salesgirl, reaching out toward Jane in little electrical sparks. Oh no. Jane took a step back. Control, Jane, control. Now was not the time for a magical light show.
Madison stepped back as well, knocking into a toothpick-skinny woman with perfect caramel highlights. The woman glared at Madison before making her way to the wall of jeans. A security guard in all black stood in the corner, his eyes narrowed as they followed the proceedings.
“I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to leave you here for just a minute to check on something.” Madison practically spit out the words and then vanished without waiting for an answer, leaving Jane to stare open-mouthed at the space where she’d been.
“Lynne said it would be fine to use the account,” Jane whispered to no one in particular. Was this Lynne’s idea of a practical joke . . . or payback for taking a job without her consent? For one panicked moment, she thought that the security guard was going to come arrest her for attempted theft, but he seemed to just be shifting his weight. For now.
“Jane?” A throaty voice broke into Jane’s reverie. Jane whirled around to see a thirtysomething woman with pin-straight copper hair bearing down on her with a giant armload of clothes. “I’m Lena, and I’m so, so sorry about Madison’s little meltdown. I’ll be speaking with her supervisor.”
A couple of Nordic-looking blondes giggled by the register, and an iPhone hummed nearby.
“Huh?” Jane had been so prepared to explain about the charge account that no other words came to her.
Lena grabbed a cotton dress off the Loomstate rack without seeming to register her client’s bafflement. Jane trailed along automatically behind her. She couldn’t quite make sense of what was going on, but for the moment it seemed to involve browsing. After rounding the Splendid and Nanette Lepore sections, they sailed along toward the private shopping space.
“This room will be yours.” Lena ushered her inside a well-lit room the size of Jane’s bedroom in Paris. “Try these first.” Her fingers grazed Jane’s as she handed over a blazer and a pair of supertight suede pants from The Row. An explosion of sparks fired in Jane’s brain, and suddenly Lena’s voice felt as though it was shouting directly into her eardrums.
. . . Honestly, I don’t know when Carlos will stop hiring these children. I know that party girls make good backdrops, but is it worth it if they’re going to drag every little personal thing in to work with them? These girls are just too young to have the slightest idea how to separate their jobs from their love lives . . .
Jane gasped and pressed her fingers to her temples.
“Are you all right?” Lena asked, her voice concerned.
The blaring voice in her mind ceased, and Jane was the only person in her own head again. She cleared her throat, trying to get her bearings. “Lena, do you mind if I ask what happened to Madison?”
Lena looked a little chagrined, but opened her mouth to gossip nonetheless. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Madison claims that she dated your charming fiancé for all of three minutes last summer. She managed to convince herself that they were practically engaged, even though it was probably nothing more than a conversation at some nightclub. And then the real thing shows up—can you imagine? I found the girl hyperventilating in the break room.” She handed Jane a featherlight Vince sweater, as an afterthought. “This’ll go under the Marc blazer, Jane, and then, hmmm, you’ll need a good black bra for that. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
Jane slipped the sweater on over her head, then tugged on the blazer. The clothes fit like a dream and looked about a thousand times better than her thrifty attempts to approximate the same looks in Paris, but it was impossible to fully enjoy it. As she examined herself in the mirror, Madison’s boobs loomed large—very large—in her mind, followed quickly by
Madison stepped back as well, knocking into a toothpick-skinny woman with perfect caramel highlights. The woman glared at Madison before making her way to the wall of jeans. A security guard in all black stood in the corner, his eyes narrowed as they followed the proceedings.
“I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to leave you here for just a minute to check on something.” Madison practically spit out the words and then vanished without waiting for an answer, leaving Jane to stare open-mouthed at the space where she’d been.
“Lynne said it would be fine to use the account,” Jane whispered to no one in particular. Was this Lynne’s idea of a practical joke . . . or payback for taking a job without her consent? For one panicked moment, she thought that the security guard was going to come arrest her for attempted theft, but he seemed to just be shifting his weight. For now.
“Jane?” A throaty voice broke into Jane’s reverie. Jane whirled around to see a thirtysomething woman with pin-straight copper hair bearing down on her with a giant armload of clothes. “I’m Lena, and I’m so, so sorry about Madison’s little meltdown. I’ll be speaking with her supervisor.”
A couple of Nordic-looking blondes giggled by the register, and an iPhone hummed nearby.
“Huh?” Jane had been so prepared to explain about the charge account that no other words came to her.
Lena grabbed a cotton dress off the Loomstate rack without seeming to register her client’s bafflement. Jane trailed along automatically behind her. She couldn’t quite make sense of what was going on, but for the moment it seemed to involve browsing. After rounding the Splendid and Nanette Lepore sections, they sailed along toward the private shopping space.
“This room will be yours.” Lena ushered her inside a well-lit room the size of Jane’s bedroom in Paris. “Try these first.” Her fingers grazed Jane’s as she handed over a blazer and a pair of supertight suede pants from The Row. An explosion of sparks fired in Jane’s brain, and suddenly Lena’s voice felt as though it was shouting directly into her eardrums.
. . . Honestly, I don’t know when Carlos will stop hiring these children. I know that party girls make good backdrops, but is it worth it if they’re going to drag every little personal thing in to work with them? These girls are just too young to have the slightest idea how to separate their jobs from their love lives . . .
Jane gasped and pressed her fingers to her temples.
“Are you all right?” Lena asked, her voice concerned.
The blaring voice in her mind ceased, and Jane was the only person in her own head again. She cleared her throat, trying to get her bearings. “Lena, do you mind if I ask what happened to Madison?”
Lena looked a little chagrined, but opened her mouth to gossip nonetheless. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Madison claims that she dated your charming fiancé for all of three minutes last summer. She managed to convince herself that they were practically engaged, even though it was probably nothing more than a conversation at some nightclub. And then the real thing shows up—can you imagine? I found the girl hyperventilating in the break room.” She handed Jane a featherlight Vince sweater, as an afterthought. “This’ll go under the Marc blazer, Jane, and then, hmmm, you’ll need a good black bra for that. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
Jane slipped the sweater on over her head, then tugged on the blazer. The clothes fit like a dream and looked about a thousand times better than her thrifty attempts to approximate the same looks in Paris, but it was impossible to fully enjoy it. As she examined herself in the mirror, Madison’s boobs loomed large—very large—in her mind, followed quickly by
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