One night stand with my daddy's best friend

MATTHEW

"Oof," grunted my assistant, Sandra, as she staggered into my o ce.

She was getting bigger by the day and waddled to my desk with her iPad in her hands. Her previously pale, thin face was now full and rosy, and her hair, which used to be tied up in a tight bun most of the time, hung loose around her shoulders. "Sandra, I told you to take time off," I said to her as she perched on the edge of my sleek, black glass desk. "It's ridiculous, you coming into work every day when you're seven months pregnant."

"What am I supposed to do? Go home and put my feet up?"

"Yes, that's literally exactly what you're supposed to do."

She waved her hand dismissively at me and flicked through files on her iPad. "That sounds like hell," she said. "I hate being stuck at home. It's too boring. I'd rather be here getting on with things." "You'll have to take time off eventually." "Yeah, when the baby drops."

"Well, I hope you don't drop it on this carpet. Just had it steam cleaned." She gave me a look, one eyebrow arched as I chuckled. "Look," I said, leaning toward her. "You've been

with me since the start. You're not just my assistant, you're..."

"Like a sister?"

"I was going to say friend, but sure. You're like my little sister, I suppose. I don't want you working too much when you should be thinking of the baby. Please, promise me after this week you'll take some time off." She looked back down at the screen and said, "I'll think about it. Besides, the holidays are coming up. I'll get a short break then."

I nodded, knowing full well that she'd spend the holidays cooking like she always did.

"Anyway," she said, clearly ending the conversation. "You've got a busy day ahead of you. Wanna hear the schedule?"

"Shoot."

"Okay, so your first meeting of the day is with Gigi Deloma at nine thirty."

I looked up at the clock and saw it was twenty past already.

"But she's always late," Sandra added. "True."

"After that, you've got a meeting with Eddie Goldwyn." "Goldwyn? Already? I wasn't supposed to meet him until Friday."

"He called first thing this morning. Pretty much forced me to slot him in today." "Shit!"

That didn't sound good. It had been two months since I put forward the plan to buy the Goldwyn chain of gyms. As far as I was concerned, we had a few minor things to smooth out before the big day on Friday when we finally shook hands on the deal. But he was here today? Something about that felt all wrong.

I knew Goldwyn. Not only was he my idol growing up, but he was my closest business competitor. I had studied him closely and knew that he didn't make decisions lightly or rush a meeting. Whatever he was here to talk about had to be important.

"Who's after him?" I asked Sandra.

"You're interviewing for the position of operations consultant with a woman named Becca Canmore?"

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Becca, I thought. She had been such a sweet kid, and it had been years since I'd seen her. The last time had been when she was packing her things to move away to college. I could barely believe she was that age already, but time flew like a motherfucker.

When I'd seen her dad, Bob, last night, he'd said she was back in town and borderline desperate to get a job in fitness. He mentioned she had some big ideas to share with me and that he thought she would be a great employee. On the spur of the moment, I'd told him to bring her along to an interview. I wasn't sure if I could hire her, but an interview wouldn't hurt. Bob had been my best buddy for over two decades, and I'd watched Becca grow up from being the apple of her dad's eye to a basketball champion and now a college graduate.

The least I could do was give Becca a chance and interview her. She might even be a good fit at the company. Not to mention Bob hadn't helped me through my finals in college, I wouldn't even have the career I had now. From outside in the waiting room where Sandra's desk sat, a buzzer sounded.

"That'll be Gigi," she said, sliding off my desk with a groan.

"I doubt it. She's never on time for anything. Pretty sure she was late to her own birth."

"She'd be early for you," Sandra laughed as she pressed the button for the door. "She can't take her eyes off you. I reckon she's got you in mind as her next ex-husband."

"Don't say that. I couldn't find anything less appealing than lying next to her plastic ass every night."

"Ouch!"

It sounded harsh but I meant it. She was the fakest woman I'd ever met; more silicone than human. The majority of men found her attractive, and why wouldn't they? She was a celebrity pop star, the hottest thing since Britney Spears. But for some reason, she was as sexually appealing to me as a wet fish and had a worse personality.

"That's her coming in just now," Sandra told me.

I rose from my seat, ready to welcome her. She sauntered in with her entourage in tow: two bodyguards, a life coach who followed her everywhere to help her manage her anxiety, and her manager, a squat man named Bertie in a white suit. Gigi herself stood just under five foot five even in her high heels and was clad head to toe in fur. Even her boots were made from what I recognized from Olivia's wardrobe as rabbit.

"Matthew dahling!" she cooed and gave me an air kiss.

I reached out to shake her hand, and she slipped her icy fingers between mine.

"What's the need for formality?" she asked, sliding off her sunglasses to reveal her pale blue eyes lined with thick makeup. I couldn't help but notice on either side of her nose were two small bruises from where she'd recently had fillers. "I'm so excited to be here," she trilled, taking a seat while her entourage gathered behind her. My o ce was by no means small, but with everyone packed around my desk, it

felt cramped.

"Sandra, some drinks in here, please?"

She nodded and departed, returning a few moments later with a tray of sparkling water.

"So," Gigi said, picking at her long fingernails. "How's the campaign going?"

It was a simple question, but I didn't have a simple answer. Six months ago, all the big boys in corporate decided that a great way to boost publicity would be to place some of our celebrity clients in the commercials with before and after shots of their bodies.

"People will go nuts for it!" one of my consultants, Alan, had told me. "It'll pull in the big bucks, I swear!"

It had sounded like a solid plan, except the results hadn't been what we'd expected. We got all the biggest names we could muster from our client books, actors, singers, models, and sports stars, and plastered their images beside our name. But for some reason, the public wasn't biting. If anything, it looked as though they were put off by our new advertising strategy. And from the feedback we'd collected from the public, it looked as though Gigi's commercial was the least popular of all. "She's so annoying!" one viewer commented. "She looks so fake!"

"We know her body wasn't built in the gym. It was created on the operating table."

And so it went on.