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“Summer, your top—”
I nodded, “Yes, I thrifted it. I need to check my form and send it.”
Her dark eyes finally looked at the road as she started driving. I only accepted a driver if we were going to fancy events, and most of the time, she drove me around in the agency car or I took cabs.
“You still haven’t sent the form?” she asked, disappointment lacing her tone. “I told you how important it is.”
I checked the web browser on my phone to find the draft and opened the inbox when I couldn’t find it. “I remember writing the draft—oh.” My eyes widened seeing the confirmation email from Moore. I had already sent it.
I checked the time, and my phone fell in my lap. I sent it the night before when I was shitfaced.
“What did you do?” Heather asked, glancing at me with narrowed eyes.
“Nothing.” I took a deep breath and smoothed my skirt. “I already sent the form.” And it may or may not be full of grammatical errors and some weird stuff because I was desperate-for-money drunk and had no shame.
“Let’s hope they’re more lenient towards the rumors.”
I rolled my eyes. “You clearly haven’t met Damon.”
“I wish I had.” She gave me a hard look before taking a turn. “It would have saved us from the paparazzi waiting at the building.”
I winced. “We should probably go from the back.” Then I added, crossing my arms like a petulant kid, “I didn’t do anything. And neither did he. The paparazzi would start the rumors that I’m pregnant if they could. They’re shit and we both know it.”
“ARE YOU PREGNANT?!”
“What the fuck?” I asked, worried at her bulging eyes. “Of course, I’m not! Jesus. That was a joke.”
She sighed and ran a hand through her short, blunt, straight hair. “You’re going to kill me one day, Summer.” She muttered underneath her breath, “I swear to God, she’s my last client.”
I closed my eyes and leaned back on the seat. I still had a mild headache, but it was better than before. I wished we could make a stop at Dunkin’ Donuts and get some donuts and coffee, but time was of the essence.
Thankfully, we reached our destination in time and went through the back, so there were no cameras or reporters waiting to spread more rumors.
“Summer, you really should check your—” Heather started when we stepped into the elevator.
“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to remember what I wrote in the form,” I said, squeezing my eyes closed and forcing my brain to remember everything from last night.
“But your blouse is—”
“Fuck. I can’t remember.” I cursed and shook my head as the doors opened and we stepped into the enormous building that belonged to my best friend and an asshole. It smelled like candy–chocolate that had a luxurious afternote. I tried not to gawk at the beautiful women walking gracefully in heels or the handsome men in suits. Huge banners of their new product were placed against the walls with large screens playing ads. There was a freaking chandelier in the front lobby.
Who the fuck has a chandelier in the office building? Moore Beauty, that’s who.
“Good morning!” I jumped hearing the bubbly voice of the receptionist as she smiled and did a double take at me. Yeah, I get that a lot.
“Hi, we are here for the ambassador program…,” Heather said, trailing off and giving me a look.
What, woman?
The receptionist, named Layla, said, “Of course! Boss is waiting for you, Ms. Summer. Although… um… I don’t know if I should say it, but your top is—”
I grinned, “I thrifted it. If you want the address of the store, let me know. Which floor did you say it was?”
“Uh…” Layla and Heather shared a look. “It’s the top floor. Second elevator from the hall. It’s private, so you can… you know.”
“Thank you!” I said and walked towards the elevator, my heels clacking against the marble floor.
“Heather, why aren’t you coming with me?” I asked when she didn’t follow.
