Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75481 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“I’m the fashion stylist for Kendall Jacobs, which means I’m in charge of her wardrobe for the show and any other events or appearances that involve a fashion sense.”
I tried to school my reaction. Holy shit, the Kendall Jacobs Show. The very popular talk show everyone watches.
He arched a brow. “Tell me you’ve heard of it.”
“Yes, of course.” Mom was obsessed with her show. She would watch it while prepping for dinner every afternoon at four o’clock. She was going to freak when I told her, even if I didn’t get the job.
Rowan blew out a breath. “Glad to hear it. I thought for a moment you were one of those people who had nothing to do with pop culture or social media. That would not fly in this business.”
When he sat back down, then motioned to the two chairs across from his desk, I realized I’d been standing the whole time. I was so caught up in the conversation that I hadn’t even noticed.
“We’re also in charge of any of her guests who might need us to pull wardrobe pieces for them, though most bring their own stylists to help them dress for the show.”
I’d had no idea that sort of thing even existed. People needed that much help getting dressed? I swallowed roughly. Maybe I was in over my head. But the job called for an assistant, so I’d assumed data entry and phone calls like the last seven positions.
“The temp agency told me this was an assistant job. I thought that meant organizing your schedule and maybe some other office tasks. Was I wrong?”
“I do need someone to manage my schedule. But I also expect all hands on deck to help wherever you’re needed.” He gave me a pointed look, effectively telling me playtime was over. “Even if it requires walking a dog to meet the show’s deadline.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. I can definitely do that.” I scratched the back of my neck, feeling put on the spot. “Is that why your last assistant left? They couldn’t be a team player?”
Me and my stupid big mouth. But didn’t I have the right to know?
He narrowed his eyes. “She went on to study fashion design at Parsons. Most assistants I’ve hired had other aspirations in this business. I’m assuming you do not.” His eyes glided down to my knockoff Chucks I wore on the daily. They were a little shabby, but even Casey had admitted they looked cool with the outfit.
“I have aspirations too.” I looked away, my cheeks burning, and I wondered why it even mattered. I could walk out right now and never think about this man or place again. Except, I probably wouldn’t because it was the most interesting interview I’d been on in a while. Maybe ever.
“What are they?” he asked as he played with the pen in his hand, twirling it round and round his fingers.
Should I tell him I had no clue? That I was a transplant to the city from a small Podunk town in Missouri, where my family consisted of blue-collar workers, and that I wanted—needed—to strike out on my own?
My shoulders slumped. “I only just moved here a year ago, and it would be nice to secure something more permanent.”
How was that for an aspiration? I figured honesty was the best policy.
“Have you any training or a college degree?”
“I took a couple of classes here and there at a community college, but they weren’t for me.” I wouldn’t admit I’d also tried to become my dad’s plumbing apprentice, but that really wasn’t my thing. My dad had been disappointed, but I was always dropping things and basically the clumsiest person ever, so how could he not see I wasn’t cut out for it? “College isn’t for everyone, you know.”
“Oh, I definitely know.” He waved toward a photo on his desk of him and his late father. Not that I would’ve noticed it otherwise in all the clutter. I’d read somewhere that Rowan Sr.’s husband had taken over his empire. “My education came from crawling around fabric swatches and magazine covers from an early age.”
“From your designer father. And now you’re hoping to make it on your own?” I winced as soon as I said the words, knowing how they would sound.
“I’m very obviously making it on my own.” His eyes darkened as they narrowed at me. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Feel free to see yourself—”
“I’m sorry if I offended you. I didn’t mean… I know I’m not what you expected,” I said in a rush, then squared my shoulders. The job was a lost cause now, so I might as well drop the pretenses. “I’m a hard worker and learn fast. I can at least promise you that.”
He just stared at me instead of kicking me out, and I wondered how desperate he was to find an assistant.