"You want to do WHAT?"
Talia's voice pitched so high it could probably shatter their cheap wine glasses. She stared at Ava like she'd just announced plans to rob a bank. Which, honestly, might have been less shocking than what Ava had actually suggested.
"It's not that crazy-"
"Not that crazy?" Talia shot up from the couch, pacing their tiny living room like a caged tiger. "Ava, you want to pretend to be a man to get a job working for some psycho CEO who apparently eats assistants for breakfast. That's not 'not crazy' - that's completely, utterly, certifiably insane!"
Ava had expected this reaction. She'd spent twenty minutes in the shower rehearsing this conversation, and it was going exactly as badly as she'd imagined.
"Look, I know how it sounds-"
"Do you? Because it sounds like identity fraud. It sounds like you could end up in jail. It sounds like you've finally cracked under the pressure and lost your damn mind."
"Have I?" Ava stood up, matching Talia's energy. "Have I lost my mind, or have I finally found a solution? We have twenty-seven days, Talia. Twenty-seven days before we're on the street. I've applied to forty-eight jobs in three days and gotten rejected by every single one. What exactly do you suggest I do instead?"
"Not commit fraud!"
"It's not fraud, it's... creative interpretation."
Talia stopped pacing and stared at her. "Creative interpretation? Ava, listen to yourself. You're talking about lying about your gender to work for a man who's apparently impossible to please. What happens when he finds out? What happens when you can't keep up the act?"
"I won't get found out."
"How can you possibly know that?"
Ava grabbed Talia's hands, forcing her to sit back down. "Because I've been thinking about this all day. Look at me, Tal. Really look at me."
Reluctantly, Talia did. Ava had always been androgynous - tall for a woman, angular features, small chest, narrow hips. With her hair pulled back severely, wearing one of Talia's oversized hoodies, she could already pass for a young man if you didn't look too closely.
"I can do this," Ava said quietly. "I know I can. And it's fifty thousand dollars, Talia. Fifty thousand. That's more than we'd make together in a year and a half."
"Money isn't worth going to prison for."
"What prison? The worst that happens is I get fired. Big deal - I'm already unemployed."
Talia pulled her hands free, running them through her hair. "The worst that happens is you get caught, get blacklisted from every decent job in Chicago, and end up in legal trouble that follows you for the rest of your life."
"And the best that happens is I save us both."
They stared at each other across their coffee table, the eviction notice still lying there between them like a pink accusation. Outside, snow continued to fall, each flake a reminder of how cold January would be on the streets.
"There has to be another way," Talia said finally, but her voice had lost some of its conviction.
"What way? I've tried everything else. I've applied everywhere, I've networked, I've begged. Nothing works. This is the only door that's opened, and I'm not going to let it close because I'm too scared to walk through it."
"You should be scared. This is scary."
"You know what's scarier? Watching you work yourself to death trying to support both of us. Seeing you eat ramen for dinner again because you spent your grocery money on my job interview clothes. Being twenty-four years old and knowing that I'm the reason my best friend can't save money for her future."
Talia's eyes filled with tears. "You're not a burden, Ava. You're my family."
"Then let me act like family. Let me be the one who fixes this instead of the one who breaks everything."
They sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of their situation settling around them like fog. Finally, Talia spoke.
"How would it even work? You can't just show up and hope for the best."
Ava's heart leaped. That wasn't a no. That was Talia's problem-solving voice, the same tone she used when helping her students work through difficult art projects.
"I've been researching all day," Ava said, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. "There are videos on YouTube about masculine body language, voice coaching, even how to dress. I've been practicing walking differently, sitting differently. Watch."
She stood up and transformed herself, broadening her shoulders, lengthening her stride, taking up more space. When she sat back down, her legs were spread wider, her posture more assertive.
"That's... actually not terrible," Talia admitted grudgingly.
"My voice is naturally low. I just need to speak from my chest instead of my throat, avoid uptalk, cut out the filler words." Ava demonstrated, her voice dropping half an octave. "I can do this, Talia."
"What about... you know." Talia gestured vaguely at Ava's chest.
"Sports bras. Binding. Loose-fitting shirts. It's not like I'm exactly busty to begin with."
Talia was quiet again, and Ava could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Finally, she sighed.
"You're really doing this?"
"Yes - and nothing you say will change that."
"God help us both." Talia stood up, walking to their tiny closet. "If we're doing this, we're doing it right. You're going to need a complete makeover, and you're definitely going to need better clothes than anything we have here."
Ava's eyes widened. "You'll help me?"
"I'll help you." Talia turned back to face her, expression serious. "But we do this smart. We research everything, we practice everything, and at the first sign that this is going sideways, you quit. Promise me."
"I promise."
