I don’t work in the neighborhood I live in, even though it would be much more convenient and wouldn’t require me to take a subway and bus each way to work. The reality is, the area I live in is a dump, and there really are no decent paying jobs there. My options would be limited to corner stores and gas stations, neither of which is safe, so instead I spend thirty minutes commuting on the subway and bus—sometimes up to four times a day—so I can make enough money to return to the crappy neighborhood.
My apartment is in a rundown building, covered in graffiti. Like any other day, there are people hanging out on the front steps already getting drunk or waiting to buy drugs. I ignore them, and they ignore me; it works for everyone involved. My apartment is small: basically the living room and bedroom are the same space with a small “kitchen” area against one wall. There is a small fridge with a freezer, a very small sink, and a hot plate. The bathroom is just off the living room/bedroom and is just big enough for one person. If you are sitting on the toilet and someone were to open the door, they would hit your knees. I’ve tried to make my space as warm and comfortable as possible: I’ve spent money I really didn’t have to paint the walls and buy small items that make it feel more like a home. No one but me sees it but the small touches make me smile when I come home, and it reminds me that this is my own space, a space where no one can control what I do.
“Hello?” My phone rings the moment I sit down on my daybed.
“Kenzie, it’s Nancy. “
“Hi Nancy, how are you?”
“I’m in a bind. We’re incredibly short staffed and I just received a call from one of your clients insisting that they need a dress tonight and that you are the only one she trust—“
“Bridget?”
“Yes,” she chuckles. “The only thing is, she insists she can’t wait until you are scheduled to come in because she needs this dress tonight. I know you’re not scheduled to come in until four…”
“What time does she need me?”
“No later than one thirty.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thank you, Kenzie! She said she will make it worth your time.”
“I’m sure she will. I’ll see you shortly.”
And like that, my plan for taking a nap is gone, although, knowing Bridget as well as I do, she will definitely make it worth my time, which is always appreciated since money is tight. I quickly start a pot of coffee, knowing I’m going to need it if I’m going to make it until closing tonight and stay awake on the bus ride home.
I’ve worked as a personal shopper for a few months now even if landing the job was pure luck because I’m hardly qualified for something like this. I was killing time between an interview at a coffee house and waiting for a bus when I decided to walk around the store to escape the rain. Why I chose this store was beyond me because there was no way I could even afford even a scarf in a place like this anymore. At one time, this was the type of store I shopped in regularly, it was all part of the world I knew. Walking around, I was surprised I didn’t miss this from my former life, but instead it made me realize how much my life has changed since then. A few minutes later, I noticed an older woman impatiently waiting at a counter desperately trying to get the cashier’s attention, but she was busy with a long line of people. I happened to walk by her when she mumbled under her breath about useless staff who probably wouldn’t be able to tell her if the item was this year’s design or last year’s.
Flashback
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but did you have a question about that purse?”
“Yes, I doubt you would know but I need to know if this is from this year’s collection or if you just routinely stock out-of-date designs?” she asks, her voice full of disregard and annoyance.
“Ma’am, I can’t tell you what this store stocks, but I can assure you that the purse you are holding is from this year’s catalogue. If I remember correctly, it was only released to stores within the last 60 days—“
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Ms. Wilder, I am so sorry—“ a woman quickly approaches us, giving an evil eye to the cashier who still appears to be overwhelmed with her customers.
“Apparently you don’t value my business,” the woman I now know as Ms. Wilder says. “This young lady came to my rescue and assisted me. I want her to be my personal shopper or you will lose my entire account—“
“But—“
“Get me the manager now!” Ms. Wilder hisses.
“I… Um… Ms. Wilder?” I ask nervously.
“What is it?” she snaps.
“I don’t work here, so I can’t—“
“You will by the time I leave.”
“Ms. Wilder.” An older man dressed in a perfect suit approaches us.
“Mr. Goodman, nice to see you again.” She shakes his hand and smiles.
“You’re looking lovely as always, Ms. Wilder. How can I assist you this fine afternoon?” He sends me a withering look, obviously trying to figure out what I’m doing here.
“You see, my usual personal shopper over there,” Ms. Wilder glares at the woman who is just behind Mr. Goodman. “Showed up late yet again for our appointment, leaving me to find the purse I needed for the gala tonight. I wanted someone to answer a very important question and could not find a single one of your staff members who could spare a couple of minutes to help someone like me. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, that I have a very large account with your store—“
“Of course not, Ms. Wilder, I cannot apologize enough—“ he quickly interjects.
“I have decided to give you one final chance at keeping my account, but you blow this and I’ll take my business somewhere else.”
“Of course! Anything you want, Ms. Wilder—“
“Fire her.” She glares at the woman.
“Done.” He gestures for her to leave them, which the poor woman does in tears.
