“She’s part of our group text now. Didn’t you notice? And Jemma can’t come because she’s working the coffee cart, but she also wants a report.”
I smack my forehead. “Is there anyone in New York who doesn’t know I got a rack of clothes delivered to my apartment?”
“I’m sure the news hasn’t travelled to the outer boroughs. Yet.” Isabella’s pawing shamelessly through the rack. Clarita examines the garments with care, holding up sleeves and hems and examining them.
Edna examines the sleeve of a silk jumpsuit. “I guess sin pays pretty well these days.” She purses her lips thoughtfully, in a bright-pink lipsticked line. “I mean, this is the twenty-first century. Times change. Hmm. A few gents from the senior center are always giving me the eye. I wonder…”
“No!” I squawk indignantly.
“You’re right, you’re right. They’re a bunch of cheapskates. They’re all so cheap, when they die they’ll walk towards the light…and turn it off. If I’m going to sell my virtue, I’m charging top dollar.”
“Isabella!” I plead. “Talk to her.”
Isabella has other things on her mind. She holds up a color-blocked pink, black and gray silk blouse. “Oh my God! You must have made him see stars. You’ll have to give me lessons – Emilio’s coming home soon. Was it an oral thing? Did you learn how to deep throat?”
I smack her on the arm. “It was my sparkling personality! I’m the human equivalent of a bottle of champagne!”
“Hold on, I’m taking notes.” Edna rummages in her purse and pulls out a notebook and pen. “Wait, what am I writing down again?”
“Look at the quality of this fabric. There’s some nice stitching there.” Clarita admires a pleated polka dot skirt.
“I’ll go make us some coffee,” Edna decides. “Then you can tell us exactly what you did to earn these outfits.”
“When Hell freezes over,” I mouth at Isabella.
She’s typing on her cell phone. I glare and try to look threatening, but it just makes my forehead hurt. I’m not a good scowler.
“Do not tell me you’re updating anyone else about this.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you,” she says agreeably. She taps the phone. “And…send! Oh, you know Bernice, Delroy’s daughter, right? She wonders if any of this stuff is a size ten? And if Blake has a brother?”
“I seriously hate you right now. And no to both questions.”
This was incredibly generous of Blake, but we’re going to have to have a talk. A new wardrobe ostentatiously delivered to my apartment building for the whole block to see? I feel like the mistress of a Madison Avenue mogul in a Jacqueline Susann novel.
“I just don’t know if I can accept them,” I murmur, fingering a shimmering champagne-colored blouse.
“Why? It makes sense,” Isabella protests. “Doesn’t matter if you’re a personal shopper or assistant to his Royal Hotness, you’re still basically a brand ambassador, so you need to look the part.”
“Never let him hear you use that nickname,” I scoff. “His ego is already dangerously inflated. You give him a compliment like that and his head will actually explode, and since I’m his assistant, I’d have to sweep up.”
“Whatever. You’re keeping these.” She gestures at the rack. “The hospital provides us with scrubs. Hudson’s is providing you with an appropriate work uniform. More importantly, need I remind you that we’re the same size and I plan to rifle through your closet on a regular basis?
“Well…” I sigh, stroking the sleeve of a butter-soft khaki blazer.
The truth is, I was starting to worry about what to wear to work, because I don’t have that many outfits that are Hudson’s-worthy. Even consignment store shopping would be tricky for me right now. My paycheck’s pretty much gone already. I don’t even have enough money for a lucky latte today.
But I’m smiling, because I’ve got a rack full of gorgeous clothes and a great job, and soon I’ll be bombarded with Blake’s snark-rageous text messages. I didn’t hear from him at all yesterday after I left, which was more unsettling than I’d expected, but I’m ready to dive into the fray this morning.
“What about my date with Marshall this Friday?” I wonder aloud. “Should I cancel it?”
Isabella shrugs. “It’s kind of a blackmail date, isn’t it? I wouldn’t sweat it.”
I actually think that Marshall’s a nicer guy than people give him credit for. And it doesn’t matter, I can’t lead the guy on. “No, when I show up I’m going to tell him that Blake and I actually are kind