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)
I then went to our new mail room, being admitted again due to face recognition (though, I still had all three ways to access that space). The new super hadn’t been installed yet. His or her studio wasn’t finished. But the mail room was large, clean, organized and in use.
As was the foyer.
The refurbishment of that area came in the form of sleek tile, sleeker lighting and potted plants in glossy planters. There were also two modern chairs sitting side by side with a slender table between them, all of which seemed unnecessary, but proved awesome when you wanted somewhere to set something you were carrying. Or there was no reason someone meeting you needed to take the time to come up to your apartment, they could wait for you and do it in warm comfort.
I got in the new elevator with its bright light that screamed safety and mix of brushed stainless steel and wood interior that let me out on my floor that was a continuation of the sleek vestibule with new lighting that was subdued and attractive and also now had a smart carpet runner that did amazing things to cut down on noise.
When I let myself into my apartment and dumped my tote, I also dumped my ass in my cranberry chair, where Hale had sat, and I stared at my area rug.
I had deals. I had a new staff member, Melissa, who did research. I’d bought a four-person work pod so Chuck, Zoey and Mel had their own space, and there was one to grow on, and that growth would happen soon, since I was hiring a booker. We’d begun to turn the conference room into a green room. And I’d picked office furniture for myself, and a fabulous couch, end tables, lamps and an area rug for the reception space which I was scared to commit to, because they were pricey, but I was ready to hit go on it because Hale Wheeler and Luna Bevin weren’t the only interviews I’d done that tore the lid off my followers. A number that was now at over seventy million.
In a few short months, I was living the dream.
All because of one man.
One man who came into, swept through, then walked out of my life in the expanse of less a week.
So yes.
It happened, and I couldn’t stop it.
I sat in my cranberry chair and wept.
Two weeks later…
“This has to be a mistake,” I muttered to myself, staring down at the heavy, embossed cardstock in my hand that formally invited me, as a guest, to the first annual Blazing the Trail event in aid of the programs of the non-profit organization, Trail Blazer.
Hale’s non-profit organization.
It was a new charity event for the NYC calendar as hosted by Imogen Swan, Mika Stowe and Nora Ellington.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t heard of the event, I had. And the old Elsa would be outside it, hoping to get a quick interview or comment from someone or multiple someones as they walked in.
I didn’t need to do that anymore, but Zoey and Chuck were slated to be there to take video and stills.
I woke my laptop, went to Chrome, tapped in the search, then clicked on the event’s website.
The lowest ticket price was five hundred dollars. The highest ticket price was one of two tables up for offer that cost half a million dollars.
The event was sold out.
I picked up the phone and called the number on the invitation.
“Trail Blazer, this is Krista, may I help you?”
“Yes, this is Elsa Cohen. I just received an invitation to your event in New York.”
“Yes?”
“I’m not sure I understand. I’ve checked your website. The event is sold out.”
“You’re comped. Press.”
I sat silent.
“Do you have any other questions?” she asked.
“Was it Hale Wheeler who put me on the press list?”
“No, it was Rix. Do you want to talk to him?”
“Rix?”
“Yes. You’re at his table.”
Rix. John Hendrix.
Hale hadn’t wanted me to come.
A man I’d never met, but once did a favor for, did.
“Are you RSVPing in the affirmative?” she asked.
No! My mind screamed.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Great. I might see you there. Take care.”
And then she disconnected.
Six weeks later…
“I still think the green,” Carole said.
“Hell no, it has to be the black, and I’m not saying that because I’ve done her hair and makeup to work with that dress and the car is going to be here in ten minutes so we don’t have time for a switch up,” Fliss returned.
I stood in my tiny bedroom staring at myself in the full-length mirror Fliss had set up.
The dress was risky.
Sheer black with sparkles all over it, it had a high neck, shoulder pads, long sleeves and a generous skirt that fell in beautiful folds straight to the floor with a small train at the back
The risky part about it was that the bodice was lined, the sleeves weren’t…and neither was the skirt. You could see my high-waisted black underwear. The denier level of the sheer was high, but you could still see through it.