Read Made in America for Free Online Page B

have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that.”
    “Actually,” I sip my cooler a little longer than normal, bracing myself for Tito’s reaction. “He offered me a job.”
    “Excuse me?” Frankie shouts from the couch.
    “A job?” Tito asks. “Okay, now I’m confused. I thought you went there for an apology.”
    “I did, and he gave me one. Then afterwards we got to talking, and it turns out he needs a new assistant.” I leave out the part about Grant firing the one he had directly on the spot. With me sitting right there.
    “An assistant? You’re not an assistant, you’re a waitress.” Tito says.
    “Hey, for seventy-five grand a year, I’ll be nearly whatever he wants me to be.”
    Frankie whistles, as does Tito. Those two were made for each other.
    “Seventy-five G’s? You’re shitting me, right?”
    I shake my head. “Nope. I already went to Drake’s and quit. Come Monday, I’ll be assistant to Mr. Grant Huffman. Financial mogul, and billionaire.”
    “Damn, girl. The Jefferson’s ain’t got nothing on you.”
    “You’sa movin’ on up!” Frankie shouts.
    Another laugh escapes me as I polish off my drink and set the bottle down. I guess I am moving on up. From waitress to assistant all in one day. If I didn’t know any better it sounds like something straight out of Pretty Woman , minus the hooking.
    But I’m no Julia Roberts, and Grant is certainly no Richard Gere. He’s about a thousand times more attractive, to be honest.
    “What’s the catch?” Tito asks, raising a cautious eyebrow. “You know there’s always a catch, right?”
    “No catch,” I proclaim. “It’s all business. I even told him as much.”
    “You did?”
    I nod. “Told him straight to his face that I wasn’t going to fuck him, so if that’s all he was hiring me for than he could forget it.”
    “Daaamn girl, that’s awesome, but you totally want to fuck him, you know that, right?”
    “Tito!” I reach over and slap him on the arm as hard as I can. He flinches away and shakes his head.
    “Mmmhmm, see, you’re already going on the defensive. That means you wanna fuck him.”
    “No, it doesn’t. It just means I don’t appreciate you crystal-balling my future. I know what’s best for me, and I’m telling you, I am not gonna fuck Grant Huffman.”
    “But you want to, right?”
    I reach over to slap him once more but he jerks away before I make contact.
    “I’m not saying you’re going to, I’m just saying you want to. Big difference. It’s okay. Hell, I want to fuck him.”
    “Hey!” Frankie shouts from the living room.
    “You shut it,” Tito chides. “You wanna fuck Idris Elba, so I get to wanna fuck someone too.”
    I bury my face in my hands, admitting defeat. Groaning, I tell him, “Yes, okay. I want to fuck him, but I’m not going to. I can’t. I’m going to be his assistant for crying out loud, how weird would that make it at work?”
    “Depending on how good you are at your job, it might make it better. Hell, you might even get a raise.”
    “I’m not a whore, Tito.”
    He places his hand overtop mine. “Honey,” he says. “Deep down, we’re all whores.”
    He stares at me for a moment before we both burst out laughing. Tears stream down my face and I hold my stomach, nearly collapsing to the floor. By the time I’m done, I feel about a million times better and proceed to relay to him the comments Grant told me about what he was thinking the first time he saw me, and how I told him what I was thinking the first time I saw him. Tito has a few choice words for that whole exchange, making me laugh about a dozen more times. By the time I’m ready to head to my room and leave these two love birds alone, my cheeks hurt and my stomach feels like it’s going to split open.
    Heading down the hall, Tito shouts, “You’re coming to our engagement party next Saturday, right?”
    “Coming? I’m your best man, Tito. I’ll be there with bells on.”
    I close the door and