billion book
6
I parked a few blocks away from Starbucks, not wanting to waste any more time to look for a better spot, and I hauled ass inside. The line was at least twenty people deep, and it wrapped around the whole back of the shop.
She’s going to kill me.
The second I got in place, my phone began to vibrate from inside my purse. If I pulled it out, I imagined there would be multiple texts, missed calls, voice mails, all from my sister, asking where I was.
She was high-maintenance, demanding, and extremely argumentative, a snarky attitude that just wouldn’t let you win, so there was no reason to even try. Growing up with her had been an adventure, but having to work with her every day, in this proximity, was an entirely new level of intensity.
I still had no idea how she’d convinced me to leave my favorite city and the job that I loved so much to move here and be her bitch.
Eighteen months younger than her, I had come out of the womb, knowing how to tolerate her behavior. But apparently, I was the only one who could.
Because her last five assistants had quit.
After the final one had abandoned her, she’d begged me to come work for her.
I didn’t know what point had eventually sold me, but I was six weeks in.Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.
“Ugggh,” the guy in front of me groaned. “This line is barely moving.” He checked his home screen again, looking at the time or his messages-something he’d done less than a minute ago.
“Right?” I agreed. “I need a magic wand and a miracle. I’m”-I glanced at my watch-“fifteen minutes late to an extremely important meeting.”
He turned toward me, his bangs dangling so low in his eyes that I wanted to sweep them behind his ear. “Is it with anyone worth bragging about?” His tie was black and sharp, his eyelids rimmed with a smoky liner that looked far better than the makeup I had on.
“What do you mean?”
He assessed me like he was a wholesale buyer and I was walking down a runway. “How long have you lived here?”
“Not even two months.”
“I can tell.” He held out his hand. “Charlie, but I prefer Charlize because I’m fabulous like that.”
I smiled, loving him already. “Kendall.”
“So, Kendall, is your meeting with someone fancy?”
I shrugged. “My sister and some of her team.”
“If she’s anyone we’ve all heard of, I’m going to teach you something very important that you need to use to your advantage while you work in this town.”
“She’s Daisy Roy, a reality TV star.”
“Daisy Roy,” he repeated. “You mean, the chick who’s in the show Single Girls of LA and whose face is on that billboard?” He pointed out the window, where there was a giant photograph of Daisy smiling with a beer clasped in her hand-now the newest spokeswoman for that beverage company.
I nodded. “Yep, the one and only.”
“Giiirl, watch this.” He moved to the side of the line, so he’d have a full view of everyone standing in it, and said, “Hey, guys, we have a 911 over here.” He waited until most of the people looked in his direction before he continued, “This here is Daisy Roy’s sister, and she was sent to get Daisy some coffee, stat, for an audition she has in five. Do you think we can do her a solid and let her cut?”
“Only if you can get me a date with your smoking-hot sister,” a guy replied.
“If you buy my coffee, I’ll happily let you squeeze in,” a woman said from the front.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I replied to her, and then I looked at Charlize. “Dinner, drinks, whatever-it’s all on me.”
“Don’t think I’m not taking you up on that.” He urged me toward my new position and added, “I’ll find you on Instagram.”
“Search Daisy’s account, she only follows a few people and I’m one of them,” I said to him before I reached the counter. I gave the barista my order and pointed to the lady behind me. “I’ll also pay for whatever she’s having.”
As I took out my credit card, I saw my phone lighting up with more texts, and I scrolled through my messages while I waited for the drinks.
Daisy: Why didn’t you tell me you were running late?
Daisy: Where are you?
Daisy: Are you REALLY doing this to me? Is THIS what I pay you for?
Daisy: I can’t believe you’re not here yet …
Daisy: ANSWER ME. WHERE ARE YOU?
Daisy: Twenty minutes. Are you fucking kidding me?
Daisy: You’re officially dead to me. Or fired. I can’t tell which one would give me more satisfaction right now. There’s literally smoke coming out of my ears. WHY THE HELL AREN’T YOU HERE?
A new notification came in, this one from Instagram, a Charlize Frank requesting to follow my private account. I glanced toward the back of the line, and he was grinning at me, waving.
I hit Accept just as one of the baristas yelled, “Kendall!”
Knowing it was best not to respond to my sister-a text at this point would only make her angrier-I grabbed the two coffees and hurried toward the door, thanking everyone I passed in line. When I reached Charlize, I told him I’d be in touch and headed down the sidewalk toward The Agency, the large high-rise at the end.
This was the second time I would be meeting her agent-her manager and lawyer would also be in attendance today-to discuss some of the contracts she’d recently been offered. I just hated that I was running so behind, making myself look like an unprofessional degenerate in front of her team.
Late, like one-night stand, was another word that wasn’t part of my vocabulary.
“I’m here for Daisy Roy’s meeting,” I said to the receptionist, winded by the time I reached her desk.
“Tenth floor.” She pointed at the elevators to my right. “When you get off, take a left, and the conference room is the last door at the end. You’ll find them all inside.”
“Thank you.”
I slid into an elevator just as the doors were closing and tried to prepare myself for the lashing I was about to get.