Read First Stop, New York for Free Online Page B

“So you’re his little secret agent. Are you getting combat pay?”
    “I don’t think I’m getting any pay.”
    “That was a joke, dear.”
    “God, I’m such a dolt sometimes. What should I do, Uncle Ross?”
    “Quit, of course.”
    Corliss sat bolt upright in her lounge chair. The idea filled her with terror.
    “If you’re so miserable, why not? I can find you another job faster than Lindsay Lohan can leave rehab.”
    “But—but—”
    “No buts, Corliss. Be a big girl, gather your courage, call Max, and quit.”
    “But I don’t
have
any courage!”
    Uncle Ross ignored this. “You have his number, right?”
    “Private line and everything, yeah.”
    “So then it’s simple.
Call the man
.”
    The idea paralyzed Corliss with fear. She couldn’t just quit on Max the first day—she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
No, I finished up my credits early because I persevere. I’ll just take the internship one day at a time and do a thorough evaluation of my feelings and goals every evening. If at the end of every day I’m a basket case—according to the American Psychiatric Association’s criteria—then eventually I’ll have to quit.
She sighed and smiled, proud of herself for sorting through her fear in a flash.
    Just then her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and her fear returned.
    “Oh, God…”
    “What is it, Corliss?”
    “It’s
him
.”
    “Jurgen? But why would he be calling
you
?”
    “Not Jurgen, Uncle Ross…Max Marx!”
    “Sorry—I’ve got Jurgen on the brain. Well, this is excellent timing. Answer the call and tender your resignation. Tomorrow I can get you an internship on
Grey’s Anatomy
.”
    Corliss froze. Uncle Ross snatched the phone from her and connected the call.
    “Don’t—!”
    “Corliss Meyers’s line. Whom may I say is calling? Thank you, Mr. Marx. Please hold.” Uncle Ross winked at Corliss and made a
boop
sound before extending the phone to her. Corliss felt her forehead break out in red polka dots. She took thephone and put it to her ear, praying for the bravery she’d need.
    “Hello, Max.” She listened, nodded, and then listened some more.
    “What’s he saying?” whispered Uncle Ross.
    She shook her head at her uncle and then said, “Okay, Max. Bye.” She disconnected and hung her head.
    “Couldn’t bring yourself to do it? Poor dear. You’re too sensitive. How on earth can we be related?”
    “It gets worse. Those two actors I’m supposed to spy on? Max says they’re at a restaurant on the beach.”
    “How romantic!”
    “One of his
other
assistants overheard them discussing their dinner plans and mentioned it to Max!”
    “Intrigue!”
    “Max wants me to go there and break it up. He says he e-mailed me the rewrite for tomorrow, and he wants me to print it out and hand-deliver it to them and tell them to go home—separately—to study it. He also said in the future he hopes I can do this kind of scheming myself!”
    “I like his mind.”
    “This is like junior year all over again! People talking behind your back, lies on top of more lies—how far have I sunk in one day? Can I use your office printer?”
    “Of course you may. Buck up, Corliss. You can always try quitting tomorrow.” Uncle Ross kissed her head and sauntered inside. “If you want dinner, I’m having the staff whip up lamb kabobs with a chutney demi-glace.”
    “No, thanks,” Corliss said, with a heavy heart. “I better print out those rewrites and head to the beach…”
    Musso & Frank Grill, Hollywood—6:27 P.M.
    Rocco was tearing mercilessly into an eighteen-ounce sirloin. The hunk of meat was slathered in butter and soaking in a puddle of bloodred juices. JB, sitting across from him, stared at the carnivorous attack and felt queasy.
    “Why didn’t you mention you were a vegetarian?” asked Rocco.
    “Why make waves?”
    “Does this bother you?” Rocco said, holding up his fork. Speared on the end of it was a hunk of meat so rare, it looked almost