personal assistant?

“…as my personal assistant.”

You blinked at the phone, gripping it tighter. “Personal assistant? Like… carrying your purse and handing you bottled water?”

Randall’s laugh crackled through the speaker — a guy’s laugh, deep and familiar, but wrapped in that soft, honeyed voice of Tammy Barnes. The clash made your scalp prickle. “Nah, Timmy, this is Tammy Barnes we’re talking about. Purse-holding is entry-level. You’ll be with me all day, helping me ‘reintegrate into my glamorous lifestyle.’ You’ll drive me around, juggle my schedule, deal with my agent, and—” she paused just long enough to make you sweat, “—protect me from awkward questions like, ‘Hey, weren’t you in a coma last month?’”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Do I sound like I’m kidding?” she shot back, voice lilting. “I can’t exactly wander around without backup — people expect Tammy Barnes to be surrounded by… well… someone. And my old assistant bailed the second she thought I was on my deathbed, so the job’s open.”

Your mind conjured the image instantly: you, trailing after the celebrity in heels and designer sunglasses, secretly your best friend under all that. The thought twisted your stomach in about twelve different ways. “You realize this means I’ll be… like… part of your entourage?”

Her voice dropped into a playful purr. “Exactly. And if anyone asks, you’re just some eager college kid getting work experience. Totally normal. Totally un-suspicious.” A beat, then she muttered, half to herself, “And maybe you can stop me from saying ‘dude’ in front of my publicist.”

“You’re insane,” you said — though your voice cracked in a way that made it sound less like an insult and more like surrender.

“Think about it, Timmy,” she pressed. “Every day, we’re together. You keep me from slipping up and acting like Randall. And you get paid way more than that crappy grocery store job your dad keeps nagging you about. Win-win.”

You hesitated. “And what if I say no?”

Her laugh rolled out again, sharp and wicked. “Too late. I already told them you’d start Monday.”

“You already told them?”

“Of course I did,” she said, pure mischief dripping from Tammy’s lips. “What can I say, Timmy? I’m a woman who knows what she wants.”