The World According to Vince - Jane Harvey-Berrick Page 0,26
did you exchange anything interesting?”
I gave her a jaded look and she shrugged. “A woman has needs.”
“He dropped his false tooth on the table in the restaurant.”
Cady choked on a croissant. “What? Seriously?”
“Yep. It was bright white, perfectly matching the table linens. Playing hunt the tooth was one of the evening’s highlights.”
Cady laughed. “That’s … that’s so Vince!”
I smiled with her. “It wasn’t all bad. And we found the tooth. He was kind of amazing with the partners,” I said thoughtfully. “He even persuaded them to donate $25,000 to the Canine Crusader fashion show. He was so smooth with them. It was … weird.”
Cady cocked her head on one side. “You like him.”
“I don’t hate him. He’s still annoying, but he’s got a good side.”
She raised her eyebrows but didn’t speak.
I shook my head. “No, absolutely not. Don’t even go there.”
“Fine, I won’t. How was your dress fitting?”
That brought a genuine smile to my face. “Fantastic! The fitter even made it look like I have a cleavage!”
“There’s nothing wrong with your girls.”
“Well, I like them, but you have to admit they’re small. Mammograms are hell for someone with small breasts.”
“They’re hell for everyone,” Cady said mildly, as I gazed enviously at her extremely well-endowed chest.
“I’m serious! When I take off my padded bra, the nurses…”
“You wear a padded bra?”
“Only because the air conditioning in my building is so cold,” I said defensively. “But the nurses look at each other as if to say, ‘what are we going to do with those peanuts?’ So they tug hard to try and get some boob to squish, and all they end up with is a mammogram of my nipples! It’s not funny!”
“I’m grimacing in empathy; it’s different from laughing.”
“Not very different, apparently. I have no boobs, no waist and no hips. Half the time, I have to shop in the boys’ department in stores.”
“You have great legs—your legs would give the Pope second thoughts.”
“Ha, well, thanks. I got so fed up of sales assistants asking if I’m clothes shopping for my son that last time I said yes.”
“Really? What happened?”
“I ended up in a very bizarre conversation about which school my non-existent son wants to go to, and which softball team he plays for.”
Cady bust a gut laughing. “That’s hilarious! I hope you said he was a Yankees fan?”
“Ugh! You’re such a wench!”
Just as we were settling the bill, Cady said innocently, “Has Vince said anything to you about the maid of honor / best man dance?”
I froze, then my eyes narrowed as she tossed some bills on the table and ran for the door.
“Cady Callahan, get your ass back here and explain that!” I yelled as she waved from outside, striding down the sidewalk with a huge grin on her face.
I swear my colon clenched in horror at the thought of a maid of honor / best man dance with Vince, the hapless harbinger of doom. It would be a disaster, a very public disaster. Cady was in so much trouble.
And so was I.
I hurried back to my office thinking of a thousand ways to get Cady back for her disloyalty—she was really pushing the best friend code. Could Vince even dance? Because I knew I couldn’t. I barely had a rhythmic bone in my body and found swaying in time to the music a challenge.
My eyes opened wide. No! This was way worse than Vince embarrassing me in public—it was me! I was going to be the one embarrassing him!
Flames of humiliation for the ignominy that hadn’t yet happened shot through my body. I slid on the ice, half wishing for a sprained ankle; a small injury that would prevent dancing and indignity. Or I’d just fake it. I’d have to remember to buy a support bandage later.
Back at the office, Gary shot to his feet the moment I returned, but I was surprised when he followed me into my office, Melissa and Penny crowding in behind him.
“What’s up, guys?”
Gary held out a cream envelope, made from expensive linen paper, and embossed. Melissa had my silver letter opener laid across her palms like an offering.
“It’s from Vogue,” Penny whispered. “Hand delivered.”
I didn’t even pretend not to be excited but still prepared myself for a polite ‘no’, so I had to read the short note twice.
“It’s from the editor’s personal assistant: Anna Wintour is coming to the Canine Crusader Fashion Show!”
Penny looked like she was going to faint, and Gary and Melissa jumped up and down, screeching with excitement.