Blogger Girl

by Schorr, Meredith

  Hannah Marshak.

  CHAPTER 4

  WHAT THE FUCK. Hannah’s ears must have been burning. Why would she friend me on Facebook? We hadn’t exchanged a single word since the summer after senior year in high school when we attended some of the same graduation parties. And it wasn’t like we did keg stands together at those or anything. At best, we exchanged fake pleasantries.

  Without confirming the request, I clicked on her page. Although most of her information was private, I could see that she had 423 friends, also lived in New York City and called herself a writer. Leave it to Hannah Marshak to be confident listing herself as a “writer” before her first book was even published. Since her pictures were public as well, I took a look-see. Still disgustingly skinny with huge boobs. Okay, I had pretty big boobs too and wore a size 0 but it was my natural shape. Hannah was flat-chested and chunky until at least sophomore year in high school and I’d bet my next tax refund that she got a boob job and probably binged and purged to maintain her shape. And what was with the tan? She couldn’t possibly maintain that complexion living in New York without sunless tanning. She was easily as fake on the outside as she was on the inside.

  At least she was single. I’d assumed she married some CPA from Long Island and cheated on him with her tennis instructor. “Whatever.”

  “Whatever what?”

  I looked up to see Nicholas leaning over my desk and his eyes bored into mine. Even in my annoyed state, I instantly felt my face flush as I wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “Oh. I was just mumbling to myself.”

  “Any particular reason or is that typical for you?” Nicholas asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Ha ha. No, I got a friend request from some bitch I went to high school with and it took me by surprise.”

  Nicholas nodded as if he understood. “So what will it be? Confirm or ignore?”

  I sighed. “I really want to ignore it. There’s no love lost there. But my reunion is coming up and that would be kind of messed up, right?” I hoped he’d say no.

  “If you want my honest opinion, the ‘PC’ thing to do is accept the request. You could always hide her newsfeeds or limit what she sees if you really don’t want to engage.”

  I rolled my eyes to indicate that his honest opinion was not what I wanted to hear.

  Grinning he said, “But being ‘PC’ is highly overrated. Ignore the bitch.”

  “I like that idea much better,” I said smiling.

  “I thought you might.” Motioning towards Rob’s office, he said, “Anyone in with him?”

  I wished the answer was “yes” so I could spend more time talking to him. “Nope. Go on in.”

  Nicholas walked away but turned around before he reached Rob’s office. “Let me know what you decide.”

  Even though I figured he was just being polite, I gave him a close-mouthed smile and nodded. “Will do.”

  As I picked up my phone to text Bridget, I heard, “Hey Kim,” and looked up to see David, Rob’s paralegal, walk by.

  “Rob called me in,” he said before pausing outside of Rob’s closed door.

  I motioned towards the door. “By all means. I’m not his bouncer.”

  “With your stature and all, you’d be a force though.” David laughed and then turned bright red as if he thought I’d be offended.

  I flexed my muscles. “Don’t let the height fool you. I can take you down!” I liked David. Rob complained that he’d bill four hours for something that should have taken less than one, but Rob drank two Red Bulls every morning for breakfast after running four miles on the treadmill. And he and his 35-year-old wife had climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro on their last vacation. Compared to him, everyone was slow. And besides, David was always eager to help out and never tried to pull rank on me. Not that it would have gotten him far.

  Less than thirty seconds after David went inside, I heard Rob yell, “Long!” He acted as if he was the only one working on the floor. I hurried to his office, opened the door and sweetly said, “Yes?”

  “I sent you an email with a document attached a moment ago. Can you accept the track changes and send it back to me?”

  From the corner of my eyes, I saw Nicholas look up from his legal pad and over at me. I stood straighter, hoping he liked what he saw. “Of course. But did you need to shout at me from behind closed doors to ask me that? You could have called. Or sent another email.” Rob gave me a mock dirty look while Nicholas and David snickered. “If that will be all?” I asked.

  “That will be all!” Rob said. “Kindly let the door slam you on the ass on the way out.”

