Trust Ziggy to turn loyalty into a performance piece. Beneath the sass though, she knew what he was saying. He was in her corner. “I know I haven’t always been the easiest person to work for.”
Jane snorted, then waved a hand. “Sorry. Allergies.”
“I’m committed to less yelling,” Frankie continued.
Anthony narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch.”
“There’s always a catch,” he insisted.
Frankie sighed. “Fine. Less yelling because it is exhausting, and exhaustion leads to frown lines. Botox before forty is tragic.”
There were nods. Cautious, skeptical nods. Like they were watching a soap bubble and praying it wouldn’t pop.
“If you’re all quite done with your whining over your boss being nice, shall we start?” Frankie said. “Who’d like to pitch first?”
Isabella cleared her throat. “I will.”
Old Frankie wanted to roll her eyes so hard the activity qualified as cardio. Perfect. Let’s get the trash out of the way first.
She was going to miss Old Frankie. Maybe the trick was to find a way to marry her bite with this new, allegedly improved version.
“Excellent. Go on,” she said.
Isabella leaned forward, her tone crisp and professional. “A new Birkin dropped this week.”
Frankie perked up despite herself.
“Vogue is planning their usual What’s in Your Birkin? spread. I’d like us to counter with something a little…different.”
Frankie tapped a manicured nail against the table. “Define different.”
“I want to call it What’s in Your Emotional Baggage?”
Silence.
Then—
Ziggy dabbed an invisible tear from the corner of his eye. “Excuse me while I cry over the brilliance. That’s actually kind of genius.”
Samantha nodded. “People love knowing they’re not the only hot mess in town.”
Frankie leaned back in her chair, lips curving. “It’s fresh. It’s sharp. People will eat it up.”
Isabella blinked. “So…you like it?”
“I am physically pained to say this, but yes.”
Isabella smirked. “I can live with that.”
“Next pitch?”
Forty-five minutes later, Frankie rose. “This was productive. Good work, everyone.”
As chairs scraped and people began to file out, Isabella lingered.
Frankie raised a brow. “Something on your mind? Or are you here to bask in my aura?”
