“I lost track of time and didn’t leave the office until a quarter past five. Unfortunately for me, the meeting was scheduled for five at a bar ten minutes away.” Both Daneen and I (and even Rob), knew whose fault it really was, but I didn’t want to give Daneen the satisfaction of stooping to her level by telling everyone else what she’d done.
“Oh, no,” Lucy said with wide eyes.
I waved my hand in the air. “It’s all good. She was so understanding. We even shared a Champagne toast.” I beamed at Lucy and then Daneen.
Daneen pouted at me. “It might be a tiny bit my fault too. As soon as I realized my watch was broken, I thought of you and worried I’d messed you up. But it was after hours by then. My bad. Forgive me?”
I smiled sweetly even as I seethed on the inside. “All’s well that ends well.”
“And as it turns out, those documents were useless anyway so it was all for nothing.” Daneen snorted as if what she said was actually humorous.
Rob cleared his throat. “When the book comes out, we’ll go someplace fancier. I promise.”
“Your agent needs to sell the book to a publisher first. Isn’t that correct?” Daneen asked before demurely wiping her mouth with a napkin.
“That’s the way it usually works,” I responded dryly.
Daneen nodded. “I was just checking. This is uncharted territory for me.”
I narrowed my eyes at her but didn’t respond. From the multitude of tidbits she had disclosed about the publishing process under the transparent guise of being helpful and supportive, one would assume she was an expert in the field. I took a bite of my California veggie slice, hoping someone would change the subject by the time I chewed and swallowed.
Daneen smiled at me without showing any teeth. “It could be a long process though, right?”
My stomach sank. I was acutely aware securing an agent was only the first step toward becoming a published author. “Yes. I don’t know how long it will take Felicia to sell my book. Could be a very long time.” If ever.
“Good thing for me you’re not ready to quit the day job yet,” Rob piped in, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
Pretending not to hear Daneen mumble, “And we all know how vital secretaries are” under her breath, I smiled at Rob. “Yes, because I’m obviously the best assistant you’ve ever had.”
Rob shrugged. “Eh. You might not be the most enthusiastic sometimes, but you’ve got good skills. And no one multitasks like you.”
I gave myself a pat on the back. “I do what I can.”
“Well, congratulations. I can’t wait to tell Amy. She loves chick lit.” David beamed at me.
“Good to know I have a guaranteed sale from someone not related to me.”
“I’ll buy it too,” Lucy chimed in.
“As will I,” Rob said. “Although I probably won’t actually read it.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
He winked at me. “It’s all about the sale, kiddo. Ca-ching.”
It did not escape my attention that Daneen was the only one at the table who didn’t express her intention to purchase my book, but I would rather her not buy it than read it and give me her unsolicited opinion after the fact. Or worse, leave a three-paragraph review critiquing my writing style, technical skills, and character development.
“I’m sure Nicholas will buy it too,” David said.
“He’d better,” I said.
“I’ll corner him tonight and threaten him bodily damage if he doesn’t,” Lucy said.
I chuckled as I imagined skinny Lucy beating on Nicholas. And then I felt the color drain from my face. “What do you mean tonight?”
“At the Judges’ Dinner,” Lucy said.
My mouth fell open in surprise.
“He didn’t tell you he was going?” Daneen asked me, her eyes shining in unabashed delight.
“No, of course he did,” I lied. “It’s been such a crazy twenty-four hours. I completely forgot.” I planted on a fake smile. “I need to use the restroom.”
I walked calmly to the bathroom, entered a stall, and placed paper on the toilet seat before sitting down. Then I reached into my pocketbook and grabbed my phone. Not surprisingly, I had a text from Nicholas. I took a calming breath and slowly exhaled before reading it. “Don’t kill me. The Patent Prom is tonight at the Waldorf, and I completely forgot about it. I need to be there, although, trust me, I’d much rather spend the night with you. Weekend festivities are much better, anyway. Saturday? Pick a place. Any place. I’m so sorry.”