“Hire this lovely woman and assign her to my entire account.” She gestures at me.
“Ms. Wilder, this is highly unusual—“
“I’m sure by now you know that I’m a very unusual woman, Mr. Goodman,” Ms. Wilder argues.
“If Ms—“ He looks at me questioningly.
“Rose… Mackenzie Rose,” I nearly whisper, trying to find my voice in the confusion that is unfolding before me.
“If Ms. Rose has time, I would love to discuss the personal shopper position that recently became available.”
“Thank you, Mr. Goodman,” I confirm.
“Then that settles it. I will call tomorrow to schedule my first appointment with Ms. Rose.”
I chuckle, remembering Bridget that day and the type of woman she is. One who knew exactly what she wanted and went for it. Today is no different: She needs me earlier, and I am here earlier. She has a very large account with the store, as in multiple people on the account easily spending thousands of dollars a week on high-end items. Her account pretty much makes up my entire customer basis because it is that large. If I work on a day where someone on her account isn’t scheduled, I assist with any walk-ins or cover for one of the other personal shoppers. However, it’s clearly known that anytime I’m working, if Bridget or someone on her account comes in, they become my priority.
Bridget is the only reason I even have this job—typically you need years of retail experience before you can even be considered for a personal shopper position at a high-end establishment like this. While I’ve had plenty of work experience, nothing comes even close to something like this. However, living the lifestyle he kept me in, has for once worked in my favor. I know all the designers, the current trends, and even what celebrities wear because that’s how I was expected to be dressed in. That was the only reason I knew the answer to Bridget’s question that day.
“Kenzie, thank you again,” Nancy greets me as soon as I enter the staff area.
“It’s not a problem, Nancy, I’m glad to help out.”
“Ms. Wilder will arrive in the next th
irty minutes or so. She needs a floor-length gown for an art gala tonight. Although she didn’t specifically request it, I’m sure she will need accessories for the gown.”
“Of course, I will have everything waiting for her when she arrives. Is her usual room available?”
“Yes, it’s reserved for you to use today.”
“Perfect.”
“Later today, she added a new client to your schedule—“
“A new client?”
“Someone new she recently added to her account. As usual, she insisted that you are the only one who can assist him.”
“Of course,” I chuckle, knowing that any of the other workers here are more than capable of helping Bridget. Most staff here have far more experience in personal shopping than I do.
“You’ll be providing him with several outfits according to the list: a ball gown, three cocktail dresses, and several casual dresses. I emailed you the list and size information this morning.”
“Great, thank you.”
I quickly go through the store and pick out several gowns that I think Bridget would appreciate. Over the last few months, I’ve gotten to know her very well, including the types of clothing and colors she prefers. Small things like colors and the high heels she likes are things to be a successful personal shopper. We are supposed to save them time, so it is expected we know exactly what they want. I’m finishing hanging the last of the gowns when Bridget appears at my door right on time as always.
“Ms. Wilder, how are you today?” I greet her.
“Kenzie, dear, how many times have I told you to call me Bridget?”
“Of course, Bridget, how are you?” I quickly correct myself. To my knowledge, I am the only one here who is permitted to call her by her first name.
“If it wasn’t for you, I would be screwed,” she sighs dramatically. “My incompetent assistant forgot to put the art gala on my schedule. I only learned about the event when one of the organizers contacted me about the schedule for tonight. Can you imagine how I sounded to her, not even knowing the event was tonight? I was mortified!”
“I am so sorry, that must have been terrible for you.”
“Devastating! Luckily, I was able to mumble through the conversation before I fired my assistant on the spot. Then I called here only to find out that you weren’t scheduled to be in until the time I needed to arrive at the hairdresser for the only appointment time they had available today. I cannot thank you enough for coming in early, as I’m sure you had other things to do today.”
“It’s fine, Bridget, really it wasn’t a big deal. I was just getting home so the timing was perfect.”
“Getting home? Don’t tell me you actually had a date this morning?”
As always, Bridget assumes if I’m not at work, it must be because I’m seeing someone. Little does she know dating is the furthest thing from my mind; just the thought of opening myself up and falling in love again is something that terrifies me. I don’t think that I could ever trust someone like that again.
“No, I worked this morning—“
“Nancy said you weren’t scheduled to work until this afternoon? Was she not aware that you worked this morning?”
“I work at a bakery in the morning which is why I only work evenings here.”
“You work two jobs?” She sounds mortified that anyone would work more than one job.
I have no idea how much she thinks I make here, but it barely covers the rent on my little apartment. The bakery paycheck covers my utility bills, food, and the little clothing I have. The paycheck from here covers the rent on my crappy little apartment and my student loan bills that I will probably forever be paying off at this rate.
