“I’m ready,” I said.
“First, begin with a tender layer of baby spinach leaves—and a fair amount of them. Don’t skimp. Then, it all comes down to an even mix of frisée, baby red romaine, oak leaf lettuce, radicchio, watercress, roquette, and buttercrunch, which sounds fattening, but it isn’t. On it, just put a trace of olive oil—just a trace!—before you add a fair dollop of balsamic. Can you handle that?”
“I’ve got it—and it sounds good.”
“You have no idea.”
“Whom do I speak to at Tiffany?”
“Gordon. But whomever you come upon first, just say that you are there to pick up a necklace for Jennifer Wenn. They’re already expecting you, though you will need to show them your ID for security reasons. So, necklace first. Then a salad for me. I’ll expect you back here within the hour.”
An hour? Was she serious? Or was she just trying to set me up for failure because earlier I’d told her that I was never late? The traffic alone could screw this up for me.
“I’m off,” I said.
“As you should be. There’s a driver already waiting for you at the curbside. He’ll recognize you when you step onto the sidewalk, and he already knows where you’re going. So, if you’re not to be late, which you never are, I suggest that you go.”
* * *
When I left Wenn and moved onto the sidewalk, I saw a large stretch limo parked at the curbside in front of me. I would have dismissed it if a young, handsome man in his early thirties and a black business suit hadn’t nodded and opened the back door for me.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Wells.”
I walked over to him and shook his hand.
“I’m Zack Anderson. I’ll be your personal driver during your time here at Wenn.”
“I have a personal driver? And I’ll be riding in this?”
“Of course. Ms. Blackwell has a certain reputation to uphold in this town. I’d imagine that, as her new personal assistant, you will be viewed as an extension of that reputation, which Ms. Blackwell protects. Because of that, she wouldn’t have you arrive at any destination in anything less than this.”
What in the hell have I gotten my self into? Now I’m seen as an extension of her reputation? Oh, fantastic. Oh, calamity! Who better than Madison Wells from Wisconsin to follow in her storied footsteps? This is a job better suited for Anna Wintour than it is for me.
And then I just stopped myself. And checked myself. And took a deep mental breath before I slid into the back seat and pulled myself together. Zack closed the door behind me, came around the front of the car, and slipped into the driver’s seat. The roar of traffic on Fifth didn’t escape me, because I knew that for the next hour, that traffic would become my nemesis.
“Tiffany and then Le Salade?” Zack asked.
“Do you think we have time to do both in one hour?”
“We can if we hustle.”
“Then let’s hustle,” I said. “I can’t disappoint her.”
His eyes flicked up to meet mine in the rearview mirror before he cut into traffic. “Actually, I don’t think disappointing her is an option for you. Or for me, to be honest with you, because it’s been made very clear to me that your punctuality also rests on my shoulders. We should probably work as a team if we’re going to meet her demands.”
“Then we might as well make up a name for ourselves. How about Team Mackison?”
He smiled at that. “Works for me.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“A little over a year. I was reassigned yesterday and told that I now work exclusively for you.”
“Exclusively for me?”
“That’s right.”
“That suggests that I’m going to be doing more running around than I thought.”
“Ms. Blackwell is a pretty busy woman. What we’re doing today are things she used to do herself. She must be relieved to have you onboard.”
“That remains to be seen. Have you ever driven her anywhere?”
“All the time.”
Shazam!
“Do you by any chance know how she likes her salads?”
“In fact, I do. I’ve seen her make them myself.”
“I think the sun just came out,” I said with a sigh as I leaned back against the leather seat.
“Sorry?” he said.
“It’s just a metaphor, nothing more. She’s so exacting, maybe you can help me make my first salad for her?”
“Sure, Ms. Wells.”
“OK, so here’s the thing, Zack. There shouldn’t be any ‘Ms. Wells’ business on Team Mackison, so please call me Madison. I’m just a girl with a dream who might have stepped into a nightmare.”
“Nice to meet you, Madison.”
“We’ll get through this, Zack.”
When he didn’t respond, I felt my stomach sink.
* * *
Due to the heavy mid-afternoon traffic, it took us a full fifteen minutes before we arrived at Tiffany.
“Be quick,” Zack said when he opened my door.
I grabbed my bag and stepped out of the car. “I’m on it.”
I might have lived in Manhattan for two years, but this was my first time ever at Tiffany for reasons that my bank account perfectly understood. When I entered the store, it was as if I was in another world.
Gone were the busy sounds of traffic and the noisy thrum of people hustling up and down the sidewalks of Fifth. In their place was the quiet murmur of low voices coming from the surprisingly few people that were in the store.
I looked around for someone who might be Gordon, and as I did, I couldn’t help but take in the austere surroundings—the deep red tones of the wood-paneled walls, the illumined, coffered ceilings, the room’s deeply entrenched, symmetrical design, and especially the two beautiful, towering vases across the room that were overflowing with fresh flowers.
Directly in front of me, to my right, and to my left were large angular tables, each of which had sparkling glass tops and fronts, and were lit from within to display Tiffany’s spoils for the rich.
