The Perfect Fit

I stare at Alison Steadman, my arms folded over my chest. I admire her so much, and I love this goddamn job. I will put dog poop in West’s protein shake if he’s ruined this for me.

“Yes?” She frowns. She’s probably not used to people barging into her office like this.

“I know.”

She rests her hands on her desk in front of her and leans forward. “Know what?”

“About West asking you to give me this job.”

Laughing, she shakes her head. “I knew he’d tell you.”

I fling my arms down by my sides, acutely aware that I’m acting like a belligerent teenager. “So you didn’t see my article on the puppy farm? That’s not why you hired me?”

She pushes her chair back, crosses her legs, and fixes me with the infamous Steadman stare that I’ve only heard about until now. “Take a seat, Lily.”

I do as she asks, anxious now that she’s using that boss bitch tone she does so well. She’s freaking amazing.

“While I might be willing to do West Archer a favor now and then, do not insult my integrity by suggesting that I would risk my magazine. I wouldn’t do that for anybody. Yes, I agreed to give you a job because he asked me to. But I could have given you a job making coffee or sorting paper clips. I gave you the features position because you are an insightful writer.”

I sink into my chair. “Oh.”

“I made you features editor because you impressed the hell outta me in your first week.”

My cheeks burn. “Oh.”

She tilts her head to the side, a smirk playing on her lips. “Oh.”

“Thank you, Alison. I’m sorry about storming in here, but he told me—and then I thought—and I just love it here so much.”

She holds up her hand, and I take it as a signal to stop babbling. “I get it. I understand needing to make it on your own merit. And I admire that about you. Believe me when I say that I wouldn’t insult you by blowing smoke up your ass, no matter who your boyfriend is. Okay?” A little of her Jersey accent slips in, and it makes me smile.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now get back to work. You owe me an article by noon.”

I jump up from my chair. “It will be ready by eleven, boss.”