The Judges’ Dinner, also known as the Patent Prom, was an annual black-tie event attended by anyone who was anyone in intellectual property law. Nicholas had attended the year before as well. We were broken up at the time, but still friends on Facebook, and when I saw Nicholas tagged in Daneen’s picture, I thought the two of them were on a date and cried into my coffee. This was before Nicholas resigned, and it never occurred to me he would still attend, especially since he never told me. Playing the role of the understanding girlfriend, I texted him back: “No worries. I hope you won’t miss your left testicle too much.”
I placed my palm on my forehead and closed my eyes trying to regain my composure before returning to the table. Stopping at the mirror on the way out, I peered at my dejected reflection. My “celebration” had taken an unexpectedly uncelebratory turn. Afraid Lucy—or worse, Daneen—would come after me if I didn’t go back soon, I pinched my cheeks for some color and took a deep breath through my nose. Wishing I were dating a bike messenger, an unemployed trust-fund kid, or a schoolteacher instead of a motivated and ambitious attorney, I headed back to my colleagues as if I hadn’t a trouble in the world.
Chapter 22
I went to Ground Support directly from the office to work on the edits of A Blogger’s Life. One advantage of not having a boyfriend to come home to—I could count on my nostrils how many times Nicholas beat me home from work since we moved in together—was I had nothing competing for my precious writing time. At the rate I was going, I would hand over the revised manuscript to Felicia days in advance of my estimated two-week turnaround.
Comfortably ahead of schedule on my edits, I took a break to update Pastel Is the New Black with an announcement.
Do you have an unhealthy addiction to reading? When you pass a bookstore, is the urge to go inside overwhelming? Are you drawn to the women’s fiction section, and in particular, to books with pretty eye-catching covers? After you read one of these delicious books, do you want to tell the world what you thought?
If you answered yes to all of these questions, keep reading to see if Pastel Is the New Black is looking for you!
For the first time ever, Pastel Is the New Black is seeking an associate reviewer. If your fondness for reading comes with a good command of the English language, an ability to meet deadlines, and a willingness to provide honest feedback (including criticism if warranted), in a kind and fair manner, please email three sample book reviews to the address located in the “Contact Me” section of my website.
I will review all entries over the course of the next month and will contact all candidates who have been selected for the next round via return email. Note: This is an unpaid position. However, it does come with its perks (free books!). Also, you must be comfortable reading an ebook.
Good luck and happy reading!
With my mouse hovering over the “publish” button, I chewed on my lip. I liked being a one-man show, but Felicia was right: between working a full-time job and nurturing my writing career, Pastel Is the New Black was bound to suffer. My choices were either to enlist an assistant or decrease the activity on the blog. Felicia’s concern about my posting unfavorable reviews once I joined the author ranks was also valid.
Taking on an assistant was the solution, and the first step was the selection process. I would carefully vet all of the candidates in ter
ms of their writing skills, enthusiasm meter, and diplomacy. Phone interviews or video chats in the second round would hopefully weed out potential crazies. It could be fun. Confident I was doing the right thing, I published the post.
With one more item crossed off my to-do list, I checked my email. Caroline had sent a message to Bridget and me asking if we were available for a video chat at ten o’clock our time to catch up. She apologized for the last-minute scheduling, but said her itinerary was going to be hectic in the next couple of weeks, and she missed us. Bridget had already responded with an enthusiastic, “Count me in. K?”
I glanced at the time on my computer. It was past nine, but more than enough time to close up shop and head home. I messaged back: “Sorry for the late response. I’ll see you guys at ten.”
Forty-five minutes later, I was perched at my kitchen table in front of my laptop, whooping at Bridget and Jonathan’s matching blue velour hooded pajamas. We were still waiting for Caroline to join the session. “Where in heaven did you pick those up? And why?” I snorted, and a drop of the ginger ale I was drinking leaked out of my nose.
Tightening the hood’s drawstring around her neck, Bridget drew closer to the computer and cocked her head to the side. “No likey?”
“This writer has no words. No. Words. Who bought them for you?”