“I do, but enough about me! Let’s show you the dresses I picked out for tonight. We don’t want you to miss your hair appointment.”
With the focus back on Bridget, the topic of my finances and why I work two jobs is avoided. Over the course of the next hour, she tries on the gowns and accessories I selected before finally choosing the one I knew she would pick.
“This is perfect, Kenzie! You have outdone yourself as usual!” She gazes at herself in the mirror, taking in the complete outfit.
“Once again your timing was perfect, this collection only arrived at the store this morning. It hasn’t even made it to the floor yet—“
“It’s perfect for the gala,” she confirms.
“If you want to change, I will have everything wrapped up for you. I assume we’re charging this to your account?”
“Of course.”
The dress, undergarments, shoes, and jewelry are packaged and waiting for Bridget when she steps out of the dressing area. Normally, I would have the items delivered to her condo, but even she knows with such a tight schedule tonight, delivery isn’t an option and adds a risk she doesn’t need.
“Kenzie… how many hours did you work this morning at the bakery?” she asks out of the blue as we are walking out to her car.
“Um… about seven,” I’m taking back by her question as I assumed the topic of my employment was long forgotten.
“And you arrived here at what, one?” I nod. “What time will you finish tonight?”
“I am scheduled until closing, so I should clock out around ten—“
“So you’re working 15 hours today?” She quickly does the math in her head.
“About that.”
“Is this typical for you?”
“Not really.” I’m very uncomfortable with the personal questions but can’t figure out how to end the conversation without insulting her. If I do anything to jeopardize her account, I will lose my job on the spot, and there is no way I would be able to afford my apartment without this job. “Some days I work both jobs, but other days it’s just one or the other.”
“I see,” she pauses. “One last question, do you enjoy what you do?”
“I enjoy meeting new people and helping them find the perfect outfit,” I answer vaguely.
“That’s what I thought.” She seems to be thinking about something but quickly shakes her head when we arrive at her car. “Thank you again, Kenzie, for your help, I truly appreciate you coming in early today for me, especially after working this morning.”
“Have a great time this evening, Bridget.”
Chapter 2
Kenzie
“Kenzie?” Nancy calls for me as I’m putting the last items on a hanger in the private room I was assigned for the day.
“Sorry, Nancy, I was just gathering the remaining items for Ms. Wilder’s new client,” I explain.
“Oh good, because he’s here now—“
“Now? I thought he wasn’t due until four?” I glance at my watch, feeling the need to confirm that I haven’t lost track of time.
“He wasn’t, but apparently his plans have changed, and he was hoping to pick up everything now, if it’s ready.”
“Of course, just let me organize everything and I can show it all to him.”
Apparently nothing in my day is going as planned, especially taking that nap I desperately needed earlier. I fight back a yawn and push through, realizing I still have several hours left to work today. Tomorrow I’m only scheduled to work at the bakery in the morning, so as long as nothing else changes, I’m planning on spending a few hours in bed catching up on sleep. Today is the third day in a row I’m working both jobs, and although I’ll be thankful for the increase in hours when I receive my paychecks, right now I’m wishing I had time to take a nap before coming in.
“Ms. Rose, this is Mr. Thompson… Mr. Thompson this is Ms. Rose, she handles all of Ms. Wilder’s accounts,” Nancy introduces me to the middle-aged man next to her dressed in an obviously very expensive business suit.
“Mr. Thompson, it’s nice to meet you.”
“And you.”
“If you need anything, I’ll be out front.” Nancy leaves.
“I understand from Ms. Wilder that you need several items for a business trip. I’ve organized several options for you
, however, if something is not to your liking, I can add more.”
“Thank you, I appreciate you picking out all of this… I admit I have pretty lousy taste is women’s clothing.”
“You just let me know colors and styles you like or dislike as we go through the options and then, as I get to know you a little better, the choices will become less each time you need something. You will find with fewer choices we will easily have the perfect outfit for you quickly. Since this is our first meeting, it’s going to take a little longer as I gathered items that most of Ms. Wilder’s clients seem to favor.”
We spend the next thirty minutes going through each of the items that I had chosen for Mr. Thompson. I learn very quickly he wasn’t joking when he said he has lousy taste in women’s clothing. In fact, he barely says anything as I explain each item and seems unfazed by the designers I mention. By the end though, he agrees to a few of the items, but I can’t tell if he picks them because he likes them or because he just wants to get out of here. Typically, I can read people, and by the end of the first meeting, I will have a fairly good idea of what they will like going forward, but Mr. Thompson still stumps me.
“Will there be anything else you need?” I ask as I zipper everything into the garment bags.
“I don’t think so,” he says nervously. “I’m taking my… girlfriend on a business trip with me, so I wasn’t sure what she would need. I think this will cover everything though.”
The Arrangement Duet Box Set Page 2