Old School (A Bad Boy Biker Romance) by Delilah Wilde Read Free Book Online Page A

simple enough, but no one wanted to answer it. Even my more seasoned colleagues knew that I bad answer could inflict Jennifer's wrath and no one wanted that. Any sudden movement would be interpreted as volunteering. Unfortunately, I automatically flinched at the word 'biker'. Jennifer shot me an icy smile.
     
    “New girl. What's your name again?” she said, “No, don't answer me. I've got it. Your name is Laura. Laura, what do you think of when I say 'Biker Chic'?”
    “Lola,” I mumbled and she glared at me. If I didn't want to make an enemy of her I should have just changed my name to Laura, but I wasn't quite ready to do that for her. She saw any disagreement as a threat. That small correction alone had already cemented my place in Jennifer's bad books.
     
    “All right Lola,” she over-emphasized my name as if it was the stupidest thing she had ever heard, “Please feel free to regal us with your wisdom.”
    “I don't know much about bikers really,” I said. This seemed to infuriate Jennifer even more. Even my co-workers winced in anticipation of what they knew was going to happen. At least she couldn't hit me. That wasn't her style anyway. Jennifer's attacks were always verbal.
     
    “I didn't ask you about bikers, Lola. I asked about 'Biker Chic'. I don't give a shit about dirty old tattooed men with beards full of crumbs and leather vests two sizes too small. I care about fashion, because this is a fashion magazine,” she gave my outfit a withering glance, “It would be great if you could remember that, New Girl.”
    I thought it best not to correct her this time. She knew my name, she was just deliberately choosing not to use it. The words 'New Girl' weren't words she used to make up for her memory issues. No, they were a threat. She was using them to remind me that I hadn't been here for long, that I wasn't at her level. That I was disposable. It was despicable, but true.
     
    Jennifer moved on from me and started talking about leather mini-skirts and studded heels. Basically the kind of shit that would get you killed if you ever actually rode a motorcycle. I wondered what Vince would think if he pulled up to take me for a ride on his bike and I appeared dressed like that. He'd probably like it, not that it mattered. It didn't seem very likely that I would ever see him again, much less get a ride on his motorcycle. I certainly wouldn't be seen dead in a leather mini skirt.
    I didn't contribute anything to the rest of the meeting, apart from when Jennifer asked me what direction we should go with for the womens' makeup. I had learned from experience that 'nude lip, smokey eye' was the only makeup look that Jennifer didn't label as vulgar and was a safe bet. It was the makeup that she herself wore every day, so obviously it was perfect.
     
    “I think maybe a nice nude lip and a really sexy smokey eye would compliment all that leather without making it look trashy,” I said, paraphrasing what she always said to make it sound like I had just come up with it on the fly. I wasn't quite sure how a leather mini-skirt could not look trashy but Jennifer actually seemed pleased by my answer. I was blessed with a curt nod, akin to highest praise. I couldn't help but smile, feeling like the class dunce who had finally got a question right. Jennifer's foul mood returned as she dismissed the meeting.
     
    “Well I'd very much like to thank you all for wasting forty five valuable minutes of my life. I'm sure when I am on my deathbed I will look back fondly on all of the ridiculous statements I heard today in this very board room as the life drains from my eyes,” we started to get up but Jennifer gestured that she wasn't finished yet, so we stuck our asses back in the chairs as if they were glued there, “Now this 'Biker Chic' shoot is going ahead as soon as possible and it's your job to make sure it's not a disaster. Your ideas, quite frankly, are garbage, so you better start working on new ones or somebody's