"And you tell me everything. Every day, every interaction, every close call. I'm not going to be able to sleep anyway - at least let me worry with full information."
"Deal."
Talia shook her head, but she was almost smiling. "I can't believe I'm about to help my best friend commit fraud."
"Identity exploration," Ava corrected.
"Right. Identity exploration." Talia grabbed her laptop. "Come on, Evan. Let's figure out how to make you into a man."
*****
The next morning, they stood outside Tony's Barbershop on West Division, both of them nervous as hell.
"Last chance to back out," Talia said.
"Not happening."
"Your hair is really pretty, you know. I've always been jealous of how it catches the light."
"It'll grow back."
"What if this doesn't work? What if-"
"Talia." Ava grabbed her friend's hand. "Trust me. For once in my life, let me be the one with the plan."
The barber shop smelled like aftershave and broken dreams.
Tony was the third barber they'd tried that morning - the first two had taken one look at Ava's request and politely suggested she visit a salon instead.
Tony, bless his cigarette-stained soul, just shrugged and picked up his scissors.
"You sure about this, sweetheart? That's some beautiful hair you got there."
"I'm sure." Ava's voice came out steadier than she felt. "Short. Professional. Like you'd cut for a businessman."
The first snip was the loudest sound she'd ever heard.
Chunks of chestnut hair fell to the floor around her feet like autumn leaves, each cut taking away another piece of who she used to be. Tony worked with surprising skill, his weathered hands gentle as he shaped what remained into something sharp and masculine.
In the mirror, Talia watched with wide eyes, one hand pressed to her mouth.
"There," Tony said finally, stepping back to admire his work. "What do you think?"
Ava stared at the stranger in the mirror.
The haircut changed everything - made her jawline look stronger, her cheekbones sharper. With the right clothes, the right attitude...
"Perfect," she whispered.
Two hours later, they stood in the fitting room at Goodwill, surrounded by discarded suits and mounting panic.
"This one's too big in the shoulders," Talia said, holding up a gray jacket.
"This one makes me look like I'm playing dress-up," Ava replied, struggling with a navy blazer that clearly wasn't meant for her frame.
They'd been at this for an hour, and Ava was starting to understand why men complained about shopping. Nothing fit right. Everything was cut for broader shoulders, narrower hips, longer torsos.
"Here." Talia handed her a dark navy suit that looked like it might have been expensive once. "Try this."
The suit was too big in some places, too small in others, but it would have to do.
They found a white dress shirt, a conservative tie, and a pair of black dress shoes that pinched Ava's feet but looked professional.
In the store's bathroom, Ava practiced walking. Longer strides, less hip movement, shoulders back.
She'd spent the morning watching YouTube videos on masculine body language, taking notes like she was cramming for the most important exam of her life.
Because she was.
"How do I look?" she asked, stepping out of the stall.
Talia circled her slowly, making small adjustments. "Different. Really different. If I didn't know it was you..."
"Good different or weird different?"
"Convincing different." Talia stepped back, studying her with artist's eyes. "You need to work on your posture a bit more - men take up more space than women. And maybe speak from your chest instead of your throat."
Ava practiced both, rolling her shoulders back, dropping her voice. "How's this?"
"Better. Much better." Talia's expression was a mix of pride and terror. "I can't believe this is actually working."
"It's working because you're helping me. I couldn't do this without you, Tal."
"Yes, you could. But I'm glad you don't have to."
They took the bus downtown, Ava practicing her masculine walk in the aisle, earning strange looks from other passengers.
The Cross Industries building was a monument to intimidation - sixty floors of glass and steel that scraped the Chicago sky.
"That's it," Ava said, staring up at the imposing structure.
"Jesus. It looks like the Death Star had a baby with a corporate lawyer."
Despite her nerves, Ava laughed. "Thanks for coming with me."
"I'm not coming up, though. This part you have to do alone."
"I know."
They stood on the sidewalk, both of them looking up at the building that represented either salvation or disaster, depending on how the next hour went.
"You got this," Talia said finally. "You're Evan Carter. You're confident. You're qualified. You're definitely not my best friend having a complete mental breakdown."
"Right. I'm Evan." Ava adjusted the tie that felt like a noose.
Her mind raced with sudden panic. What if they asked for references? Background checks? What if there were forms to fill out with legal names and social security numbers?
She'd cross those bridges when she came to them. She had to.
"Wish me luck."
"You don't need luck. You've got something better - desperation and a really good suit."
The lobby was all marble and intimidation, filled with people in expensive suits who looked like they belonged there.
Ava - Evan - walked to the reception desk, trying to channel every confident man she'd ever seen in movies.
"Evan Carter," she told the receptionist, proud that her voice didn't crack. "I have an interview with Mr. Cross."
The woman barely looked up from her computer. "Fifty-seventh floor. Sarah will meet you at the elevator."
