Page 2 of The Grumpy Billionaire

But I’m pretty sure itisabout me—why else would they call me on a Sunday? That’s how badly they don’t want me to set foot in there?

Did they think I’d wreck the place or something?

* * *

I sitKelsey down that night on the red velvety couch that takes up half the living room and tell her the bad news.

She twirls her giant earring, long fingernails glinting in the light. If she thinks I’m a delusional liar, considering how much I gushed about my amazing new dream job, she doesn’t say.

“No, I get it,” she says. “Shit happens.” But I can tell she’s worried. She calls her friend Mia, who gets me lined up with a part-time gig delivering sandwiches dressed as a cat, of all things.

No way will it be enough to make rent, but it’s something.

I tell her not to worry. The great thing about New York is that there is no shortage of little advertising agencies who need somebody with my expertise in branding and all things video.

I network like a demon in the days that follow. I sit at a busy Starbucks going gonzo on LinkedIn. I reach out to contacts of contacts.

Things get even more bizarre after that when a few jobs materialize and seem like sure things only to vanish, and nobody will tell me why. Like it’s this state secret!

Around week two, I start going for jobs I’m ridiculously overqualified for, and the same stuff happens.

What’s going on?

Do I share a Social Security number with a serial killer? Is my name attached to a “Let’s bring back cannibalism!” manifesto on the dark web?

Mom is unhelpful on the phone that Friday. “You can always move back and take your old room. Actually, Crafter City has a help-wanted sign up.”

“Seriously? That’s where you think I’m headed? Back to my old room?”

“Honey. Did you not just tell me you can’t land a job where you are?”

“It’s under control, Mom.”

I hear the telltale sigh that says Mom is not convinced.

No matter what I do out in the world, I can never live down the irresponsible baby-of-the-family brand that I earned as a girl, where I’m completely inept and clueless and everybody has to tell me what to do.

My greatest branding fail of all. And I’m in the branding business!

“What about Hugo?” she says. “Hugo could get you a job where he works. It’s the perfect idea!”

They keep trying to get Hugo involved. Hugo, my older brother Charlie’s best friend.

“Oh my god, no, Mom! Remember how I asked you not to tell Hugo to write that confidential letter of recommendation for me? Because I had my own people to write them? Remember how I forbade you?”

“Uh, yes.”

“That applies doubly here. Do not tell Hugo! Or Charlie!”

“Why not?”

I groan. I can only imagine the way Charlie would describe my predicament to Hugo.

Stella’s big New York job fell through, if there even was one. You know how Stella is.

“Hugo would love to help you,” Mom says.

“No, Hugo would hate to help me. I’d rather sell a kidney than involve Hugo. Plus every drop of my plasma. And an eyeball!”

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