“They were a gag gift from my sister for Hanukkah. We thought we’d whip them out for this momentous occasion,” Jonathan said.
“The occasion being?” I questioned.
“Meeting with my peeps, of course,” Bridget said, rolling her eyes. “And I’m not one hundred percent convinced Rebecca meant it as a gag gift. Do you see the way she dresses your niece and nephew?”
Elbowing her, Jonathan said, “Watch yourself. That’s my sister you’re ranking on” just as Caroline joined the call. Her hand immediately went to her mouth, presumably in response to Bridget and Jonathan’s PJs.
Elbowing him back, Bridget replied, “You’ve said worse about your sister. Anyhoo…time for you to skedaddle. Girls only. Buh-bye. Love you.”
After waving his hand in front of the computer, Jonathan did as he was told and skedaddled.
Once Caroline wrapped up the requisite chuckle at Bridget’s getup, and Bridget quit her half-assed attempt to convince us velour was the new silk in sexy sleepwear, we got down to business. “Guess who just booked a flight to New York City?” Caroline asked, smiling wide.
“You’re coming home?” Bridget asked excitedly.
“Don’t you still have several months of leave accumulated?” I missed Caroline like crazy and was stoked at the thought of having her back in town for in-person get-togethers. But aside from the trip to Iceland her father paid for the year before in an attempt to buy her forgiveness for marrying a woman her age, Caroline went several years without more than a few long weekends off from work before insisting on this sabbatical. I suspected once she returned to her job, it would be another decade before she treated herself to well-deserved time off again.
“Yes and yes,” Caroline said.
“Elaborate, por favor,” Bridget said.
Giggling, I said, “Don’t you mean s’il vous plaît? She’s in France.”
Caroline chuckled. “In English, you’re both right. I am coming home. And I do have several more months remaining of my vacation. My trip to New York is only a pit stop before I leave again. I have some exciting news, and I want to share it in person.”
“What news?” Bridget and I asked at the same time.
Caroline shook her head. “It’s hush-hush until I see you.”
“This sounds serious,” Bridget said.
I frowned. What could Caroline have to say that had to be shared face to face? The possibilities were endless. Was she sick? Moving abroad for good? Obviously, the latter was preferable to the former, but I didn’t want our friendship to be long-distance permanently. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m not dying, girls, I promise. But you’ll have to be patient because these lips are sealed.” Caroline pressed her thumb and pointer finger together and ran them across her lips for emphasis. “I’ll be here two Fridays from now. Save the date. Invite Jonathan and Nicholas too. I’ll make reservations somewhere cool.”
“Consider the date saved. Jonathan and I will be there,” Bridget exclaimed gleefully.
“I’ll be there too,” I said.
“With Nicholas, right?” Caroline asked.
Chewing on my lower lip, I shrugged.
Bridget furrowed her brow. “What’s up with Nicholas, K?”
“Nothing’s up with Nicholas. It’s just…he’s not very reliable these days. We haven’t even celebrated my snagging an agent yet.”
Caroline’s mouth dropped open. “Whoa…what? Snagged an agent? Spill.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I haven’t signed the contract yet, but yes, Felicia Harrison wants to represent me.”
“Hannah Marshak’s agent,” Bridget added with a snort. “But we’ll forgive her for that lapse in judgment.”
I told Caroline about Felicia’s interest in A Blogger’s Life on the condition I make some major plot changes.
I left out Daneen’s attempt at sabotage choosing to focus on the positive.
“I’m designing Kim’s new author website. It will be among my best work, obviously,” Bridget said, smiling.
“I’m thrilled for you, Kim,” Caroline yelped.
I nodded. “It’s a dream come true.”
Tilting her head to the side, Caroline said, “But?”
“But…Nicholas has been so distracted by work lately. I rushed home after my meeting with Felicia last night prepared to toast with him, but he stayed late at the office. This morning, he promised we’d celebrate tonight.” I glanced around the empty apartment. “Clearly that didn’t happen.”
“Working late again?” Caroline asked.
