The other three file into the elevator, chatting with each other and shooting amused glances in my direction.
It’s the death of my dream. I know that, but I can’t let it end like this. I step back and let the elevator door shut. Thérèse looks at me warily.
“I know I don’t have the job,” I blurt. She cocks her head to the side with a blank look on her face and doesn’t contradict me. “I completely understand. I just wanted to apologize for being late, and for my appearance. I didn’t show up here looking like this because I don’t care. I do care. I love coming to Hudson’s. I’ve been coming here since I was six to look at the Christmas displays. My parents used to take me to New York every Christmas and we’d come here as a treat, until…” I trail off. Until my mom got sick and we had no money for anything.
“Anyway. I woke up early, and I even arranged for a cab so I could make sure I’d get here on time and not wrinkle up my outfit on the subway. Unfortunately, my taxi was stolen by an insufferably arrogant jerk in a fancy suit, and what with rush hour, I couldn’t find another one. I ran the whole way here. Twenty blocks.” I gesture at my outfit, making a wry face. “You can see the results. But I know I made a terrible first impression, and I am sorry for that.”
Her eyes shine in unexpected sympathy. “I understand. We all have bad days. And I hate men like that. New York has too many of them.” She says it with a particular vehemence, as if she’s encountered more than a few. Or as if she’s thinking of one in particular.
I nod. “You know, Hell’s Kitchen doesn’t usually attract that type. But this guy has been hanging around there for the past few weeks for some construction project, and this morning he actually cut in line at the coffee cart, and then he grabbed my cab. I was standing there yelling ‘That’s my cab!’ and he just threw a whole bunch of money at me…well, at my doorman, to give to me. And he got in the cab and left.” I mutter under my breath “Dove-Gray-Dickweasel.”
Apparently I didn’t mutter quietly enough.
“Your cab was stolen by an arrogant ass of a man in Hell’s Kitchen, this morning? A man who patronizingly bestowed money on you like a knight tossing coins at a peasant? A man in a dove gray suit?” For some reason, she’s staring over my shoulder as she says it. “Excellent observation, by the way. It shows your eye for garment colors. Not merely gray, but dove gray. I assume you would know the difference between that, and charcoal, and smoke?”
“Of course. Also silver gray, pewter gray, taupe gray, stormy gray, Payne’s gray, gunmetal gray, and heather gray.” I recite the colors enthusiastically. Don’t get me started on color theory…whoops, too late. “Wearing dove gray is a bold choice, because it’s a light gray, and darker grays are perceived as more authoritative. The choice of dove gray indicates that the man wearing it is either somewhat submissive and wants to fade into the background, or he’s extremely confident to the point where he transcends traditional color choices.” I turn around to see what she’s staring at. At the same moment, a faint, familiar hint of old-lady perfume drifts my way.
Standing down the hallway, crouching down to hug a little girl, is the cab-stealing bastard who’s ruined my life. He’s wearing a charcoal-gray suit now, and his hair is slicked back as if he’s just showered. A woman stands next to them, beaming down with a sweet smile. Aside from the smile, she looks like a female version of him. In other words, she’s dark haired, gorgeous, and effortlessly chic. She has a different air about her, though. She seems kinder, more serene.
“Are you by any chance the reason he came in here a little while ago smelling like a nineteenth century boudoir?” Thérèse asks. “One of my friends downstairs texted me about it. It was the talk of the store. He apparently mentioned something about a woman jumping into his cab and assaulting him with a perfume bottle. All the girls on the floor secretly applauded – when his back was turned.”
“He’s…” I can’t even finish my sentence. I’ve really put my foot in it now.