AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes! Wait, what? No. I didn’t want it in my hand.”
“In your mouth, then. I can understand that. I mean, I’ve seen the guy.”
I put my fingers to my temple and massage the headache blooming right behind my eyes. “Kind of missing the point here, babe.”
She looks amused. “Am I? Because I’m starting to think I’m the only one around here paying attention.”
“Paying attention to what? Please enlighten me how my co-worker picking up chicks in some gross bar bathroom has any relevance to my life.”
Ariana pantomimes putting on an imaginary pair of glasses. Oh god. Here comes Mistress Ana. Whenever she wants to lecture me on something she thinks is for my own good, she morphs into this parody of what she thinks a college professor looks like. Mind you, Ari looks more like a dominatrix type of Mistress than a college professor but she doesn’t care. And invariably, I end up laughing my ass off so I don’t even mind that she’s butting into my business.
“First, this is relevant because it upset you. Don’t bother denying it, I can tell. You have no poker face whatsoever.”
I want to object but years of experience have taught me that what she says is true. Honesty is the best policy, not just because it’s the right thing to do but also because I can’t pull off anything else.
She holds up two fingers. “Second, it’s important because it was unprofessional and men shouldn’t be able to get away with doing this shit. Can you imagine if a woman tried that at a work event?”
I’m nodding along now, what she’s saying echoing everything that I was thinking earlier. Here I am busting my ass, doing everything I can to prove to James that I’m competent, and my biggest competitor is getting laid at a company event. What the hell?
“And third and most important,” Ari continues, “is that you wish it had been you.”
Before I can respond with what could have been a well thought out, reasonable rebuttable, Mistress Ana levels me with the craziest pair of crazy eyes. “No poker face, remember.”
I huff but I let it go.
Honesty is seriously overrated.
5
I can do this. I can do anything I put my mind to.
I am strong.
I am brave.
I repeat the words softly, hoping repetition really is the key. For the past week, the atmosphere at Mirage has been focused on one thing and one thing only. The Vegas meeting. We’ve all been working longer hours, doing research on Lavin Fashions last five collections and preparing example dossiers of our work on other fashion brands. It’s been exciting and I’m thrilled to have this opportunity. I will not allow something like a slight fear of flying to ruin this for me. So I buckle my seatbelt and close my eyes all the way through takeoff. There’s a slight bump as the wheels come up and I let out a small squeak.
Oh screw being brave.
My fist clenches in a death grip around the rubber plastic cow that is the only thing standing between me and a complete nervous breakdown in the middle of this airplane.
Not that these are bad accommodations for a first time trip to the looney bin. I’ve never been on a private plane before but I can’t imagine anything more luxurious than this. The seats are covered in dove gray leather and the carpet on the floor is more plush than what’s in my apartment. Gleaming gold accents adorn the arm rests and the trim overhead. Andre Lavin has the same impeccable taste in personal aviation as he does in everything else.
Unfortunately it’s all wasted on me. It’s my first time flying like a rock star and I’m two seconds away from curling up in the fetal position in the middle of the aisle.
A toothy flight attendant leans down to offer me a drink but honestly I’m afraid to even pry my lips apart to turn it down. So I give a tense nod and she continues on her merry way down the aisle, offering drinks to everyone as if we aren’t all in danger of plunging thousands of feet to a fiery death. I squeeze my eyes shut and start counting.
Breathe, Mya.
“Nervous flyer, huh?”
My eyes pop open at the deep baritone in my ear. Milo has switched seats with Wallace and is now entirely too close for comfort. The last thing I need is my competition seeing my weakness.
“What makes you say that?” I’m going for nonchalant but my voice sounds about three octaves higher than usual.
Milo inclines his head toward my lap. “The death grip you have on Miss Moo there.”
