particularly shocking about those words coming out of Thérèse’s perfectly glossed pink lips. Her faint French accent lends the word “dickweasel” an amusing air of elegance. “Also known as Blake Hudson, CEO of Hudson’s.”
Argh. I should have known. I did study up on the store when I got the job interview, but that consisted of visiting their website and the store to brush up on their latest lines.
I know that the store was started by Lawrence Hudson in the 1940s. The store has always been a family business. Lawrence left it to his two sons, William and Raymond. There was some kind of massive financial scandal that almost sank the store twenty-two years ago, and then a couple of years after that, Raymond and his wife died in a car crash, leaving behind a young son and teenaged daughter.
I should have done a little more research. If I’d known that my evil nemesis owned this place, there would have been scorch marks burned all the way down Fifth Avenue from me fleeing for my life.
I shake my head in confusion. “I don’t understand. If he’s the CEO of Hudson’s, why has he been coming to Hell’s Kitchen to supervise some construction crew? I heard they were building a restaurant, with offices on the upper floors?”
“He’s helping a friend of his, Nico Rossi. Nico is opening a new restaurant there, and he’s also going to have a café at our popup event. You’ve heard of our Popup Palooza?”
“Oh, my God, yes. It sounds amazing.”
Hudson’s has always been big on what I like to think of as store theatre. Every year, they dream up new ways to lure people through their doors, and the rest of the industry takes notes. They have theatrical window displays, in-store concerts, body-painted models stalking through the aisles, a mini locomotive train running through the children’s department, design-ins with seamstresses in the store windows whipping up elegant creations.
Now, with popup shops all the rage, they’re converting large portions of their store into a popup event in August. The hottest designers, artists, chefs, DJs, models, and influencers will set up throughout the whole store. Each shop is expected to sell out pretty much immediately, and as soon as their stock is gone, it’s gone forever. A new store will move in to take its place, with the same spot expected to cycle through dozens of little shops throughout the month.
“Anyway, Nico’s father recently passed away, and Nico had to spend a few weeks in Italy sorting out the family estate, so Blake was keeping an eye on the construction project for him. Not to be helpful, mind you, because you will quickly find out that ‘helpful’ is not in Blake’s lexicon.” Her lips purse in distaste. “He’s just doing it because he wanted Nico to feel obligated to participate in the popup event. By the way, you’re hired.”
Wait, what?
I stare at her, stunned. I put my wrist on my forehead. Am I suffering heat-stroke? She can’t possibly be serious.
Unlike Mr. Hudson, though, she doesn’t seem like the type who’d mock.
“I’m…hired?” I say cautiously. On the one hand, I’ve just learned that this store is owned by Smarmy Satan and, not surprisingly, his employees seem to share my low opinion of him. On the other hand, the pay is so good. My starved wallet is practically salivating in anticipation.
Also, put that in your pipe and smoke it, Peach Pit. Weird Winona got the job.
She smiles. “My Aunt Edna adores you, and she’s got a great sense for people.”
“Edna is your aunt?” Edna hadn’t mentioned that.
“Well, sort of. Great aunt by marriage, actually. Yes. I’d already decided that you had the job, based on her description of you, but then you missed your interview. And then today when you showed up looking like…well. Water under the bridge. You’re hired. Go home. Shower, change, fix yourself up, come back at three p.m. to fill out your paperwork and get a tour of the store. You’ll start training tomorrow.”
Oh my God. I want to cry, laugh, and scream with joy all at the same time. This woman has just saved my life. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I gush. “Oh, I could just hug you.” I see the expression on her face, and take a step back. “Don’t worry, I won’t! I’m going home right now! I will return a new woman.”
“A woman who’s taken a shower,” she repeats.
As I rush for the elevator, prickly heat sweeps my body and the