Head bowed in fear, I stood like Anne Boleyn in front of the guillotine, waiting for Mr.

Klein to verbally decapitate me for interfering in a case.

What I got, however, was a smile. An oily, self satisfied smile, like the cat that ate the canary.

He gestured towards the chair in front of his desk, ‘Please sit down.’

I complied and folded my hands in my lap to hide their shaking.

‘Ms. Porter, before we begin, I’d like to remind you of the confidentiality clause in your job offer. Anything related or pertaining to any of the cases filed with this firm are not to be spoken of outside the premises.’

I nodded emphatically, ‘Yes, sir. I remember, but I haven’t talked to anyone about anything related to this firm.’

... Ok, that’s not completely true. Of course I talk James and Jen about some of the saps and gold diggers that waltz through here, they’re my best friends.

And occasionally I might mention something to my other coworkers.

And maybe I hint at a few clients when I talk to my parents…

And my friends from dance class…

And my hairdresser…

And the cashier at that 7/11 one time...

Wow, definitely not helping my case here. But since I always change the names of the clients, technically, I’m not talking about them. So I guess I wasn’t lying after all. Ha!

Mr. Klein smiled and chuckled, ‘No one’s saying you did, Ms. Porter. I just wanted to get that out of the way.’

‘Oh um, okay.’

He smiled again and I broke out into a sweat. I swear, one more smile and I’m calling an exorcist.

‘Alright, let’s get down to business.’

Before I could stop myself, I thought ‘To defeat the Huns?’

‘What was that Ms. Porter?’

…

…..

…….

…..…… Oh God, please tell me I didn’t say out loud.

‘Uhhhh….I…um…’

Mr. Klein waited patiently as I tried to think of a way to explain why a 25 year old woman was quoting Disney movies and somehow I didn’t think I could rationalize my love of singing cartoons to a man who used to kill people for a living.

My voice quavered as I whispered, ‘Nothing sir’

He paused another few seconds, gave a small frown, and continued.

‘Well, I called and talked to Tim from Special Solutions (our private investigator firm) and he actually agreed with Ms. Biel. Though celebrities are fairly easy to follow from a distance, to get the type of surveillance Ms Biel has requested, we’ll seem to need - how would you say it -  an inside man.’

I gave him a blank stare, mentally yelling, ‘And what the hell does this have to do with me?’

‘I relayed Tim’s message to Ms. Biel who informed me that the only people Mr. Timberlake allows in his private affairs, excuse the pun,  are his family, his bodyguard, and his personal assistant.’

‘Mmm-hmm…’

And then it slowly dawned on me….Nooooo, he can’t be asking what I think he’s asking. That’s ridiculous. Absolutely absurd.

Seeing my perplexed look, Mr. Klein went on, ‘Though Tim could have found a man to take the position of Mr. Timberlake’s bodyguard, there’s no guarantee that he would be with Mr. Timberlake at all times, as he sometimes goes out unaccompanied,  or know Mr. Timberlake’s day to day schedule.’

‘And seeing as how I don’t believe we can conjure up a family member who could testify to Mr. Timberlake’s alleged infidelity, that leaves the role of personal assistant. During our chat, Ms. Biel happened to mention Mr. Timberlake’s current personal assistant’s performance has started to…slip. And as he has a penchant for young, attractive women,’ he took a moment to leer at me before continuing ‘I thought perhaps we could come to an arrangement.’

I sat there like a slack-jawed idiot as I tried to wrap my mind around what the hell he just said. He wants me, Emma Elizabeth Porter, to work as a personal assistant to Justin Timberlake, the man I accidentally slept with by the way, in order to spy on him and make sure he doesn’t meet up with other bimbos in his free time….

…WHAT THE FUCK?!?! The old fart must have a couple of screws loose or gone senile or something!!!

I finally blinked, realizing Mr. Klein had been waiting in silence for my answer.

‘Um…sir. If I understand this correctly, you’re telling me you want me to spy on a client’s husband….’

He chuckled again.

That’s it. I’m calling Ghostbusters or Jesus or somebody cause I must be in the Twilight Zone. Does Ashton Kutcher punk non-famous people? Wait, scratch that, is Ashton Kutcher still alive to punk anybody?...Emma, stop asking irrelevant questions and focus!

‘No, Ms. Porter, I would never ask you to do such an immoral and illegal thing. What I am doing is offering you the opportunity to receive your regular salary in addition to that befitting a personal assistant. This offer would have added benefits such as access to a car to use for any necessary travel and any compensatory bonuses the Timberlakes would like to offer. All in exchange for a daily brief note depicting the day’s events and any…extracurricular activities Mr. Timberlake engaged in that day. None of these official notes, mind you.’

