“But could you just ask? Please?”

She nods as if she’s going to do it, but I can tell she’s already writing me off.

Outside on the sidewalk, we say our farewells, and as I walk away, I feel hopeless.

I just might have to make it work at the hotel for a while instead of finding an apartment, which sucks considering even though it’s a budget-friendly place, it’s still draining my funds faster than I’d like and it’s absolutely tiny.

For the second time today, I feel like a complete idiot. I graduated from RISD with a half-baked plan to move to New York City, and I’m embarrassed to admit I thought it would be a little bit easier than this. A part of me wants to blame my parents for not preparing me for the real world. I lived an incredibly sheltered life until I moved away for college, and that’s coming back to bite me in the ass. What kind of idiot doesn’t know you need some kind of credit history and past income statements if you want to be able to lease an apartment? Apparently, this idiot.

My phone rings when I’m on the subway platform waiting on the train, still beating myself up. My first hope is that it’s Lisa calling me back already with good news, but it’s an unknown number. Usually, I’d let it go to voicemail, but I answer instead, just in case Lisa is calling me from her office line or something.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Am I speaking with Elizabeth?” a female voice asks.

“Uh, yes.” A train screeches to a halt behind me, and I press my finger to my exposed ear so I can hear the person on the other end better. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is April, Mr. Jennings’ assistant,” she replies, all business with her prim-and-proper tone.

“Walt’s assistant?”

“Yes. Mr. Walter Jennings II.”

Good grief, what a mouthful.

“Oh, okay.”

“Yes, sorry if I’ve caught you at a bad time, but I have a few things to go over with you.”

“Wait, I’m confused. I thought Mason was Walt’s assistant.”

“Yes, that’s correct. Mason is Mr. Jennings’ first assistant. I’m the one who handles his grunt work.”

I think she meant her statement to be self-deprecating, but there’s a heavy pause as we both realize she’s just referred to me as grunt work. I can’t help it. After the day I’ve had, I actually laugh.

“Is there any way we could pretend I didn’t just say that?” she asks, sounding thoroughly embarrassed and much less professional than she did at the start of the phone call. I think we’ve both decided to drop pretense.

“Sure, yeah. It’s fine. What did you say you’re calling about again? I’m waiting on my train so I’m worried the call might drop at any second.”

“Oh! I’ll be brief then. I have a packet of information to email over to you from Mr. Jennings’ lawyer. They need you to review it, sign, and email it back as soon as possible.”