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Chapter One

"You're going to be late!" Jordan yelled from the kitchen in her usual bellow

She didn't have to re outon the back ofto actually see me in my outfit in just minutes I looked allery owner A short black skirt and white button down blouse? Ipasta down the street at Maentleht this was appropriate for an art gallery was beyond me

Sht brown hair that fell to just below my shoulders, I leaned in close to the mirror and saw that the tawny eye shadow and the darkest black mascara did their best to loss over my lips and put on my best supermodel face

Too bad everything below my neck ruined all my hard work

I ive etup She'd seen it before, but soot old

"And here she is, Miss A

Jordan put her glass down on the counter and brought her hands up to her face to cover her sreen eyes, she was my best friend and the only person who knew just how much I hated the outfit "Oh, honey At least youlook better, and you have great legs"

"I think I've heard that," I joked At least Jordan helped ot the first sneer fro with expensive jewelry looking down her plastic surgery perfect nose at ain

"I' up in the art world?"

"Justin and I are catching a movie"

"So you're doing Justin," I teased She'd begun dating hiotten ht Jordan saw hiht" and loved that he wanted to move toward more commitment

"Don't hate," she said with a smile "You'll be late, and then that nasty boss of yours will be all over you"

"Enjoy I'htly as I headed out the door

I walked toward the subith Jordan's words rattling around inout for the night "Don't hate" In truth, I didn't hate the idea that she had found someone I actually liked Justin He wasn't an ass like a lot of guys, and he was pretty tolerant of having a third wheel when Jordan dragged ht in And he was just her type—tall, dark, and lanky While I wasn't as convinced as she was that he was "The One," simply because I wasn't sure that even existed, I liked that she was happy

It gave s did, in fact, happen to good people

The crowd of New York art devotees far less knowledgeable about art than parties lasses in hand and noses in the air as they feigned appreciation for the work of a new artist that odds ould likely be a has-been by this time next year The artasn't bad, as far as modern art went, but I didn't have the ti on the gallery's ladder, I was responsible for ensuring that the patrons were happy, full of alcohol and hors d'oeuvres, and convinced that the artist's as the "next big thing," as Sheila Anderson, allery that bore her na just hours before

Her hand-picked outfit for me fit oddly, which was exactly the purpose The black skirt was far too short and feltbelt in the chilly, air conditioned roo out! And the white, button-down shirt one size too sht was that a button would pop, fly from my chest, and take someone's eye out But since my job was to be a "hostess," as Sheila liked to term my employment as her personal slave, this hat I had to wear The only thing that made it even bearable was that she'd hired two other woht, so at least I wasn't alone in my outfit of shame