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)
And there I went, thinking about my boss again. Maybe Casey was right, and I was getting used to his grumpy attitude. Maybe I even enjoyed the banter between us. I liked trying to make him smile—for real or in embarrassment—because why not? It gave me something to look forward to when I was mindlessly steaming clothes.
Guess only time would tell. And if things didn’t improve, I’d probably follow through on my idea of quitting at the end of the show season, assuming he didn’t drive me to the brink before then.
5
When my alarm blared, I rolled out of bed, more tired than I would’ve been had I not gone out last night. But I’d gotten a quickie out of it, plus some bonding time with my bestie, so it was worth it.
Kendall’s magazine shoot was in the Meatpacking District, in a large industrial space, and it was with a sought-after photographer, so this was a big deal, especially since it would include a spread about her life and career. I stopped at a Starbucks on the way because we’d both need it.
“Look what the cat finally dragged in,” Rowan said, and I rolled my eyes since I wasn’t late in the least. I was ten minutes early, normally was, and he knew that. He just liked to needle me about it. “At least you’ve changed out of your club gear.”
“My outfit was perfectly acceptable for the setting. I was dancing and sweaty and it provided plenty of air-conditioning, if you know what I mean.” Rowan cleared his throat, his cheeks ruddy as I handed off his cup. “You might not want to mess with the person who handles your coffee.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” He stared at the cup briefly before shrugging and dramatically throwing his head back for a long sip. I shook my head and chuckled, finding a spot to place my things near the rack of clothing with Kendall’s designs.
Rowan was smartly dressed today in a tweed jacket with a whimsical tie, so not quite corporate but trendier. He looked good as usual, the blue in the tie picking up the yellow flecks in his hazel eyes. Okay, enough staring, or he was liable to think I admired his style or something. No way I’d give myself away.
“As I noted yesterday, the sartorial story is timeless Kendall Jacobs.” He motioned to the rack as if I hadn’t already seen the clothing I’d schlepped from the designer showroom yesterday. But now he’d arranged them in different looks, with jewelry pinned to each dress and matching shoes beneath in a neat line. It was one of the only times he was actually on point, when clothing and accessories were involved for others’ perusal, which today meant the photographer and the magazine representative.
“Uh-huh, looks good. Using the word sartorial doesn’t make it sound any classier, by the way. It just makes you sound pompous.”
I saw the beginnings of a smile before he turned away. Very serious man. “Can you ask the photographer which look is first?”
I walked over to where Chris Davis and his assistant were busy laying down drop cloths for the set. The magazine stylist was also in attendance to make sure the looks fit their editorial story. We chatted briefly while they told me their lineup for the day.
By the time the star of the shoot arrived, with Naomi trailing behind her, cell plastered to her ear, we were ready.
And whereas there were many hands on deck when we were at the studio, here it was different, a more intimate affair. Just good old me assisting a fussy stylist because I needed the paycheck. Okay, in fairness, I’d also come to enjoy the people I worked with. And maybe I secretly liked being ordered around by a beautiful man with a battered heart and a sour demeanor? That’s what Casey might say.
“You look adorable, as usual.” Kendall gave me air kisses. “I like your shirt.”
“Thank you,” I replied, then threw Rowan a smug look. “A thrift-store special.”
Kendall didn’t care that my clothes were from the clearance rack, or at least never acted like she did. She was less pretentious than Rowan, and she was the celebrity. Go figure.
“You should’ve seen his club outfit,” Rowan muttered as she air-bussed both of his cheeks.
“You loved it, and you know it,” I threw in his direction, smirking when I noted a line of color on his throat.
“Ooh, you’ve been clubbing?” Kendall’s eyes lit up. “You have to tell me all about it.”
Once she’d properly greeted the magazine stylist and the photographer, Naomi set up a small work area in the corner of the room and, as usual, seemed to hide behind her laptop. Rowan led Kendall to the rack where the designer looks were set up.
“What do you think?” he asked as she touched some of the fabrics. I could’ve sworn he held his breath. This shit mattered to him. Her opinion did too. Even after all this time. It was endearing.