Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
That was his parting shot, because after he said it, he turned, opened the door, walked through it and out of my studio.
So when I muttered my irate, “Bye, bye, bossman,” he wasn’t around to hear it.
CHAPTER 2
STEP ASIDE
Elsa
My phone was off the hook pinging.
And it wasn’t my work one. It was my personal one.
I was on the M, heading to an address Hale Wheeler’s assistant, Brandi, sent me that was where we’d be relocating while they sorted out security and HVAC at the warehouse.
I supposed it should come as no surprise someone of Hale’s stature could secure space in Manhattan in a little over twenty-four hours.
Even so, it was a surprise.
Now I was on my way there, considering Brandi had also told me my current accommodation would be closed starting Monday, and my friends, who knew I was interviewing Hale the next day, were deciding how I’d look when I did it.
The red Prada. That was Felicity.
Too harsh. The flowy Zimmerman print. It’s her brand. That was Carole.
Then immediately more from Carole. Hair up.
NO! From Fliss. Hair down! And I’m doing it so shut up about it.
Half and half. Carole haggled.
I’ll consider it. Fliss replied.
I let them duke it out, even though I wasn’t wearing the Zimmerman. It was very much my brand, but it was far too flirty and girlie and feminine for a sit down with Hale Wheeler.
I was going to wear the structured Valentino. It had ruffles at the sleeves and hem, and a bow belt, so the femininity of it fit my brand, but there was nothing flirty about it (okay, there was a little bit of flirt to it, but not like the Zimmerman).
And I was going to have a chignon at my nape, no matter how Fliss would argue against it. I was going to look put together and professional, not like I was out on a date.
The train arrived at my stop, and I hustled out and up to street level, where I then headed toward Rockefeller Center.
My phone kept going, in fact, both of them did, and I ignored them, walking the streets of Manhattan, feeling like I’d felt all my life when I was there.
This was where I was meant to be.
Make no mistake, I was a proud Brooklyn girl.
I was also an ambitious one.
I dressed the part in a camel, sleeveless, mock-turtleneck sweater dress, a brown statement belt cinching my waist, camel trench hanging from my shoulders (not with my arms in), and chocolate-brown suede high-heeled boots. Gold accents, not many (one didn’t over-accessorize when they were riding the subway). Last, a slouchy, suede tote.
I had my Celine Triomphe sunglasses on my nose and the pep in my step that always seemed to happen when I hit Manhattan.
And I was determined to be in a good mood.
I had a number of reasons to be so.
I’d told my agent about the upcoming exclusive with Hale, and she was over the moon. Further, she confirmed my thoughts about how this would positively affect negotiations, and we both knew after I nailed Hale (in an interview that was…ahem), more opportunities would come.
And it might be a pain in the neck to get there, considering I could walk to my current studio from home, but it wouldn’t stink to go into Manhattan every day to work, even if it was only for a week.
No, it wouldn’t.
It’d be awesome.
I hadn’t yet told Mom or Dad about the interview. I wanted to throw that tidbit out at dinner, when Oskar was bragging about some big case he was on, his wife Anoushka was manifestly avoiding carbs while explaining her complicated schedule of leaving their children to their nanny and going to yoga classes, and my sister was doing everything in worship save going down on her surgeon boyfriend whose god complex made Kanye West look humble.
Oh, by the way, I’d say, I just completed a one-on-one, exclusive interview with Hale Wheeler.
I could see it now.
Dad would be proud.
Oskar would be derisive, but this would hide his fury that I’d managed to one-up him for once.
Anoushka would ask if I could introduce her to Hale.
Mom would inquire if Hale asked me out on a date.
Emilie would be green with envy.
A mixed bag.
I’d take it.
It was on this thought I was closing in on the address Brandi gave me, which was near 30 Rock, when a shiny black Escalade came to a stop and Hale exited the backseat.
He instantly caused a stir, partly because he was famous, mostly because he was glorious. Even if he didn’t have piles of money, people would gawk, that was how gorgeous he was, how confident, how magnetic.
I stopped dead on the sidewalk.
“Watch it, lady,” some man groused as he sidestepped me. “Newsflash, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
Ah, New York.
How I loved thee.