“May I help you?” a smartly dressed, chic, older woman in her fifties asked me.
“Barbara Blackwell sent me,” I said. “I’m supposed to meet someone here by the name of Gordon. Do you happen to know if he’s available?”
“I’m sorry, but Gordon is at lunch.”
Fuck my life.
“But I can help you,” she said. “You’re here to retrieve Jennifer Wenn’s necklace, yes? The one that everyone here has been talking about?”
Not quite fucked yet!
“I am.”
“I’d be delighted to help you. Come with me. There are private rooms in the back of the store where you can view the necklace. You can inspect it for yourself, and then, of course, I’ll need to see your ID before I can release it to you.”
“I’ve been given only a limited amount of time to get the necklace to Ms. Blackwell,” I said as I followed her. “I hope you understand.”
“No worries,” she said as we stepped into an impeccably appointed room that had a table in the corner with a chair on either side. “I’ll get you out of here in ten minutes. I understand the pressure you might be under. . . .”
She gave me a careful smile when she said that, and I looked at her with a sense of relief. At some point, Blackwell’s reputation had extended directly to her—I could tell by the knowing look in her eyes.
“Have a seat at the desk there,” she said. “I’ll retrieve the necklace, and you can have a look at it to see if it it suits, and then you’ll be on your way back to Ms. Blackwell in no time.”
“Thank you so much,” I said.
“May I ask your name?”
“Madison Wells.”
“I’m Sophia Buhr,” she said. “Hopefully, I’ll be seeing more of you. I’ll be right back, Madison. We’ll make this as swift as possible so as to ruffle nobody’s feathers.”
When she returned, she had a large, narrow Tiffany-blue box, which
she placed on the table in front of me. Eight minutes had already passed since I’d first entered the store—and my time was running out if I was going to get Blackwell her salad and deliver all of this to her within the hour.
As if sensing my impatience, Sophia lifted the lid, removed the box that was inside, and placed it on the table so that it faced me. When she opened it, time seemed to stop when I saw the necklace glimmering from within. It was spectacular, an exquisite display of diamonds of various sizes and cuts set snugly together in a gorgeous path of round brilliant and rose-cut diamonds.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I said. “Well, at least not in person. Or at least not right in front of me. Sorry to stammer, but I have never had the chance to appreciate something this decadent at such a close distance. It’s otherworldly.”
“It is beautiful,” she said.
“I can’t even imagine owning something like this.”
When I said that, she cocked her head at me, and her green eyes—set off by her bright blonde hair, which was swept up into a tight chignon that accentuated her high cheekbones—softened. “Not many of us can,” she said. “It does, after all, cost four hundred thousand dollars. But here,” she said as she lifted the necklace from its velvet interior. “Why don’t we try it on you and see if it suits you.”
“But it’s not meant for me,” I said.
“And it’s not often that women like us have an opportunity to look at ourselves in a mirror wearing something like this. May I?”
The clock was ticking—I seriously had no time for this—but then I had to wonder if trying on the necklace was part of the inspection process. Since I didn’t know for sure, I allowed Sophia to put it on me.
“You have such a lovely long neck,” she said as she placed the cool necklace against my skin. “Not unlike Jennifer herself. I’m assuming you’re new at Wenn?”
“Today is my first day. I’m Ms. Blackwell’s new personal assistant.”
“Her new personal assistant? I see. Well, then, you really do deserve the opportunity to see yourself as a princess, don’t you? Even if it is only for a moment.”
Before I could respond to that, she moved my hair to one side, snapped the clasp shut, and then gently lifted my hair so that it fell back down my back. “Now, how about if you turn and have a look in the mirror there on the table. This should certainly brighten your day.”
Why does she think that my day needs to be brightened? Obviously, she knows Blackwell and perhaps has her own issues with her. What other reason could there be for her being so kind to me?
When I looked into the mirror, the necklace took my breath away, which Sophia caught at once.
“You’d think it was made for you,” she said.
“It’s stunning,” I said. And then I smiled at her. “Too bad it isn’t mine. But one can always dream, I suppose.”
“New York can be a place filled with dreams just waiting to come true.”
“That hasn’t exactly happened to me just yet.”
“But who’s to say that it won’t? It did, after all, happen for Jennifer. And for countless other men and women in this city. So, let me take this off so you can get on your way. Would you like a final look?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have the time. And the necklace looks fine, at least to my eyes, so let’s just wrap everything up and see if Ms. Blackwell agrees. I really do need to go.”
When we were finished with the sale, she put the box in a Tiffany bag and arranged for security to walk me to my car. “Assuming you have one,” she said.
“I do. And given what I’m carrying, that’s not such a bad idea.” I stood up to shake her hand again. “Thanks for making me feel like a princess, Sophia. That hasn’t happened often in my life.”
“It was my pleasure,” she said. “Now go and rule the day as one.”
* * *
When I left Tiffany, it was with a massive bodyguard at my side, who walked me through the crowds of people walking along Fifth to the limousine Zack had waiting for me at the curb not far from Tiffany’s doors.
