Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 130022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“Not defending him, he fucked up. But his life is Bernice. I don’t know what was in his head then, but I know men, not only because I am one, but because I’ve dated lots of them, and shit goes through our heads. Again, no excuse, but what-might-have-beens are shiny and distracting, and it isn’t okay that Cornell got distracted. But he fessed up immediately and he was a mess when things got rocky in a way he thought he might not ever smooth them out. Fortunately, Bernice didn’t let Bea’s drivel penetrate, or he wouldn’t have, and we all wouldn’t now have the beauty that is Anton.”
I felt something unpleasant skate over my skin. “And is that what you think happened to me and Remy? I let Bea’s drivel penetrate?”
“I think everyone who understands these things knows there are two preeminent architects of our age. Prentice Cameron in Scotland, and Remy Gastineau in Phoenix. And I think one of the people who knows that is Remy. I think his ego got the better of him, and when you started to compete in your own field with his success in his, he started acting like an ass. And I think that Bea was in fits of fucking glee that he did, and she pounced on that faster than you can say, ‘we need a marriage counselor.’”
I stared in his eyes and whispered, “That’s what I think too.”
He whirled to the desk, fell to his forearms and whispered back, “Oh God, gurl, really?”
“I’ve let him go, Noel.”
His face fell. “Oh God, gurl. Really?”
“It’s time. High time. Past time. It’s just…” I nodded once, decisively, “time.”
“Because of that Myrna.”
I shook my head. “It’s just time.”
“Manon hates her, baby,” Noel said.
Important note: Noel was tight with all my kids too.
Oh hell.
I had to spill.
“They’ve broken up. She’s moving out.”
Noel brightened.
“We’re over, honey. Don’t get excited,” I said swiftly. “It’s done. He’s moved on. Now, I need to too.”
“Well, I suppose there are silver linings here, what with you realizing you weren’t really over him and Bea got you in her evil clutches. But this still makes me sad.”
“Bea isn’t that bad.”
He twitched his head so he was looking at me out the sides of his eyes.
“Is she?” I asked hesitantly.
“I wasn’t around when she was brought into your crew, but since I met her, I’ve been fighting asking if I could hand her a piece of coal so she could shove it up her ass and make me a ten-second diamond. And trust me, I know you care about me. I know I’m family to you. I also know you’re my employer. So understand, I know me talking trash about a friend is not cool in the best of circumstances, and you having future payments of my mortgage in your hands, you understand the risks I’m taking in sharing this opinion.”
“And Bernice?”
“I’ll let Bernice share Bernice’s take during Cock and Snacktails.”
I drummed my signature “wildfire red,” long, rounded nails on my raven-black desk blotter and stared at my pearl-gray walls.
“How about we get back to work,” Noel suggested.
I stopped drumming and took a sip of my latte before I answered, “Yes. Let’s.”
He started walking the long walk to his office that was outside my office.
But I stopped him when I called, “Did you really order lobster rolls?”
Noel didn’t break stride or even look back when he answered, “Those are Remy’s favorite, darling.”
Well then.
Whatever.
He closed the door behind himself, and I glanced around.
When I’d decided to expand the brand into exclusive subscription boxes and online sales of curated pieces, I also decided that brand needed a headquarters.
So I left my home office and took this space between Thomas and McDowell, close to the Botanical Gardens, that had been abandoned during the recession before it had ever gotten the chance to be anything.
And in it, among other things, was my office. Long, starting with an area that looked like a living room, complete with flat screen TV, and ending with my white desk in front of my built-in covered in a sheen reminiscent of mother-of-pearl.
The room had recessed ceilings, lit exquisitely. Two crystal chandeliers dripping from carved installations. A couch upholstered in gray silk with various toss pillows covered in white, black or gray. There were mirrors. There were black-shaded, crystal-bottomed lamps. There were fabulous leather armchairs. There were black-framed, black-and-white photos of me with clients or sitting beside runways.
Even if the building was surrounded by the city but felt like it was in the middle of nowhere, my office was elegant, glamorous, luxurious, and the like of which Fiona Remington (now a good friend), or Helena Abraham (another client), or Chloe Pierce (daughter of perhaps the most famous actor in the world, Imogen Swan), would not walk in, stutter step and think, “What on earth?”