Mr. Big Shot Read Online R.S. Grey

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
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“He said he was going to try,” I reply with a smile. “He’s having dinner with his parents first.”

Before they can prod any further about the Jasper situation, a photographer dressed like a mime motions for us to get close for a picture. Just as he snaps it and my eyes adjust to the flash, I see Hudson over near one of the bars. He’s wearing a super realistic-looking flight suit with aviators tucked into his collar. It’s silly that he looks so handsome considering it’s just a costume, but quite frankly he looks like he just walked off the set of Top Gun and it’s fulfilling some kind of weird fantasy I didn’t even realize I had until this very instant.

Barrett and Nyles haven’t arrived yet, but they swore they’d be here. I could really use them right about now because my mom and dad are immediately swept up into conversation, leaving me on my own just as I spot the other first-year associates clustered together in a group nearby.

Kendra is dressed as a cat—she’s the fourth one I’ve seen so far—and Makayla is a Handmaid, but I can’t really tell what everyone else is supposed to be. The guys aren’t in costumes at all, which I’m sure they’re regretting now because this is not a party where you show restraint. All the senior associates and partners have gone all out. It just makes it seem like the first-years take themselves way too seriously.

“Is that Dorothy?”

I spin around just as Barrett and Nyles walk into the party beneath the floral arch dressed as the Tin Man and Scarecrow. I gasp, totally in shock. I mentioned to Barrett the other day that it seemed like Jasper was going to skip the party. Maybe he could tell I was a little hurt by it, but I never thought they’d go to the trouble to do this!

The photographer hurries back to take our picture just as they join me. He captures a picture of Nyles wrapping me up in a tight hug, and I already know I’ll want a copy to frame. I mean, they really went all out. The costumes look homemade. While the photographer snaps away, I try to figure out the logistics of Barrett’s Scarecrow costume.

“Did you stuff your overalls with real hay?”

“Yes! That’s what a scarecrow is, city girl!”

Nyles didn’t half-ass it either. He’s painted his face and neck and hands so his deep olive skin is covered with silver paint.

“You know the real actor was hospitalized from the aluminum makeup they used on set,” I tell him, peering closer to try to discern what he used. Whatever it is, it’s completely covered his skin. He’s applied it so well it blends into the little tin hat he’s pinned to his hair. Usually, it’s jet black, but tonight he’s sprayed it silver.

Nyles laughs. “Don’t worry, I skipped the aluminum, sis. Now where can I get one of those fancy drinks you’re holding?”

“Find a clown.”

His eyes cut to me with suspicion. “What?”

I smile. “I’m serious. One of them pulled it out of his hat, though I’m sure you can do it the traditional way and just order one from the bar.”

Nyles takes me on his arm, and we follow behind Barrett. The two of them save me. For the next hour, we mix and mingle. Barrett introduces me around to the senior associates and partners from other departments I haven’t had a chance to meet yet. For the most part, everyone is kind. There was one guy who was slurring his words and made a point to tell me I was the “hottest Dorothy he’d ever seen” before Barrett intervened and pulled me away. Apparently the guy is already on his last leg with the firm anyway. I doubt we’ll bump into each other again, tonight or ever.

“For the record,” Nyles says quietly, “you are the hottest Dorothy, and don’t you forget it.”

I laugh and scrunch my nose at him, realizing just then that Barrett and Nyles have unintentionally pulled me into a group of attorneys that happens to include Hudson.

I notice him right away, but he doesn’t notice me. He’s across the circle, holding the neck of a beer, chatting with the man on his right. Well, chatting is a strong word. The man is talking at Hudson, and Hudson is pretending to listen. I notice now that his flight suit is unzipped just enough to reveal a glimpse of his tan chest. I realize I’m chewing on my bottom lip, and suddenly, I release it, appreciative of the long-wear red lipstick the makeup artist used on me.

I’m not surprised he hasn’t spotted me. We’re not in a perfect circle; that’s not the way it works at parties. I’m stuck a little behind Barrett’s shoulder, sandwiched behind him and Nyles. The party has really picked up in the last hour; the rooftop is packed with Elwood Hoyt employees, invited guests, and all the performers. They’re the best part. At any moment you might cross paths with a knife-eating enchantress or a juggler on stilts or a magician ready to steal the diamond right off your ring finger.


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