  Still laughing when I returned to my desk, I made the track changes as quickly as I could. I had some reading to do and still wanted to tell Bridget about Hannah’s friend request.

  ***

  I couldn’t believe I had an advance review copy (ARC) of Olivia Geffen’s new novel in my possession. Olivia Geffen had already written five New York Times bestselling women’s fiction novels, the first of which had recently been made into a movie. Her books sold themselves, so I was surprised when her publicist asked me to review her latest for Pastel is the New Black. I loved her writing style and was excited to start reading. It was too cold to read outside in Madison Square Park which was a few blocks away from my office building, so I bought some lunch at the firm’s cafeteria and found a table in the dining area. It was kind of loud but thankfully I was used to drowning out distractions.

  I took a bite of my turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich and settled in. I got through three pages before I realized this latest book was not going to be like her others. And I wasn’t sure I was happy about it. I put down my Kindle for a minute and took a sip of water. As I stared ahead, I saw Nicholas rush by with a tray. He was always in such a hurry. “The Glamorous life of an associate,” like he said. I was about to resume reading when he looked my way. We locked eyes and he stopped walking. He approached my table and I smiled.

  “Hey there. Taking a break from the boss?” he asked.

  “Yup. I always take advantage of my lunch hour. I suppose you’re working through lunch?”

  “I was planning to.” He glanced at my Kindle. “Am I disturbing you?”

  “Not at all! Sit.” I would so much rather read between Nicholas’ lines than a book.

  Nicholas sat down and put a napkin on his lap. He looked at my Kindle again and back to me. “You reading for the blog?”

  “Yup. I would have read this book anyway, but the author’s publicist asked me to review it so I have double incentive now.” As I felt my blood pressure rise, I figured it was my body’s reaction to having lunch with my office “lust man” and tried to breathe normally.

  Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “Impressive!”

  I felt myself blush. “Thanks.” I took a dainty bite of my turkey sandwich and a sip of water.

  “I checked it out, you know.”

  I put down my sandwich. “Checked what out?”

  “Your blog.”

  I gulped. “You did?”

  Nicholas smiled. “Yeah. I wondered what all the hoopla was about.”

  “What did you think?” I held my breath.

  “Seriously impressive. Your reviews are really great. Very honest.”

  Nicholas paused to eat some soup. I counted three hearty spoonfuls of what looked like lentil. Then he ate several forkfuls of salad. I watched him in amusement. When he finally came up for air, he smiled. “And some are kind of brutal.”

  “Not brutal. Just honest. I always try to say something nice about every book, to balance out the constructive criticism.” Drawing to mind a book completely lacking in story structure that I had reviewed earlier that month, I added, “Sometimes it’s not that easy, let me tell you.”

  Nicholas smiled softly. “I also read a few of your regular posts. I especially liked the one about juggling your day job with the blog. You’re a great writer. “

  And the blushing continues. “Thanks.”

  Pointing to my Kindle
, he said, “What do you think of the book you’re reading now?”

  “Well, I’ve only read three pages but…” I crinkled my nose. “I don’t think I’m gonna like it, which surprises me because I loved all of Olivia Geffen’s other books.”

  “Yeah, she’s great!” Nicholas said in delight.

  “You’ve read her stuff?” I found that surprising since Nicholas hadn’t even heard the term “chick lit” until the Squad happy hour and also, well, because Nicholas was a guy.

  “Of course, I have! What was that one?” Nicholas scratched his chin. “The one with the pink cover?”

  “Swimming Upstream! That was my favorite!”

  “Mine too!” Nicholas said.

  “I love the way she…” Noticing the twinkle of mischief in his eyes, I stopped talking and studied him. “You never read Swimming Upstream, did you?”

  Nicholas shook his head. “No.”

  “Have you read anything by Olivia Geffen?”

  Nicholas pursed his lips and shook his head again. “That would be another no.”

  I reached over and slapped him lightly on the hand. “You’ve never even heard of her, have you?”