“More like schmoozing late.” In response to the confused expression on Caroline and Bridget’s faces, I clarified. “He’s at a lawyer event at the Waldorf Astoria. He’d forgotten all about it. I’m hesitant to rely on his latest assurance to take me out on Saturday instead.” I swallowed down the lump in my stomach as it hit me how much I missed my boyfriend. If it were only the last couple of nights, it would be one thing. I knew his attendance at the Patent Prom was important to his career and would never expect him to skip it on my account, but it seemed I was forever coming in second to his employer lately.
“I’m positive he won’t cancel on you for Saturday,” Bridget said encouragingly,
Caroline nodded. “Me too. But maybe you should show him what he’s been missing while working late instead of getting cuddly with his sexy girlfriend.”
“What’s the plan this time, Ace?” I asked.
Smiling wickedly, Caroline said, “Buy some sexy lingerie and wear it under your outfit. During your celebratory dinner, tease Nicholas with what’s waiting for him at home. And then make good on your teasing later.”
I closed my eyes, recalling how easy it used to be to obtain and keep Nicholas’s attention focused on me simply by donning a low-cut shirt and showcasing my cleavage in all its glory. I opened my eyes. Maybe it was time to sex things up a bit. “I can do that.”
“Of course you can,” Caroline said confidently.
My mind wandering, I said, “Maybe we can recreate the piano sex scene from Pretty Woman. I’ve been wanting to do that since I moved in.”
“Let me know if you do. I’ll wipe down the piano keys with antibacterial spray before playing ‘Chopsticks’ next time I come over,” Bridget said.
“Ha ha. Anyway, I feel better now. Thank you both,” I said.
Caroline smiled. “What are friends for?”
After I told the girls about my plan to hire an associate reviewer, Bridget described her ideas for my new website, and C
aroline remained firm on her decision to keep her big news under wraps until we saw her face to face, we ended the chat. I briefly perused the Victoria’s Secret website before deciding to visit La Petite Coquette, a smaller lingerie shop in Union Square, during lunch the next day. If I didn’t find the perfect prop for my night of seduction, I would stop by Victoria’s Secret in the evening before heading home.
Sex with Nicholas was always mind-blowing, but since I moved in, I hadn’t bothered with flirty undergarments, choosing to get naked as quickly as possible instead. I reveled at the thought of Nicholas’s jaw dropping when he saw me in a sexy chemise or babydoll, and I imagined him peeling it off of me with soft, yet firm, hands. Naughty thoughts lulled me to sleep, and although I had a vague recollection of Nicholas slipping into the bed at some point, I didn’t wake up.
Chapter 23
I reached across our candlelit table in the romantic West Village Italian restaurant and squeezed Nicholas’s hand. He had come through on his promise to make Saturday night all about me. And since I convinced him to go an extra day without shaving, his stubbly jaw looked yummier than any of the appetizers currently on our table. I thought about the blue silk chiffon babydoll I was wearing underneath my outfit, and my mind raced in anticipation of Nicholas’s reaction to seeing everything through the sheer material. I had definitely splurged on the piece but justified it as a necessary expense to save my relationship. Hopefully, luxuries like this wouldn’t crack my piggy bank for much longer once Felicia negotiated a nice author advance from the sale of my novel to a huge publisher.
“What are you grinning at?” Nicholas asked.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” I teased, before biting into a stuffed mushroom.
“Fair enough.” He took a slow sip of his red wine and smiled at me over his glass.
“Tell me about the Patent Prom. Any gossip?” The ramifications of the event’s open-bar post-party in the firm’s hospitality suite were legendary. Rumor had it one year, one of the more attractive male paralegals sucked face in plain sight with one of the much older married female associates, although the episode was never spoken of again. The after-party was open to employees of the firm deemed important enough to snag invitations to the main event as well as clients, and I was sure Nicholas wouldn’t want to miss hanging out with his old colleagues. As long as the gossip didn’t involve him and one Daneen Barnett (or him and anyone else, for that matter), I was on a need-to-know basis—meaning, I needed to know.
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