The thought of the car made me salivate. No more public transportation, no more creepy taxi drivers or crazy wankers on the back of the bus. I closed my eyes and imagined breathing in clean, cool air that didn’t smell like old bologna or diesel fuel.

And the extra pay….oh my god. No more insane neighbors who wake you up at 3 am to the sound of cracking whips (yeah, we think Ms. Plain Jane McKenzie next door has a secret S&M thing going on but we’re too afraid to ask). No more broken elevators. No more Mr. Mysterious 2B’s dog who wanders the hall, chews up our newspaper, and humps the dying potted palm tree near the elevator. And hot water, glorious hot water that you didn’t have to wait ten minutes for.

I licked my lips and opened my mouth to say ‘Hell yes’ but paused. Was all this worth my fairly clean conscience? I mean,  I’d have to see this man every day, lie to him every single day, and worse yet, I’d have to stab him in the back. All for some extra pay and a car? Come on, Em, your mom raised you better.

I closed my mouth and sighed.

‘I’m sorry Mr. Klein, but I don’t think I can accept that offer.’

For a millisecond he looked surprised like he was sure he was going to win. Then as soon as it was there, the surprise was gone, replaced with another false smile.

‘As you wish, Ms. Porter.’

I rose to leave but was stopped with a, ‘Please, a little more of your time.’

I sat back down, looking at him warily.

‘If you could process this for me, please.’

I looked down at the paper he sat in front of me.

Letter of Dismissal.

Uh oh, that meant someone was getting the ax. I read further.

Addressed to…Jung-Hye Park

….JENNIFER?!?! …Oh …hell …no, he was not about to blackmail me through my friends. That’s low. Even for him.

My voice dangerously low, I leaned in, ‘What exactly is this supposed to mean, Mr. Klein?’

‘Am I to understand you’re familiar with Ms. Park then?’

‘Yes sir, I am.’

‘In what respect, Ms. Porter?’

I took a deep breath to try to stop the red spreading into my vision.

‘She’s my roommate, sir.’

‘Well, then, I regret to inform you that you may be looking for another roommate soon. You see, Ms. Park has been engaging in some highly illegal activities in regards to this company and will most likely suffer some sort of legal repercussions.’

I froze for a full ten seconds.

‘What?’

‘As you may know, Ms. Park works for Mr. Newby in accounting and has access to certain financial documents and the company checkbook. Well, it seems that for some weeks now Ms. Park has forging checks for small amounts, 200, 400, up to 1000 dollars, then fixing the bank statements she passes on to Mr. Newby. Now, though I’m no criminal attorney, I can assure you that Ms. Park would surely face a number of crimes under the California State Penal Code should a call be made to the police.’

I looked up, tears in my eyes. Jennifer….a thief…a forger… a criminal. She could -  no she would go to jail. I could almost see her mother sobbing in the courtroom, hugging her stoic father and weeping younger siblings.

As tears slowly began to trickle down my cheeks, Mr. Klein passed me a handkerchief with that concerned father look on his face.

‘You know Ms. Porter, you could change all this.’

I sniffed, ‘What?’

‘As of yet, no call to the authorities has been made.’

Sniff. Dab. ‘What?’

‘If you wanted to reconsider your answer to the previous offered I mentioned, this whole incident could be…forgotten.’

Sniff. ‘What?’

That's right Em, you flaunt that college education....

He slid another sheet of paper next to Jennifer’s letter.

‘This is a binding legal document authorizing your acceptance of my previous offer and all it entails. If your position is revealed to Mr. Timberlake, this document will conveniently cease to exist and Ms. Park will be facing a lot more than unemployment.’

My tears immediately dried up. That bastard. That four-flushing, no good, sleazeball, cockroach son of a bitch. He had me by the balls and he knew it.

That….that….MOTHERFUCKER!!!

He smiled, a genuine smile this time as he knew he had the upper hand, and slid a Mont Blanc fountain pen across the table to me.

I stared at it and up a silent prayer.

 Please God, don’t judge me for this.

Then I signed over my soul to the devil.

He slid the paper back over the wide expanse of his desk before neatly placing it in a folder in his desk drawer.

‘Excellent. You’ll start tomorrow morning. Angela, my new secretary, will send you the details later on today.’

Body shaking with anger, I stood to leave.

‘Oh before you leave, please make sure to process that letter like I asked.’

I paused. ‘Excuse me?’

‘The letter of dismissal. Please take care of it before you go.’

My mouth dropped. ‘I thought you said nothing would happen. That Jennifer would be ok.’

He gave a small smirk of satisfaction.

‘I said no such thing. I said the authorities would not be called, but I said nothing of Ms. Park’s employment at this firm. I do not tolerate dishonesty, Ms. Porter. You’ll do good to remember that.’

My voice, quaking with fury, was barely above a whisper when I replied, ‘Yes, sir.’