“Thank you,” I said to them both as I stepped through the door Zack held open for me. “And please tell Sophia that she made my day.”
The bodyguard merely nodded at me when I said that and walked away as Zack quickly got into the front seat, started the car, sliced into traffic, and began the trip to Le Salade on Park.
“How did that go?” he asked.
“The woman who helped me actually put the necklace on me. I can’t remember when I’ve been treated so well.”
“You have to know that by doing that, you’ve cost us time.”
“I apologize,” I said. “And I swear that it took only a minute or two.”
“A minute or two might just ruin us,” he said. “So I need you to be prepared to hustle when we make that salad of hers. Because if we’re not back within the hour, I can promise you that both of our heads will roll.”
The guilt that overcame me at that moment was significant. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Blackwell asked me to inspect the necklace, and since I haven’t done anything like this before, I wasn’t sure if putting it on was part of the process. I should have declined.”
“We’re not out of the game just yet,” he said. “Look ahead of us—a string of green lights. We might just make it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
And we did make it, at least to Wenn’s entrance, and with four minutes to spare before the hour was up. After hurrying across the lobby with the bag from Tiffany in one hand and the bag from Le Salade in the other, I stepped into one of the elevators as a group of people exited. When they left, I hit the button for the fifty-first floor, and closed the doors shut by punching another button to speed up the process.
During my ascent, the elevator stopped countless times—over and over again—to the point where I became so frustrated, I wanted to scream. When the elevator finally approached the fifty-first floor, it slowed to a stop, and I knew in my gut that my time was already up. As the doors slid open, I looked down at my watch.
My hour wasn’t only up—I was now five minutes late.
She’s so going to have my head for this, I thought. Why did I ever tell her that I was never late? I should just leave now, sell the jewels, and get out of Dodge.
With an overwhelming sense of trepidation, I left the elevator and hurried toward her office, passing people who looked quizzically at me as I left them in my wake. My heart was racing. Sweat beaded across my brow as I approached her open door.
When I entered her doorway, she looked up at me with a flick of her head, and I could tell by her sour expression that I was in for it.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said.
“You should be, because you are late, which I believe you told me was an impossibility for you. And yet here we are, Madison. Late. Explain that to me.”
She was baiting me for an excuse—she wanted me to make an excuse—so I decided not to make one in an effort to give her less kindling for the fire she was clearly trying to create between us.
“I have none,” I said.
“Really? Well. If there is no excuse, I’m not sure where to begin, or what to say—other than that I’m disappointed.” She eased back in her chair and looked at me as if I were her prey. “You should have been here with the necklace and my lunch five minutes ago.”
“I can promise you that I tried my best.”
“Did you?”
“I did.”
“I need you to close the door right now, Madison—for your own good.”
And here it comes.
I felt my stomach sink, and for a moment, I thought that I might be sick. Was she going to fire me over this? I’d just quit my other job to become her assistant. The fifteen hundred dollars I’d managed to save was a joke when it came to the cost of living in this city. I had bills to pay, food to buy. Even worse, I’d just spent a significant amount of money on an outfit I couldn’t afford in an effort to convince her that
I was the right person for the job. Unless I found another position quickly, she could ruin me financially if she let me go, which made me feel at once claustrophobic and desperate. I closed the door behind me, and when I turned back to look at her, I saw that she had leaned forward and folded her arms on top of her desk.
“If you tried your best to get back here on time, then why did you spend time trying on a necklace that isn’t yours and was never meant to touch your skin?” she asked.
So, there it was—Sophia had sold me out. But why? She’d been so nice to me, it didn’t make sense. And how had Blackwell ever found out about any of it? Had Sophia called her? Or had she called Sophia wondering where I was? I had to believe that it was the latter, if only because my first instinct about Sophia was positive and true. I couldn’t have been that wrong about her, could I?
“You asked me to inspect the necklace,” I said.
“Which never in a million years meant trying it on so you could pretend for a few moments that you were a princess.”
And there it was—that word—princess. The same word Sophia had used when she’d said: Her new personal assistant? I see. Well, then, you really do deserve the opportunity to see yourself as a princess, don’t you? Even if it is only for a moment. And then there was what I had said before leaving the store: Thanks for making me feel like a princess, Sophia. That hasn’t happened often in my life.
Obviously, Sophia had relayed what I’d said to Blackwell. And I had to wonder—had this entire thing been planned between them in advance? Had Blackwell wanted to see if I’d decline Sophia’s offer to put on the necklace? Did she think I’d get some sort of perverse thill from putting it on? With Blackwell just staring at me now and waiting for a response, I knew I had to think quickly on my feet and be honest with her before she decided to be done with me completely.
“Sophia asked me to try on the necklace to see if it suited me. I told her that the necklace wasn’t meant for me, but she nevertheless insisted, so I let her put it on me thinking that perhaps I might be able to tell if there was something wrong with the way it laid around my neck. When you asked me to inspect the necklace, I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant.”
Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) Page 5