  Chuckling, he said, “No, I haven’t.”

  “You suck!” I giggled.

  “Sorry, but I couldn’t resist. Are you always so gullible?”

  Feeling myself blush again, I said, “Not usually, no. You must be really good.”

  Nicholas locked eyes with me. “I am.”

  Blushing harder, I took a sip of my water.

  Gesturing towards my Kindle, he said, “So, why don’t you like this one?”

  “Too serious. Her other books were more light reading. Not completely frivolous, but more escapism. I like books that make me laugh, not cry. Unless I’m crying tears of happiness. I’m only on the third page and one of the characters has cancer.” I shrugged. “I feel like many of the well-established authors in the genre are moving away from fun ‘chick lit’ towards deeper women’s fiction and I don’t like it. There are already plenty of authors who write deeper fiction very well like Jodi Picoult and Anita Schreve, but there are few who can write with a humorous tone like Geffen and it bothers me when they change their style.” I stopped, realizing I was babbling about chick lit again, but Nicholas had not removed his eyes from mine the entire time I spoke and he appeared to be genuinely interested.

  Nicholas gazed at me with focus. “Wow. You sure are passionate about books, huh?”

  “I guess.” I laughed. “Much more interesting than litigation, no offense.”

  “None taken.” Nicholas’ eyes scanned the length of my face. “So, three pages in and already thumbs down? Do you always form opinions so early?”

  I smiled at him coquettishly. “Are we talking strictly books here?”

  Nicholas grinned. “I actually was. But I can already tell you’re an opinionated person. Wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.”

  “How do you know you’re not already?” I flirted.

  Raising his eyebrows, he said, “Um, don’t think you’d let me infringe on your lunch hour and precious reading time if I was.”

  “You got me! But a girl can change her mind, so don’t mess with me.” I smiled and our eyes locked but I couldn’t bring myself to hold the gaze and quickly looked down at my sandwich. I took a bite even though I could barely taste what I was eating.

  “I wouldn’t dare.” Nicholas looked at the empty plates on his tray and stood up. “I should get back to work. Thanks for letting me crash your lunch hour.”

  Damn him for being such a fast eater. “Anytime,” I said. Really, anytime.

  “If I don’t see you beforehand, have a great weekend.”

  “You too,” I said, a little sad that I wouldn’t see him for two days. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I was dreading the weekend, but I doubted I’d have my usual case of the Sunday night blues knowing I’d see him again on Monday.

  “Use the time to make a decision about the high school bitch. In the meantime, make her suffer.”

  I winced at the mention of Hannah. “Somehow, I doubt she’s giving it much thought at all.”

  Nicholas winked. “You never know. Don’t sell yourself short. See ya.” And with that, I watched him walk away.

  Usually when people used the word “short” in front of me, it turned into a tease-fest, but Nicholas didn’t seem to make the connection. I wondered if he was as nice as he seemed or if it was an act. Part of me hoped it was an act because if he was as nice as he was sexy, he truly was the perfect guy and he probably wanted the perfect girl. I definitely did not qualify for that position. His ex-girlfriends were probably all gorgeous super model types or really brainy heart surgeons. I was merely your average secretary-next-door with a nice rack.

  Don’t sell yourself short, Kim. I looked at my watch. I still had ten minutes to finish my sandwich and read a few more pages. Too bad I wasn’t very hungry anymore and already didn’t like the book.

  CHAPTER 5

  I TOOK A SIP of my pinot grigio and scanned the menu. I already knew I wanted to share the artichoke pizza and the avocado and artichoke salad with Bridget. We had both been “artichoke whores” since junior high school, when Bridget’s mom made roasted artichokes for a party she was hosting for her mahjong group. The addiction grew even stronger once we moved to the city and tried the famous artichoke and spinach dip at Houston’s restaurant. The name of the restaurant had since changed to Hillstone but to our relief, the dip recipe remained intact.

  “What time is she getting here?” my friend Caroline asked.

