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I just stare at that truck full of shoes, dresses, hats, heels and handbags. Mr. Peak walks up behind me and says, “Good thing I brought the big Bentley.”
I turn around and look up at my boss. “I hope I didn’t take too much, Sir.”
“This is the cost of doing business, Sarah.”
The Hermes manager walks out, all smiles, and shakes Mr. Peak’s hand. “It is a pleasure to do business with you. I hope you have a wonderful time in Monaco,” the manager announces.
“We will have an excellent time. Thank you,” Mr.Peak says as he gives the manager a firm handshake.
The manager hands my boss the receipt, printed on an eight by eleven piece of paper. My boss doesn’t even look at the paper. He simply folds it and tucks it into his suit pocket. God. I want to know how much he spent. I want to know so badly but I dare not ask how much my boss just dropped at Hermes.
We get into the car. My boss drives down Rodeo. I look at him for a moment. Then I realize, f**k, I should thank him. “Thank you, Mr. Peak. I can’t believe you purchased all those wonderful things for me.”
“Well, we have one more stop to make,” my boss announces.
“One more stop?” I ask.
“In order to make you stand out in the Monte Carlo Casino, you will have to outshine the other women,” Mr. Peak explains as he pulls up in front of the Cartier store.
Wow. I think I really am going to pass out.
When I get out of the Bentley, my knees literally become weak. I honestly would do my boss right now, in the middle of Rodeo Drive, if he ordered me.
As we approach the Cartier store, a woman opens the door for us and flashes a wide smile. Now, if you have never been to Rodeo Drive before, this kind of behaviorneverhappens to regular human beings. Most of these stores will give you a dirty look if you don’t look like you can afford to shop there. The Cartier manager could not open the door fast enough for Mr. Peak.
“How do you do today?” the Cartier woman asks.
“We are doing fine. My as**sociate, Sarah, will be in Monaco. I want you to make her envied by all the women in the Municipality.”
The Cartier woman doesn’t need to hear another word. She smiles and snaps her fingers. Every as**sociate on the floor comes rushing towards her. Her snapping of the fingers must be some kind of code for,we got a f**king billionaire in our store.
A large white French chair is pulled up for me. They position the chair under the massive candlelit chandelier at the center of the store. A selection of watches, necklaces, earrings and bracelets are displayed before me. I look back at Mr. Peak who watches passively as the sales staff gets to work.
“The first impression is always the most important. People will be looking at your chest,” the woman says as she grabs a case from one of her as**sociates. “And when people lay their eyes on you, they will see this” she announces as she opens the box.
In front of me is the most decadent necklace I have ever seen in my life. The diamonds blind me. The arrangement of the stones are perfect. The Cartier salesgirl places that necklace around my neck. I feel it lock behind me. The woman holds a mirror in front of me. I see that necklace around my neck. Yes, I am sold.
The woman shows me a pair of matching earrings. She places them on me. I feel like a monarch. The women continue to open case after case. They place bracelets on each of my wrists. I am offered another, more subtle necklace, for “casual attire.”
I am shown a watch with dozens of diamonds framing the clock face. “This is our Santos Demoiselle model. I think this would be perfect for Monte Carlo,” the sales girl says as she places it on my wrist.
The Cartier woman extends her hand. I stand up and am presented to Mr. Peak. He looks at me and doesn’t say anything just yet. After a long and tense few seconds, he simply says, “Something is missing.”
Mr. Peak grabs my right hand and tells the Cartier woman, “Rings attract attention.”
The Cartier sales girl nods. Oh my God. Is Mr. Peak about to put a ring on my finger?!
The sales girl comes back with a case. She opens the case. But this time, she opens the caseaway from my eyes. The Cartier girl shows the ring to my boss. “Good,” he says.
Mr. Peak takes the ring from the case and grabs my hand. My boss slowly places the ring on my finger. I begin to melt.
I look at the platinum ring with a rock that makes me hyperventilate. Even the other sales girls seem impressed. My boss reaches into his coat jacket and hands the woman a Black Amex Card. I awkwardly stand there unsure of how I could ever thank Mr. Peak for making me feel like the most special girl in the world.
