Annihilate Me

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Annihilate Me Page 14

by Christina Ross


  “Apparently, someone who is tired of being me. Or, at the very least, that side of me. Not the root of who I am. I’d never change that for anyone. But he’s awakened something inside of me. That’s for sure.”

  “What was it like?”

  “After the eighth or tenth orgasm?”

  “In one night?”

  “No, between those two days, silly.”

  “Poor baby.”

  “Nobody’s frowning here.”

  “How was he?”

  “I have nothing to compare him to, but I’d say he knows exactly what he’s doing. It was wonderful. I’m glad that I waited as long as I did. It made it more meaningful, especially because he knew that at my age, I wasn’t giving myself away lightly. He understood that, and he respected it. But now things are weird.”

  “How so?”

  I told her about guards appearing out of nowhere and all that unspooled from that moment, which culminated in us leaving Maine five days sooner than expected.

  “Something’s going on,” she said. “Did he tell you what it was?”

  “Not a word.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s private. I’m a private person, so I respect his privacy. And we’ve only been together a short while, so he really owes me nothing, especially went I won’t commit to being his girlfriend. Am I worried for him? Absolutely. Has it affected my mood? Sure it has. Am I disappointed that I wasn’t able to spend the full seven days with him? Yep. But that’s just me being selfish, which I pretty much need to get over if we’re going to be together.”

  “When are you seeing him again?”

  “I told him that once I had proofed your book, I’d be available to see him. There are two people in my life, Lisa—you and him. I’m not going to let you down.”

  She took a sip of her martini and turned to look at me on the sofa as she tucked her legs beneath her slender body. When she spoke, her tone was serious. “Jennifer, if you continue on with him, we’ll still be best friends until the last zombie drops, but you need to be realistic about this. I am. I know that if you two become closer, I will have less and less time with you, just as you had with me when I was involved with my hideous exes. And I’m fine with that because it makes me happy that you’ve finally found someone. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I’ll never not worry about you.”

  “Fine. Then worry about me, but live your life. You know me. I’m a springboard. And I’m actually feeling that enough time has passed for me to start thinking about dating again.”

  I brightened at that. “You know, I asked Alex if he had any friends he might introduce you to.”

  “Oh no you didn’t.”

  “Oh yes I did.”

  “Are they as hot as he is?”

  “Who knows? What I do know is that good-looking guys tend to hang out with good-looking guys. We’ve seen that time and again. They’re drawn to each other, like a Chippendale to a flame.”

  “An odd way to put it, but an indisputable fact.”

  “He mentioned one guy named Michael.”

  “What does he do?”

  “No idea. But Alex did say that this Michael guy is way over the dating scene, and he wants what Alex wants—a relationship. He’s looking for the right woman, but not finding her.”

  “Sign me up!”

  “Alex suggested that we four have dinner at some point.”

  “I’m down with it.”

  “But we need to get your book out first. Are you happy with it?”

  She blushed, but she usually did when she spoke about her own work, especially if she was pleased with it. “I think it’s good.”

  “When can I read it?”

  “You can read it now on your Kindle.”

  “How can I read it on my Kindle when I haven’t proofed it yet?”

  “OK, so here we go. When Blackwell arrived the first morning, she saw the manuscript on our old coffee table. Without even asking me, she read a few pages and asked me if I’d like her to give it to one of the editors at Wenn Publishing. She said she’d have it copy edited and proofed with comments within twenty-four hours. And she did—I got it back yesterday. Whoever she gave it to was amazing and thought of things I hadn’t thought of. I worked all last night to make changes and then I uploaded the book late, late, last night. It’s now live on Amazon.”

  “Two days, and the whole world changes.”

  “Are you upset that I didn’t let you read it first?”

  “Lisa, you just had a professional editor edit your book for you. No, I’m not upset. I’m thrilled for you. That just doesn’t happen to most independent authors. I can’t wait to read it. How is it doing?”

  “Last I checked, it was climbing the list, so we’ll see. I don’t want to look again until later today. I just need to chill out about it now and let it do its thing.”

  “I’m proud of you. That’s a big accomplishment.”

  “Now, I need to start the next one. As in tomorrow.”

  “And I need to call Blackwell to thank her for all that she’s done here, and also for being kind enough to make that happen for you. Give me a second.”

  I went into the kitchen and pulled my phone out of my handbag. I scrolled through my contacts, found Blackwell’s direct line, and called it.

  She answered on the second ring.

  “Jennifer,” she said.

  “Hello, Ms. Blackwell.”

  “I’m sorry about Maine.”

  “So, am I.”

  “I’ve talked to Alex, and I know he’s determined to make it up to you.”

  “It’s not necessary.”

  “Yes, it is. And we both know it, so let’s just be honest with each other and leave it at that. How do you like your apartment?”

  “That’s one of the reasons I’m calling. You have the most amazing taste. I can’t tell you how unexpected this was or how lovely it is. I know you worked very hard to accomplish what you accomplished. I wanted to thank you personally for that.”

