impression. And this isnât something that can wait. Iâve already seen the pictures on Radar Online. Has he?â
âI know, I totally agree with you. Let me talk to him after he cools down, and Iâll call you. Youâll be local?â
Emily nodded, although she hadnât given one momentâs thought as to where she was headed next. Sheâd come directly from JFK with her suitcase, figuring sheâd be working out of Rizzoâs apartment for the rest of the day and night, at which point sheâd check in to a hotel. But now? With no confirmed job?
Helene walked her to the foyer, and the maid appeared with Emilyâs rolling suitcase. âThank you for coming on such short notice. Iâll call you within the hour, okay?â
But Emilyâs phone rang before the elevator reached the lobby. âThat was fast.â
âIâm really sorry, Emily, but I wanted to tell you right away. He wants to . . . go in a different direction.â
âA different direction? What, is he planning to join the KKK? Because even I would have a hard time smoothing that one over.â
Helene didnât laugh. âI told him you were the absolute best, but he wants to go with Olivia Belle. Apparently she called him this morning and he liked what she had to say. I canât tell you how sorry I am. Weâll of course cover your flight and time, just invoice me.â
âAre you serious?â Emily asked, not able to help herself.
âI think heâs making a mistake, and I told him as much. But if he listened to me, we wouldnât be in this situation.â
âNo, I get it,â Emily said, even though she didnât. She mumbled something about talking later and hung up as soon as she could. Thankfully, the lobby furniture was both welcoming and empty, because she sank into an armchair without even looking.
Olivia Belle? If that was even her real name. Was he fucking kidding? She was a child . Granted, one with an Instagram following of more than two million people, compared to Emilyâs twenty thousand. But still. Instagram didnât fix crises. Followers didnât manage mega-celebrities. Tweeting was not a sufficient solution to a catastrophe.
Still, this was the third big job sheâd lost to that bitch. Olivia Belle was twenty-six and gorgeous and popping up at every worthwhile party and event on both coasts. She was loud. And all over every social-media platform. And moving in on Emilyâs clients as if she owned the industry.
Emily started dialing Kyle before she remembered it was New Yearâs Day. She could call Miles, she supposed, but he was probably working out or hanging with friends. Instead she pushed âMiriamâ on her favorites list and laughed, as she always did, when a picture of her friend grinning in the dorkiest way popped up on her screen.
âHi!â Miriam said. Kids were yelling in the background. âIsnât it early for you to be awake? What, like noon?â
âIâm in New York, actually. I hate that you left the city. Why didnât you think about me for one second when you made this asinine decision to be a suburban housewife?â
âAw, sweetie. I miss you too!â
âIâm serious. Iâm here, what? Like, twice a month? And you just left.â
Miriam laughed. âIâm thirty minutes away, Em. There are trains that come here, like, every five seconds. How long are you staying? Iâll come meet you tomorrow as soon as the kids are back in school.â
âI donât know. I just got fired by Rizzo Benz. Or not ever even hired, Iâm not sure which. Olivia Belle is ruining my life.â
âSheâs a child. She doesnât have anything on you. And Rizzo Benz is an idiot for thinking she does.â
âThree jobs now. And thatâs not even counting the other two I lost to her last year. Whatever,â Emily said, glaring back at the