  I put down the menu and looked toward the hot pink entrance of Gina La Fornarina, a very “girls’ night” friendly Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side. “She should be here any minute. In the meantime, what’s up with you?”

  Caroline flipped her shoulder length straight blonde hair. “Absolutely nothing. Work is incredibly busy and it’s all I really have time to do.” She took a sip of her wine. “Happy to have a night off!” Caroline was vice president of a financial company. Although she shared the title with a slew of other people, her workload was all her own.

  “Have you visited your dad lately?” I asked.

  Caroline shook her head and frowned. “Nope. Been working weekends.” Her face brightening, she said, “But I’m off tomorrow and heading upstate in the morning. I can’t wait to see the little guy.” Caroline’s parents had divorced when she was younger and her dad had recently married a much younger woman who had gotten pregnant on their honeymoon.

  “I can’t even imagine having a four-month-old brother at my age!”

  “Believe it or not, it’s easier to cope with a brother who is thirty years younger than me than a stepmother who is only two years older.” Caroline shook her head in bewilderment.

  “Yeah, that must be awkward,” I agreed. I silently prayed that my happily married parents would stay that way so I would never find myself in the same situation.

  “So, read anything good lately? I saw your review of Gladly Never After. Already ordered a copy from Amazon.”

  “You’ll like it. Reading Geffen’s newest now.”

  Caroline’s eyes opened wide. “No way! It’s coming out this summer, right? I can’t wait!” she squealed. Caroline loved chick lit as much as I did but she also read the occasional cozy mystery. We had met a few years earlier at a book club meeting and found out that we had more in common than similar taste in books. She was only a few years older, also had an annoying younger sister with a seemingly perfect life (in addition to the aforementioned half brother) and, like me, was currently boyfriendless. Physically, however, we had nothing in common. At 5’8”, she literally towered over me.

  “Not really loving it, to be honest.” I had read almost half of it earlier that day and still wasn’t thrilled. I was about to go into more detail when I saw Bridget enter the restaurant. I sucked in my breath. Although I barely remembered my life pre-Bridget, every once in a while it hit me how stun
ning she was, mostly when she substituted her usual attire of cargo pants and T-shirts she collected from various rock concerts for more trendy pieces. Tonight she was wearing dark blue skinny jeans, a form-fitting glittery grey top and matching high grey boots. Her long cherry red hair, normally up in a messy ponytail, cascaded down to her chest in curls and she had done her makeup to emphasize her emerald colored eyes.

  When she saw us, she waved and hurried to the table. Out of breath, she said, “I’m so sorry I’m late. I missed every light from my apartment to here.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You live around the corner.”

  Sitting down next to Caroline, she said, “It didn’t help that I was already running late.” Eyeing the bottle of wine chilling next to the table, she asked, “Is that what I think it is?”

  Caroline said, “Yes! It’s Ramona’s wine from Real Housewives of New York. We couldn’t resist.”

  The three of us watched that show religiously. Ramona was always drinking pinot grigio, so she launched her own line. She was a regular patron of Gina’s, which I assumed was why they had it on the menu. I poured her a glass. “Try it. It’s pretty good.” I looked her up and down admiringly. “You look incredible by the way.”

  Bridget shrugged. “I haven’t left my apartment much lately. I figured I’d go all out.”

  “Oh, to be able to work from home!” Caroline said, looking at Bridget with envy.

  “Yeah, working in my pajamas is quite awesome. Only time I need to dress for work is when I meet with clients and we almost always do that with Skype anyway.” Bridget blushed. “I usually change out of my pajamas before I Skype though.”

  “Usually huh?” I joked. “I seem to recall you wearing your pjs and sipping a martini when you designed Pastel is the New Black. I guess I didn’t get the royal client treatment, huh?”

  Bridget narrowed her eyes at me. “Well, clients who get the royal treatment actually pay me for my web design services.” She smiled. “Speaking of which, I got another request from one of your author friends. Thanks for sending all of that business my way! I can pay my mortgage each month almost entirely because of your referrals.”