The Assistants by Camille Perri

Author:Camille Perri
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2016-04-06T16:48:04+00:00

16

I HAVE A CONFESSION to make. No, not that one. It’s that my favorite part of sex is after it’s over. Which isn’t to say I don’t enjoy the act itself, because I do, very much—but what I really love is the holding afterward, the lounging, the supreme relaxation of That went well.

Sex with Kevin went mind-blowingly well, but it was our postcoital lazing that was the clincher for me. We spent all of Sunday sprawled in his bed in our underwear, laughing, watching videos on his computer, and occasionally having more sex. And the best part: we ordered from Seamless for every meal. Could I ask for anything more?

But before work on Monday morning, some of the anxiety was already creeping its way back in. To combat it, I bought Robert a honey-glazed doughnut from the Peter Pan bakery and placed it on his desk. Robert loved Peter Pan doughnuts. How in the world did Robert Barlow ever eat a hand-rolled doughnut from a tiny Polish bakery in Greenpoint, Brooklyn? you might ask? Because I was stupid enough to bring him one once. I should have known such a mindless act of kindness would lead to weekly text messages at six a.m. and my having to leave my apartment a half hour early to get to Greenpoint before work in order to deliver him this one random doughnut.

Emily once told me a story about how she knew a guy had cheated on her when he surprised her with a pink-frosted cupcake from Crumbs. The Cupcake of Guilt, she called it. I figured now the least I could do was bring my victim a Doughnut of Guilt.

But Robert was having a good day. Something in the islands had gone well, giving him an extra jump to his step, and a political scandal involving a sext had broken overnight, which brought him great joy. This was how I liked Robert best, winning and un-scary, jetting around the office with the energy of a man half his age. (Faster than a scalded cat. Busy as a hound in flea season.) Just watching him work, you knew this was a man doing exactly what he was born to do. Robert loved the game. He loved the fight.

His wife called around noon, and even though he was in with Glen Wiles, I knew to interrupt him. The one piece of advice I’d received from Robert’s previous assistant, a waif of a woman named Jeannie who lasted only three weeks, was: “Be really nice to Avery and, no matter what, always put her calls through.”

Jeannie apparently had not.

“He’s in a meeting with Glen, but I’ll get him out for you,” I told Avery Barlow. “I’m sure he’d rather be talking to you.”

She chuckled.

“I heard he took you in three straight sets last time you played,” I added.

She chuckled again. “He hasn’t stopped bragging about that all week. I’ll tell you it was worth it, losing to him so badly, just to have him in such a good mood for a change.

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