BACHELOR NUMBER FIVE
By Annabelle Anders
CHAPTER ONE
Holly
“Pick up thedry cleaning. Ship these back, all of them–they pinch– they’re the wrong size. And then drop off the notes for Monday’s show to Dan so he can go over them. Oh, and make me a new hair appointment.” Star grabbed the coffee from me and shoved another opened package of thongs into one of the boxes and a stack of files on top. Acting as personal assistant to Miss Star Martin was not where I’d pictured myself at the ripe old age of twenty-five, but the pay was good. And until I could settle on something else, being a gopher would have to do.
Lots of people might consider the position glamorous. Produced live every weekday morning in Denver, Star Martin’s Morning show drew great ratings and had been syndicated in over twenty major markets.
In reality, I spent most of my time in her downtown apartment, ironing, handling fan mail and god help me, taking care of Barbara– her bird.
Not that it wasn’t a gorgeous working environment: Luxurious furnishings, custom hardwood flooring with huge windows overlooking the mile high city. Of course, the windows faced west, providing amazing views of not only iconic downtown landmarks but the mountains in the distance as well.
“This isn’t happening to me! Tell me this isn’t happening!” Star stared at her phone in horror. Or at least it sounded like horror. I couldn’t go by her expression since her last round of Botox. She’d spent thousands of dollars on plastic surgery. Not that I’d seen the bills, but that weird tilt to her eyes gave away the facelift and even I knew those lips couldn’t be natural.
Setting the boxes on the huge dining room table, I glanced up. No way this was a real emergency. I’d learned after my first week that in Star Martin’s world even a hangnail required my immediate and undivided attention. It was my job to coddle her through such mini disasters.
“Marco needs me in L.A. and I’m going to miss the auction tonight! God damn it!” She fluttered her hands and paced back and forth in front of the windows. “I need that interview!” She dropped to the leather couch and frantically tapped out a text or two on her phone.
“Anything I can do to help, Miss Martin?” I wasn’t sure if I should leave or hang around and wait for this latest to pass.
My frantic boss waived one manicured hand in the air, scowled at me and focused once again on her phone.
I’d heard snippets about the auction and the interview for two weeks now. Star’s producers thought she could get some big wig political guy to talk to her by “winning” him at a local charity bachelor auction. They were always looking for something fresh. Something to make the show stand out.
I suppose if I cared about my job in any way whatsoever, I’d feel this way too. As it was, I simply wanted to get through each day. Every morning that was my mantra: make it through another day.
This was another one of those situations that I couldn’t win. If I were to stand around waiting for her to get off the phone, she’d chastise me for not running her errands, but if I left without the go-ahead, she’d get all pissy that I couldn’t read her mind.
My older– and only– brother, Simon landed the job for me. I’d been kind of a mess when I came home from New York last spring and he didn’t want me to have to go back to waiting tables.
After nearly six months of this torture, though, I’d kill for a server job. Simon had stuck his neck out for me though. If I wasn’t already a big enough disappointment to my family by now, walking out on this job would seal the deal. One year. I could handle anything for one year.
I gathered the boxes again and moved toward the door. Star had probably forgotten I was here. I needed to escape while she was preoccupied. Besides, it was Friday. I could run these errands and then go home and hide from the world until Monday.
Except I lived with my parents for now and my mom treated me the same as she had before I went away to college. I needed to find my own place but for some reason hadn’t done anything about it.
“No!” Star screamed across the room. I flinched when her iPhone went flying across the apartment, bouncing off one of the windows.
Rather impressive really. I’d never seen shatterproof in action.
“Holly! Did I say you could leave yet? No! I specifically asked you to wait ’til I was off the phone.” She grabbed a manila envelope and shoved it on top the pile of boxes I was already struggling to balance. “This is against my better judgement, but I don’t have any other choice.” She took a deep cleansing breath and then pinned me with her evil gaze. “You are going to bid on the senator for me tonight. His information and the cashier’s check are in this envelope. This is important, do you understand? Bid as high as you need to, but do not let him slip away.” She glared at me. “Do not mess this up.”
What?
“But?” I’d never done anything like this. The auction had been touted as a huge black tie affair. I was not the right person for this job. “Can’t somebody else do this? I’m not really…” I trailed off at the look on her face.
“If you want to keep your job, you’ll do this and you’ll do it right. How difficult can it be anyhow? Bid until nobody outbids you. Don’t mention my name. In fact, this might work better than if I do it myself. If he doesn’t know the date is with a reporter maybe he won’t be so defensive when we go out.”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t have anything to wear.” Which was the truth.
Star examined me from head to toe and then wrinkled her nose. “You have my credit card. Get your hair and makeup done at Minnelli’s and have Monique at La Boutique set you up with a dress for tonight. Do not get it dirty and we’ll return it on Monday. Shoes too, I imagine.” She glanced down at her hands and cursed. “Where’s my damn phone?”
I climbed intothe elevator and hit the lobby button impatiently wondering if I should laugh or cry. It was already three thirty in the afternoon and the auction started at eight. I shifted the boxes in my arms and hit the glowing button three more times. So much for my weekend plans.
A text came in from Star.
