"Nicky, stop playing dumb!" Ms. Hayes leaned forward on her desk, her voice sharp and impatient. "You're over a hundred million in debt. Every little bit helps. I'm trying to get you a role here—it's for your own good, understand?"
"No role is too small if it pays. Otherwise, why are you even livestreaming yourself moving boxes?"
She was ready to launch into a mix of threats and persuasion, but Nicky cut her off with a raised hand. "The address? Are you expecting me to guess the details? Spit it out. I'm taking notes."
Nicky sat up straight on the couch, phone lit up, fingers hovering over the keypad—the picture of focused readiness. Ms. Hayes stared, baffled, then glanced at Leo with a look that screamed, Is she for real?
Leo was just as confused. He gave a slight shrug. Nicky's priorities were clearly… different. First the cafeteria, now this. Was she really just in it for the food? He didn't dare say it out loud.
"You… you're actually agreeing to go?" Ms. Hayes couldn't believe it. The old Nicky, backed by Condé Nast, would've scoffed at a minor role like this—maybe even thrown a fit. Why was she being so cooperative?
"Why wouldn't I?" Nicky arched an eyebrow, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "There's free food and a chance to make money. Sounds good to me."
Getting a straight 'yes' should have been a win, but it only made Ms. Hayes more uneasy. Still, she relayed the details: "Seven tonight. The private dining room at The Suncrest Hotel. Leo, you're going with her. Keep an eye on her. No mistakes."
"Yes, Ms. Hayes," Leo replied promptly.
With the info secured, Nicky stood up and turned to Leo, all business. "Do you have a car?"
"Yes!" He straightened up instinctively, voice firm.
"Perfect." Nicky nodded, then fired off a rapid series of questions. "Does the company cover gas and mileage? Is this considered overtime? Do we get paid extra? And hey—it's been crazy hot in LA lately. Is there a heatwave allowance?"
"?!" Ms. Hayes was completely thrown. Her voice rose. "Nicky! Are you serious? You're a talent under contract! You expect reimbursement for that?"
"Do talents not eat? Do they not pay for gas?" Nicky shot back, utterly unapologetic. "Even a panhandler picks their weather. I'm supposed to go to a dinner in this heat for free?"
"Besides," she added, laying it on thick, "look at my situation. I can't afford to solve anything with money right now. Is asking for gas money really that outrageous?"
Ms. Hayes was speechless. Staring at Nicky's defiant face, she found herself at a loss for words. Finally, gritting her teeth, she opened her banking app and transferred $200 to Nicky. "There. That should cover your 'gas' and 'overtime.' No more requests!"
"Thanks, Ms. Hayes. So generous." Nicky accepted the transfer instantly, beaming. She immediately turned and pulled Leo out of the office.
The door clicked shut behind them. Ms. Hayes stared blankly at her phone screen. Why had she just given Nicky money? She was supposed to be giving the orders, not subsidizing her…
Outside, Nicky, looking triumphant, promptly sent Leo $100 via transfer. Leo looked at the notification, confused. "What's this for…?"
"Gas and your trouble," Nicky said, clapping him on the shoulder. "It's enough, right?"
Leo quickly shook his head. Part of him feared she'd take it back if he complained. Adjusting his glasses, he watched Nicky stride ahead. She really has changed, he mused silently. Can being in debt really alter someone's personality this much?
In the car, Nicky relaxed into the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone and planning for the evening. They'd missed the worst of the traffic, and forty minutes later, Leo pulled up smoothly outside The Suncrest Hotel.
"Nicky, shall we go in together?" Leo unfastened his seatbelt and turned to her.
"You go ahead. It's still early. I'll catch up," Nicky said, flinging the car door open. Before Leo could ask more, she was already hurrying away.
Leo sighed, heading off to park, assuming she'd gone to find a place to change—she was, after all, still wearing her delivery gear, hardly appropriate for a high-end hotel dinner. He didn't overthink it and proceeded to the private dining room.
Meanwhile, Nicky's TikTok livestream went live again. The camera showed her standing in a hotel kitchen's washing area, still in her gray work vest. She waved at the lens. "Hey everyone, it's Nicky—$137 million in debt, currently at The Suncrest Hotel… specifically, the kitchen."
The chat exploded:
[??? I thought she was going to a dinner? What's she doing in the kitchen? Suspicious.]
[Knew she couldn't just behave! She's totally clout-chasing off the hotel's name!]
[Are you blind? Look at the sinks and detergent behind her!]
Nicky glanced at the comments, her tone dripping with familiar sarcasm. "I'm not a fortune teller on a sidewalk; I don't just say what you want to hear. I'm here to pick up a temporary dishwashing gig—dinner hasn't started yet, so why not make some extra cash? Sounds smart, right?"
As she spoke, she tied an apron around her waist and held up a kitchen pass for the camera. "Already talked to the kitchen manager. Washing dishes for an hour, $50, and I get a meal. You guys keep guessing. I've got work to do."
The camera panned to a sink piled high with plates. Nicky rolled up her sleeves, grabbed a sponge, and started washing with practiced ease. The skeptical comments gradually died down, replaced by "LMAOOO" and "She's so real." No one had expected that Nicky's first move upon arriving for a high-profile dinner would be to pick up a dishwashing shift in the hotel kitchen.