  “It was my pleasure. You know I love style—whether it’s squeezing that ass of yours into couture, or designing your apartment for you. Doesn’t matter. It’s in my blood. I couldn’t bear the thought that you’d end up with some bullshit crap from Crate & Barrel. God! I’m assuming you noticed a few touches that I had nothing to do with?”

  “I did.”

  “He might be preoccupied now, but he’s thinking of you. You need to know that.”

  I wanted to ask her what was preoccupying him, but I didn’t. That would put her in a tough spot, and frankly, it needed to come from Alex himself. “I also wanted to thank you for what you did for Lisa.”

  “Also my pleasure. Those editors over at Wenn Publishing mostly just sit on their asses and dream about writing their own books, which will never happen. It’s pathetic. They’re lazy motherfuckers. I wanted to give one of them some work, and I have to say that she came through. I hope Lisa was happy with the finished product.”

  “She was thrilled.”

  “Perfect. She’s a nice girl. And by the way, I’m glad you called, because I was going to call you. Alex has an opportunity to go to an event tonight. He’d like you to join him. Are you free?”

  My excuse to say no had been taken away from me—Lisa’s book was edited and now online. But I was exhausted and couldn’t imagine going through the maelstrom of shopping that was required for these events. I told Ms. Blackwell so.

  “I’ve got that covered,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Silly girl. With two dresses behind you, I now have your measurements. I made phone calls. I now have a whole rack of dresses and gowns right here for you. Also, shoes. Wait until you see the shoes. They are divoon, divoon, divoon. All you need to do is come to me at, say, six tonight, and we’ll find something suitable. Bernie is on standby to do your hair and makeup because he adores you. And then you can be with Alex tonight, which I think is important.”

&nbs
p; “You do love to meddle, don’t you?”

  “I’m just encouraging what I believe should happen, Jennifer. There’s a difference.”

  “What’s the event?”

  “It’s a birthday celebration for Henri Dufort.”

  “The businessman?”

  “To put it lightly. Dufort is into everything, particularly emerging media, which is one of the places where Wenn wants to grow. Alex has been trying to get a moment alone with Dufort for months, but the man is so busy, he’s unreachable. This could be Alex’s moment. He thinks you might be able to help.”

  “He didn’t mention any of this to me this morning.”

  “That’s because he didn’t know anything about it until he got back. Naturally, he’s going to the party. He has to. He said he’d like you to go with him. Will you?”

  “Why didn’t he call me himself?”

  “He’s busy right now. Will you come?”

  “I work for Wenn,” I said. “Of course I will. I’ll see you at six.”

  “Thank you,” Blackwell said. “And Jennifer. Don’t you dare eat anything before you get here.”

  “I was considering a bag of chips.”

  “If you do, I will personally get in my car—”

  “—and eating a large pizza—”

  “—and drive over—”

  “I’m just joking. I’ll see you soon.”

  I hung up the phone and stood in the kitchen. And the day just keeps getting stranger, I thought.

  I told Lisa what was happening, grabbed my martini, went into my bedroom, and started the computer on the desk that faced a window overlooking the Park. Once online, I Googled everything I could about Henri Dufort. And as I read article after article, what I learned about him and his media empire not only gave me insight into the man and what drove him to create his empire, but also into possible ways for Wenn to partner with him—if the right kind of deal was struck in such a way that it appealed to Dufort’s beginnings as a young entrepreneur.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  After arriving by limo at Wenn, I went to Blackwell’s offices on the fifty-first floor, and found her sitting at her desk crunching a mouthful of ice.

  “Sorry,” she said after she swallowed. “Dinner.”

  “So healthy of you.”

  “So smart of me. You should learn.”

  I shook my head at her as she sprang out of her seat and came over to me.

  “Turn around,” she said.

  I turned around.

  “You look good. I went through two sleepless nights thinking that you were in Maine eating deep-fried everything. All the dresses I ordered for you were custom made to your previous measurements. Not your post-Maine measurements. I thought for sure you’d come back fat. I’m telling you, I couldn’t sleep thinking what you were doing to your body.”

  “I also had a few sleepless nights,” I said. “If we were girlfriends, I’d tell you exactly what was done to my body.”

  She pointed her finger at me. “You’re a wicked girl, Jennifer Kent. And wipe that smile off your face—that’s just too much information. I can deal with a lot, but I can’t deal with that. I told you he’s like a nephew to me.” She lifted her eyes to meet mine. “And he also happens to be ecstatic that you agreed to go with him tonight.”

  “Why wouldn’t I go? With Lisa’s book finished, I’m essentially free. He’s my employer. Of course I’d go with him.”

  She sat on the edge of her desk. “What’s upsetting you?”

  “You know what’s upsetting me.”

  “Some things Alex just needs to deal with on his own.”

  “I understand that.”

  “No. I don’t think you do.”

  “There were guards there. Naturally, I’m worried about him.”

  “I understand that. But Alex is an adult, and he’ll take care of what’s preoccupying him. Look. If you’re going to be in a relationship with him, you’re going to need to give him time to acclimate and be patient with him along the way, just as he is being patient with you. In a way, this also is new to him. It’s been four years since Diana’s death. If you think you’re the only one taking a risk with your heart, I’m here to tell you that’s not the case. He also is. You’re not alone in this, so stop behaving as if you are. Don’t forget that.”

