computer wide open on your reactivated profile.”

“Darn.”

“Don’t be ashamed,” I laugh. “Just make me another drink.”

I hand my empty glass to her just as my phone rings from somewhere in the other room.

“Ugh.” I lethargically jump down from the counter. “I don’t want to walk all the way over there.”

“So don’t.”

“It’s probably my mom. She said she’d call today to see how the interview went.” I take a few steps across the living room, swaying a bit. I don’t have much of a booze tolerance, and Amy must have made the margarita stronger than I’m used to.

Behind me, she laughs. “You’re not drunk after one margarita, are you?”

“Can it. You make them strong.”

Picking my phone up from the coffee table, I frown at the unknown number.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Jayne Hayfield?”

“This is her,” I sluggishly say, feeling way too tipsy for this conversation.

“This is Rebecca from Prestige Nannies. First of all, congratulations. We’re very happy to have you on the team.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, hoping, for some reason, that the smell of tequila isn’t detectable over the phone.

From the kitchen, Amy gives me a questioning look.

“Now,” Rebecca goes on, “I’m calling because I have a job opportunity for you.”

“Really?” My heart flutters. “Already?”

A job, I mouth at Amy. Her eyebrows rise, and she gives me a double thumbs-up.

“Yes. Can you be downtown this afternoon?”

“This…this afternoon?” I gulp. “What, um…what time?”

“Preferably within the hour.”

“Um.”

Amy stares at me. My ears ring.

“Hello?” Rebecca asks.

“Yes,” I thickly answer. “I’m here.”

Shit, shit, shit. What am I going to do?

“Can you make it to an interview today? We have a potential job for you, and the client would just like to make sure you’ll be a good fit.”

“Just for an interview?” I ask. “It’s not for actual work?”

“I believe so,” Rebecca slowly answers. “But the client didn’t specify. He just needs someone to come in right away.”

“Okay.” I bite down on my lip. I can do this. I might be one cocktail deep, but it’s just an interview.

“Wonderful. I’ll text you the information now. Please remember to adhere to all the policies outlined in the handbook. Remember, you’re representing us all. Good luck!”

Rebecca hangs up, and my gaze falls to the handbook that I dropped on the coffee table. I just got it this morning. I haven’t even cracked it yet.

“Well?” Amy eagerly asks, hurrying over to me. “You have an interview?”

“Yeah. Now.” My mouth is so dry it’s a miracle I even get the two words out.

“Woohoo!” She raises her hand for a high five, but I just stare dumbly at it. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m in no position to go to an interview right now. I can’t even drive.”

“So get a cab.” Amy’s phone is already out, and she’s typing away. “I’m ordering you one now.”

“Okay.” I nod and swallow. “What am I going to do? What am I going to say? What if I mess everything up? I could blow the interview, and the agency will fire me before I’ve even done a day’s work.”

“Jayne.” Amy places her hands on my shoulders. “Chill. It’s going to be fine. If anything, the buzz you have going on will help you in the interview. You’ll be super relaxed.”

“Uh…yeah, I guess.”

My phone beeps, and I take a look at the text from Rebecca: an address, a building, and a name.

“Benjamin Glen,” I slowly say. “That sounds familiar.”

“Benjamin Glen,” Amy repeats. “Are you serious?”

I reread the text. “Yeah. GlenTech. That’s where the interview is.”

“Holy shit,” Amy breathes. “Jayne, you’re interviewing with the CEO of one of the biggest software companies in the country. No, the world.”

Cue the sweating palms and uneven breathing. “What? No. I can’t be.”

“This agency isn’t screwing around. They really do have the most exclusive clients. Did you know that Benjamin Glen created VetLink?”

“That’s that…that…” I shake my head, looking for words. The room spins, and it’s no longer just because of the alcohol.

“The social media site for veterans. Wow. This is so cool. Hey, maybe he wants to interview you because you’re ex-military.”

“Uh. I don’t know.” I search for my purse. “Maybe. Where’s my coat?”

“It’s pretty warm out.”

“I need some kind of jacket,” I insist. “In case it gets colder.”

“Right there.” She points at my jacket, tossed over the back of the couch.

I slip the jacket on. “How do I look?”

“Hold on.” Amy steps forward and smooths some hair behind my hair. “Great.” She glances down at her phone. “Your car is here.”

My heartbeat must double. Is this happening? Am I really about to go interview with one of the richest men in the world while spinning from tequila?

“I have to go,” I stumble, tripping over both my words and feet.

“Jayne.”

“Huh?” At the door, I spin around.

Amy pointed looks down. I follow her gaze and see I’m wearing house slippers. Though I kept on the morning’s outfit, I switched from heels to the most comfy footwear I own the second I got home.

“Right.” Kicking off the slippers, I pull on my heels and pray they don’t send me tumbling in the street—or worse, tumbling in the middle of Mr. Glen’s office. “Wish me luck.”

“Hold on!” Amy darts into the kitchen and returns a moment later with a bottle of water. “You should chug this.”

“You said being tipsy will help!”

She grimaces. “Good luck.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, knowing I’ll be needing it.