The instinctive part of my brain told me to say no immediately. The list of reasons why was immense. Kiegan was a bully. I hated him, had hated him for years. He was a Hunt, and I’d done my best to get away from that family. I wanted nothing to do with them.
Still, it seemed like maybe Kiegan had grown up just a little bit. He had been nice at dinner tonight, he hadn’t once made a comment about my weight, and almost complimented me once.
It was also obvious that he didn’t seem especially keen on his family either.
No, stop it. You’ve spent years hating him, why do this?
The $20,000 was a big incentive. Hell, I’d only come out for dinner with him because I needed the free meal. Even if I only lasted a year, I could probably negotiate myself a good salary, and have some nice savings by the end.
I can’t believe you’re actually considering this, I scolded myself.
“What kind of salary are we talking about?” I asked. If he was only offering $30,000 or so, I could say no.
“I was thinking $90,000 to start. It’s negotiable, of course.”
I imagine most business textbooks don’t have “let your jaw drop to the floor when he suggests a number” as a good strategy in negotiations, but that was exactly what I did. I was being offered a 90k a year job, with a 20k bonus?
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am serious. It’s a tough job. Long hours, tons of travel, I’d actually recommend not renting an apartment when you work for me, it’s a waste of money. It’s hard work, too. I have a lot of stuff that needs organizing, especially with the TV show. And there are always sharks that need to be told to fuck off. Plus you have to be at my beck and call 24/7. But on the bright side, you get to work with me.”
“I’m still not hearing any positives,” I muttered, and Kiegan laughed.
“Come on. You know you want to do it.”
“Fine,” I heard myself say, and a part of my brain started screaming “nooooooooooooo” at me. But it was too late.
“Awesome.” Kiegan pulled a checkbook out of his jacket pocket (who just carries those around?) and immediately wrote out a check for 20 grand. Handed it over to me. “You start in three days.”
“I just have one condition.”
“Shoot.”
“I don’t want the fact that I’m working for you mentioned to anyone in the family. I don’t want them finding out, and I don’t want to be around if you see any of them.”
“Easy. I don’t see or speak to them either.”
“Good.”
What I’d just agreed to started sinking in, and I began to feel a bit dizzy. This was really happening. I was holding a cheque in my hands for more money than I myself had ever had in my whole life. But had I just signed away my soul?
The waitress eventually came by and cleared our plates, and we had desert before Kiegan drove me back to my apartment in that flashy car of his.
“So you’ll come by on Tuesday,” he said. “I’ll make sure my secretary knows you’ll be there by eight.”
“Wait, you have a secretary and also need a personal assistant?”
“Of course!”
“Gee, the other half really do live better than us mere mortals.”
“I look forward to bossing you around,” he told me with a wink as he left me at the door of my building.
“Thanks for dinner. And the job. And the cheque,” I replied. I wasn’t totally sure, but I thought it might have been the first time I thanked Kiegan for anything in my life.
“Don’t mention it. Consider the cheque an apology for Harvard.”
“That one’s going to cost you more than 20 grand.”
“Fair enough. Good night, little sis.”
And with that, he got into the car and drove off.
“You’re only six months older than I am,” I muttered as he drove off. I looked at the cheque again, still not completely convinced it was real, that this was really happening.
I was going to work for Hunt the Cunt.
Chapter Ten
The next few days were spent trying to organize all my things. It wasn’t like I owned a lot: mainly I had a few clothes, my laptop and a few books. They all fit in the duffle bag I’d brought over with me from Boston.
When I woke up the day after the dinner with my brother I felt like I had the worst hangover, and yet I hadn’t had any alcohol. It was a hangover from the decision I’d made.
I spent that entire first morning going back and forth about whether or not I should call Kiegan and tell him I’d changed my mind. But every time I looked at the cheque, and looked at my empty cupboard, I stopped myself. I didn’t have to work for him forever. Maybe a year. That would give me some good savings, especially since whenever we travelled hotels and food would be covered by his company.
I could put up with him bossing me around for a year, right?