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Still, she’d made it this far and she was messing up less.
She thought.
Asta: Congrats on lasting three weeks working for the Devil!
Dear Lord.
Faith: You can’t call a client the Devil.
Asta: You can when he actually is the Devil. We need to catch up for a drink sometime so you can give me the deets.
Faith didn’t feel right gossiping about Reuben, but at the same time, she longed to make a friend. She was so lonely living in that house with Eric and Cammie.
Faith: That would be fun.
Faith put her phone away as the office phone rang. Huh. That hardly ever rang.
“Hello, you’ve reached Jones Law. This is Faith speaking.”
There was silence on the other end. Well, other than some deep breathing.
“Hello? Oh no, is this one of those crank calls? I should tell you that I know how to dog whistle and it’s loud. It will hurt your ears.”
“I . . . I’m looking for Reuben.”
The voice was soft and feminine. She almost sounded scared.
“I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting. Can I take a message?”
“Oh . . . he doesn’t usually turn his phone off for meetings.”
How did this woman know that? Who was she?
“Can I ask who is calling?” She tried to keep the jealousy from her voice.
“This is Juliet. Can you tell him I called?”
Juliet. His sister?
“Wait! He told me that if you ever called, I’m to send your call straight through.” He was very adamant about that.
There were four people she was always to put through. Alejandro De Leon, his wife, Cat, his sister, Juliet, and his friend, Gwen.
“I don’t want to be a bother. He can call me back.”
“Are you sure? Are you okay? Do you need something? I mean, not that I can help . . . well, I could try. But likely not. I’m not very good at any of this stuff.”
There was silence.
Great. Way to embarrass yourself, Faith.
“Are you all right, Faith?” Juliet asked.
“I really don’t think I am.”
There was silence on the other end, so she kept talking.
“Truth is, I have no idea what I’m doing. Why did I think I could be a personal assistant? I’ve got no experience. The only thing I have going for me is that I’m stubborn and desperate. I even made him my famous banana bread and he spat it out! Can you believe that? I can’t operate Estelle. She just spits at me. I fed his pastrami to a lovely dog called Petey, and he had to buy me a water bottle because he’s worried I’m going to pass out on him.”