  “Sometimes, I wish I had your perspective on life.”

  “That will never happen.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “But if I’m being completely honest? Sometimes, I wish I had your looks. But we can’t have it all, now can we?”

  “Probably not.”

  “That’s the wisest thing that’s come out of your trap since you got here.”

  “Can we go and look at the dresses?” I asked, wanting to change the subject. “I’m dying to see what you’ve been up to.”

  “You are going to die. The sheer art of couture doesn’t even come close to describing what I’ve had tailored for you. Come this way. Into your changing room. It’s all there, including the shoes.”

  I followed her into the conference room we used as a makeshift dressing and makeup room.

  “Is this birthday party a high-end affair?”

  “High end? You have no idea how high end. Everyone will be there, and by that, I mean anyone who matters in New York at this very moment. To Henri, that number comes down to just one hundred people, which means he has snubbed and pissed off thousands of others. Not that he cares. His guests were invited to bring one guest each. So, expect a crowd of two hundred, half of which you’ll know on sight because of that business mind of yours. To date, this will be, by far, the most influential crowd you’ll interact with. You’ll need to be quick. Potential deals will be everywhere tonight, particularly the one he wants to make with Dufort. Alex is really going to be leaning on you. Not only to help him with Dufort, but also to think fast on your feet if you see a potential relationship for Wenn with someone else on that rooftop.”

  “Rooftop?”

  “The party is being thrown on the top of Dufort’s building on Fifth. He has the full-floor penthouse, and, since he owns the building, he also owns the rooftop. And just wait until you see that rooftop. It’s been turned into one of the most glorious gardens in the city. There will be flowers and foliage everywhere. Dramatic lighting. Enviable views of the city. Intoxicating.”

  “Now I’m excited.”

  “The dresses and the shoes should excite you.”

  “They do. And so does the idea of that rooftop. But none of it excites me as much as making deals on the fly. That’s the life I’ve always wanted. I want to leave now.”

  “Obviously, you’ll have to wait.” She plucked a dress from the rack beside her and held it up to me. “Here. I think it’s this one.”

  It was a simple yet elegant black dress with beautiful lines but no frills. It was nothing like the Gatsby dress. No sparkle. Very little glamour. Nothing about it drew attention to itself, with the possible exception of the sexy, plunging neckline.

  “Why so plain?” I asked.

  She looked affronted. “Plain? It’s not plain. It’s understated.”

  “Then why so understated?”

  “Because tonight, you’re a businesswoman. A successful one. Your hair with be done up in a loose chignon, and your makeup with be subtle, save for the lip, which will be bright red because you do, after all, want to receive some attention. The only jewelry you’ll wear are these.”

  She opened two boxes for me from Tiffany. In one was a pair of large diamond studs. In the other was a lovely tennis bracelet. Both had the sort of brilliant stones that would suggest I’d achieved a large measure of success. But with nothing at my neck or on my fingers, I’d look less like someone festooned for Alex, and more like the savvy businesswoman I’d always wanted to become.

  “You’re a genius,” I said.

  “You think I don’t know that? Here, try it on. Bernie sera ici dans un instant.”

  “How was that?”
/>   “Bernie will be here in a moment. Didn’t you learn French in school? Jesus. Get undressed. Come on. I’ve got to shovel you into a pair of Spanx. I can only hope the ice I had for dinner will give me the necessary strength to do that job.”

  * * *

  Later, when Bernie was finished, he stepped away from me. I looked in the mirror and smiled at what I saw, and then I saw him and Blackwell standing behind me. Blackwell nodded, and I stood.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “Perfection,” Bernie said. “I love it, Jennifer.”

  “Turn to me,” Blackwell said. “That’s right. Now, let me see your back. Good. Turn to the side. Now turn back to me.” She brought a hand to her chest. “Well,” she said. “That is perfect. She looks lovely. Look what we created, Bernie. Just enough of her tits are bared to capture the attention of any straight man in the group, but everything else is concealed so she can work her business magic. Or whatever it is that she does. This is the best yet. Even the gays will love it. What’s most important is that this says she is serious about her work. This says she came to play ball without being threatening or emasculating.”

  “I am here in the room,” I said.

  “Stop being so sensitive while we admire you. And look,” Blackwell said to me as she turned to a table behind her. “I didn’t forget it this time. I have a small army of clutches to match every dress on that rack. Here you are. Small and black and made in the same fabric as your dress. And don’t think I didn’t have to hustle for that to happen, because I did. But it’s all worth it. You’re chic in your couture. I have to say, doing this is one of the best parts of my day when it happens. I love it.”

  “You’re a fashionista,” Bernie said to her.

  “I can feel the tug of that calling—it’s been there since I was a child when I eschewed that awful Sears department store my mother favored for the Bloomingdales that was just down the street.”

  “How did you ever cope?” asked Bernie.

  “It was terrible, but I try not to analyze it. It’ll only make me hate my mother more.”

  “You have an eye that few can match.”

  “It’s been said before, but who am I to judge my own work?”

 

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