The elevator ride felt like ascending to heaven. Or hell. The jury was still out.
Sarah turned out to be a woman in her forties with kind eyes and the look of someone who'd seen everything twice.
She led Evan down a hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered breathtaking views of the city.
"First time meeting Mr. Cross?" Sarah asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Word of advice - be direct. He hates small talk and he'll see right through any BS you try to feed him. Also, don't take anything personally. He's not trying to be cruel, he's just... efficient."
They stopped outside a door marked with a simple nameplate: Damon Cross, CEO.
"Good luck," Sarah said, and somehow it sounded like a prayer.
Ava - Evan - knocked twice and waited for the gravelly "Come in."
The office was as imposing as its owner. Massive windows, minimalist furniture, everything in shades of black and gray.
And behind the enormous desk sat Damon Cross, even more intimidating in person than in his photos.
He didn't look up immediately, finishing whatever he was reading with the kind of focus that made Ava want to apologize for breathing too loudly.
When he finally raised his eyes, the impact was immediate and unsettling.
Steel gray. Sharp. Calculating. Like he was taking inventory of every lie she'd ever told.
"Evan Carter," he said, not a question.
"Yes, sir." Ava stepped forward, extending her hand.
His handshake was firm, brief, and left her skin tingling in a way that had nothing to do with nerves.
"Sit."
She sat.
"Tell me why you want this job."
Straight to the point, just like Sarah had warned.
Ava had prepared for this question, but sitting under the weight of his attention, her carefully rehearsed answer evaporated.
"Because I need it," she said instead, the honest truth falling out before she could stop it.
One dark eyebrow rose slightly. "Elaborate."
"I'm good at what I do, Mr. Cross. I learn fast, I work hard, and I don't quit when things get difficult. Your previous assistants might not have lasted, but that's because they probably expected the job to be easy. I don't expect easy. I expect to earn every dollar you pay me."
"And what makes you think you can handle what they couldn't?"
"Because failing isn't an option for me. When you have nothing to fall back on, you don't fall back. You figure it out or you drown."
Something flickered in his expression - surprise, maybe, or recognition.
"You have previous assistant experience?"
"No, sir. But I've got something better - I've got desperation and intelligence. That combination will take you further than a resume full of pretty accomplishments."
He leaned back in his chair, studying her with those unsettling eyes.
"The hours are long. The work is demanding. I don't repeat instructions, I don't accept excuses, and I don't tolerate incompetence. Most people last less than a month."
"Most people aren't me."
"What makes you so special, Mr. Carter?"
The question hung in the air between them, loaded with challenge.
Ava thought about the eviction notice, about Talia's worried face, about all the doors that had been slammed in her face over the past three months.
"I'm not special," she said quietly. "I'm just willing to do whatever it takes to succeed. And right now, Mr. Cross, you're my whatever it takes."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft tick of the clock on his desk.
Damon Cross's fingers drummed once against the leather desktop, a barely perceptible movement that somehow felt significant.
"You start Monday," he said finally. "Seven AM sharp. Sarah will handle the paperwork and give you the building access codes. Your probationary period is thirty days. Mess up once, and you're gone. Understood?"
Ava's heart stopped, then started again at double speed. "Understood."
Paperwork. Her stomach clenched. She'd have to figure out how to navigate that minefield without getting caught.
"Good. Any questions?"
"Just one." She stood, smoothing down her ill-fitting jacket. "Why did you hire me?"
For the first time during the interview, something that might have been a smile ghosted across his features.
"Because you're the first person who's sat in that chair and told me the truth instead of what you thought I wanted to hear."
He was already looking back at his papers, dismissing her. "Don't make me regret it, Mr. Carter."
Ava made it all the way to the elevator before her knees gave out.
She slumped against the wall, breathing hard, the magnitude of what she'd just done crashing over her like a wave.
She'd gotten the job.
She'd actually gotten the job.
Talia was waiting in the lobby, pretending to read a magazine but clearly watching the elevators like a hawk.
The moment she saw Ava, she stood up.
"Well?"
"I got it."
"You got it?"
"I got it."
Talia grabbed her in a hug so fierce it nearly knocked them both over. "I can't believe it. I can't believe you actually did it."
"I can't either."
They held each other in the middle of the intimidating lobby, two young women who'd just pulled off the impossible.
Around them, business continued as usual, but for them, everything had changed.
"Come on," Talia said finally. "Let's get out of here before someone realizes you're not supposed to exist."
They walked out into the Chicago afternoon, the December wind cutting through their coats but neither of them caring.
Ava caught a glimpse of her reflection in the building's windows - short hair, sharp suit, determined expression.
Hello, Evan Carter.
Goodbye, Ava.
At least for now.