One of the attendants rushed forward. “No, ma’am. It’s the model’s?—”
“Can we buy it?” Neev demanded, ignoring the assistant and asking the model herself.
“Neev! Jesus Christ!”
As my sister negotiated my new closet, a closet that was approaching six figures in shoes alone, I snatched one of the flutes of Champagne that was offered to me.
“How the fuck is this my life?” I downed the bubbly.
Stan: How’s it going? Think you’ll be ready for tomorrow?
I glowered at my cell phone.
Me: Next time, you come with me. Neev is a hellion.
Stan: She’s YOUR sister
Me: You and her clearly attended the same people management class
Me: At least she’s stopped flirting with Franco
Stan: Not again. Can’t she leave my men alone?
“Kitty! I need you to try this red dress on. KITTY!”
Neev’s roar had the models flinching.
“LOWER YOUR DAMN VOICE, NEEV!” I roared back, loud enough to make Franco jump.
Me: Nuh-huh.
Me: Next time, give her a budget at least
Stan: Sky’s the limit for you, bedda mia
Me: Bite me
Stan: Gladly
THIRTY-SEVEN
TEXT CHAT
Lara: What the hell’s going on in NYC?
George: Context much, Lara?
George: For reference, I sent her an article about those Italians who washed up on the banks of the Hudson, Kitty
Lara: PFFFT. BODIES ARE WASHING UP FROM THE HUDSON, GEORGE. Priorities. Helllllooo
Millie: Are you safe, Kitty?
Kitty: I’m fine
Kitty: Honestly
Kitty: But it IS crazy in the city right now.
