My boss hired me while I was drunk out of my mind at a party. Wobbling around, whining about being unemployed.
But… it was no charity. I’m
qualified over-qualified for this job. Seriously, I’m really, really good. So
good that that I got drunk (again) and fell into Simon’s bed.
Mr. Simon Cox. Uptight. Freakishly organized. Too proud. And way too rich. All the things I’m not. All the things I never want to be. Imagine his reaction when he enters my Brooklyn apartment that looks more like a pig sty than a
home.
