what we’d started. I knew he’d easily be the best lay of my life—he’d already won the best kiss category by a landslide. I knew Julian had the ability to obliterate every guy that had come before him. All the quick, cheesy sex I’d had in college, the bad kisses, the lackluster dates—they wouldn’t compare to one night with him.
I studied him as he gathered his things. He pulled his tuxedo jacket back on without a word, shoved the pizza slices back into the box then crumbled it in his hand. He looked so devastatingly handsome, and yet, so defeated. His dimples were tucked away behind a reserved frown. His eyes were downcast, trained on the ground near his feet. He rubbed his jawline as he walked to the door and I followed after him.
He stepped into the hallway, turned over his shoulder, and met my eye. I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest, rip right out from inside of me.
“I’ll see you at work,” he said, offering me a small smile before turning down the hallway.
My mouth opened, but there was nothing I could say to make it better. My words were jumbled in my mind, lost somewhere between “I want you, please stay” and “I’m sorry, you have to go”.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Josephine
I’ll be honest, I’d assumed the job Beth had secured for me would involve being a high class call girl…or at the very least a low class call girl, based on the stinginess she displayed with my dresses.
Luckily for me, the job ended up being much, much cooler than expected, and bonus: I got to wear normal non-stripper clothes. Albeit, a pair of black pants and a t-shirt wasn’t high couture, but for two weeks, I’d get to be behind the scenes of New York Fashion Week. I’d get to be up close and personal with all the top models, designers, and bloggers.
The only problem? I’d be holding a broom or a mop at all times.
Yup. That’s right. Josie Keller would henceforth be known as Night Janitor. Jealous yet?
For ten days, I’d have to bolt from Julian’s hotel at 5:00 PM on the dot and book it to Lincoln Center. I’d have to sneak in the back doors with the rest of the event staff and change into my alter ego, Clark Kent style. There was a small locker room for staff where I’d kick off my heels and slip into converse, slide on a black hat with “NYFW STAFF” embroidered across the front, and grab the broom least likely to break on me.
The pay was terrible, but I didn’t care. I could use the extra money while I continued to hunt for a more permanent night job. I saved every penny I earned except for the $5 I used to splurge on a fresh green smoothie every afternoon on the way from Julian’s hotel to Lincoln Center. (And by green juice, I of course mean chocolate cupcake.)
“Ladies! Ladies, line up, the show is starting in ten minutes!” a stagehand clapped her hands, trying to get everyone’s attention—a nearly impossible feat.
I paused my sweeping and stepped to the back of the room to give the models space to run around me. It was only my fourth day on the job and I’d already learned a lot. No matter how organized the event coordinators thought they were, there was always a mad rush ten minutes before the fashion shows started. Fake eyelashes, sticky boob tape, hairspray bottles, high heels—all flying in the air, trying to find their final destination. I’d been hit in the head by enough bras on my first day to realize that I needed to stay as far away from the madness as possible.
And yet, I still loved every second of it.
I watched a designer waltz through the room with her nostrils flaring. She paused in the center, cupped her hands around her mouth, and yelled at the top of her lungs.
“Models. Get in line now, or I’m going to rip your hair extensions out. So help me god!”
Some of the designers were a tad more pleasant than others…
“You!” a stagehand pointed at me and then waved her hand at the row of salon chairs near the back wall. There was a mess of hair scattered across the floor beneath the chairs. Minutes earlier, a team of stylists had chopped away at extensions to give all the models a similar hairstyle. “Can you pah-lease sweep all that up already? I nearly