his office
door wide open, proudly displaying sketches and rough storyboards for all the office
to see. His concept was definitely themed around the idea of Kentucky as a bastion
of gentility and manners. He was calling every well-known horse photographer in Lexington
to get rights to elegant “horses running across a pasture” shots. And bourbon distilleries
had taken to sending him sample bottles, hinting that they would love to provide a
location for television or photo shoots.
I was going to have to be better. And I was going to have to be quick about it.
“I know it seems paranoid to work outside of the office, but I want to keep Vaughn
guessing,” I told her. “If he doesn’t see any progress, he may think I’m slacking
off and let his guard down.”
“Still calling him Vaughn, huh?” Kelsey asked, tossing a black-and-green enameled
bracelet at me.
“Josh is too friendly a name for that guy. Vaughn is just detached enough,” I told
her, catching it and clasping it around my wrist. “Vaughn is the name of that guy
who hears you’re having a party from a mutual friend, shows up, drinks all your beer,
and asks why you didn’t serve better chips. You know him, but you don’t want to.”
“I have mentioned before that this is a place of business and not your personal girly-girl
dress-up palace,” Angela said drily as she approached with a boxy pink suit reminiscent
of Jackie Kennedy.
“Am I going to be wearing a pillbox hat?” I asked.
“Why are you being so difficult?” she groaned, stomping back to the rear of the house.
I rounded on Kelsey. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but are you not the same person
who went into his PowerPoint presentation for the Greater Louisville Area Chamber
of Commerce today and took all of the l ’s out of his ‘public’s?”
“He’s going to do a speech on ‘pubic funding.’ ” Kelsey snickered, but tamped it down
quickly. “I was provoked.”
She had a point. Coming from a large firm, Vaughn was clearly used to having his own
personal assistant, a personal assistant who put up with a lot of crap. Despite her
usually stellar level of work, Josh rarely told Kelsey “thank you” or “good job.”
Rather than politely asking for something, he tended to bark orders when he was in
a hurry. Such as, “Coffee, black, three sugars.” Or “2010 campground occupancy reports,
yesterday.”
It turns out that talking to somebody like they’re a coffee-dispensing robot is not
a good idea when she has your password and can change your files without leaving a
digital trail.
“You are a paragon of restraint,” I assured her, digging out the files we needed.
Angela cleared her throat as she came out of her pantry/secondary stockroom with a
hunter-orange wrap dress and a matching jacket. “Oh, come on, it’s like you don’t
even know me!”
Angela rolled her eyes. “You know, there are colors beyond black and green. You’re
not a Slytherin.”
“I don’t only wear black and—” I looked to Kelsey, who smirked at me and glanced down
at the black-and-green bracelet on my wrist . . . which went nicely with the sage-green
sundress and matching sweater I was wearing. “It brings out the green in my eyes,
okay? And my grandmother’s birthstone was peridot, so I have a lot of accessories
to match. I don’t have to explain myself to you!” The girls cackled wildly. “I hate
y’all. I really do.”
“You wear a lot of it,” Angela said. “Besides, the orange dress was just a palate
cleanser. This is what I want you to see.”
Angela pulled out a suit-dress made from buttercup-colored raw silk with a tucked
waist and three-quarter sleeves. It was gorgeous. And while I normally didn’t wear
yellow, it looked rather nice with my skin tone when I held it up to my body in front
of the mirror. “Are there matching shoes?” I asked hopefully.
Angela scoffed and pointed me
door wide open, proudly displaying sketches and rough storyboards for all the office
to see. His concept was definitely themed around the idea of Kentucky as a bastion
of gentility and manners. He was calling every well-known horse photographer in Lexington
to get rights to elegant “horses running across a pasture” shots. And bourbon distilleries
had taken to sending him sample bottles, hinting that they would love to provide a
location for television or photo shoots.
I was going to have to be better. And I was going to have to be quick about it.
“I know it seems paranoid to work outside of the office, but I want to keep Vaughn
guessing,” I told her. “If he doesn’t see any progress, he may think I’m slacking
off and let his guard down.”
“Still calling him Vaughn, huh?” Kelsey asked, tossing a black-and-green enameled
bracelet at me.
“Josh is too friendly a name for that guy. Vaughn is just detached enough,” I told
her, catching it and clasping it around my wrist. “Vaughn is the name of that guy
who hears you’re having a party from a mutual friend, shows up, drinks all your beer,
and asks why you didn’t serve better chips. You know him, but you don’t want to.”
“I have mentioned before that this is a place of business and not your personal girly-girl
dress-up palace,” Angela said drily as she approached with a boxy pink suit reminiscent
of Jackie Kennedy.
“Am I going to be wearing a pillbox hat?” I asked.
“Why are you being so difficult?” she groaned, stomping back to the rear of the house.
I rounded on Kelsey. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but are you not the same person
who went into his PowerPoint presentation for the Greater Louisville Area Chamber
of Commerce today and took all of the l ’s out of his ‘public’s?”
“He’s going to do a speech on ‘pubic funding.’ ” Kelsey snickered, but tamped it down
quickly. “I was provoked.”
She had a point. Coming from a large firm, Vaughn was clearly used to having his own
personal assistant, a personal assistant who put up with a lot of crap. Despite her
usually stellar level of work, Josh rarely told Kelsey “thank you” or “good job.”
Rather than politely asking for something, he tended to bark orders when he was in
a hurry. Such as, “Coffee, black, three sugars.” Or “2010 campground occupancy reports,
yesterday.”
It turns out that talking to somebody like they’re a coffee-dispensing robot is not
a good idea when she has your password and can change your files without leaving a
digital trail.
“You are a paragon of restraint,” I assured her, digging out the files we needed.
Angela cleared her throat as she came out of her pantry/secondary stockroom with a
hunter-orange wrap dress and a matching jacket. “Oh, come on, it’s like you don’t
even know me!”
Angela rolled her eyes. “You know, there are colors beyond black and green. You’re
not a Slytherin.”
“I don’t only wear black and—” I looked to Kelsey, who smirked at me and glanced down
at the black-and-green bracelet on my wrist . . . which went nicely with the sage-green
sundress and matching sweater I was wearing. “It brings out the green in my eyes,
okay? And my grandmother’s birthstone was peridot, so I have a lot of accessories
to match. I don’t have to explain myself to you!” The girls cackled wildly. “I hate
y’all. I really do.”
“You wear a lot of it,” Angela said. “Besides, the orange dress was just a palate
cleanser. This is what I want you to see.”
Angela pulled out a suit-dress made from buttercup-colored raw silk with a tucked
waist and three-quarter sleeves. It was gorgeous. And while I normally didn’t wear
yellow, it looked rather nice with my skin tone when I held it up to my body in front
of the mirror. “Are there matching shoes?” I asked hopefully.
Angela scoffed and pointed me
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