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Meg flashed her fresh, sunny-bright curls holding her compact mirror to her smiling oval face. Her short blonde hair was never so stylish only complimented by her nyx Matte nail polish. “Wow, Megan, they look incredible on you,” I bubbly remarked bouncing the mass of glowing flawless twirls in my palm. She shifted to me with extremely happy grin on her face. “I know…” She almost skipped on one foot in salon to express she was so pleased she was with Marko’s creation. It was too late rethink my classic dark waves as I observed it in the large square mirror. “Ladies, gosh, how many times do I have to remind you two not get up from your chairs without the finishing touches,” Marko raved wiggling over to us in his super tight leather pants, pimped –out silk shirt and fluffed up dark Mohawk with grey strikes in the center. He his fingers all held sliver rings, “eyes.” He aimed two anti-frizz sprays at us and we zealously obliged snapping our eyelids shut. The scented fumes disbursed, Marko’s essential for a lasting hairdo.

“What would we ever do without you?”

Megan kissed his cheek in gratitude.

“Get in line, baby doll. You and G.G were lucky to get squeezed on such short notice. Give, the Marko, you can’t live without, a quicker heads-up next time.”

“You’ll have to pardon us, hun, I had to treat Meg, she’s been a little down lately.” I told him with a shrug.

“Really, single not going well for our Meg?”

I chuckled as he winced at me. “Okay, that’s enough prying into my personal life.” She nudged us then picked up her handbag checking her wrist watch. “We better get going if we want at least an hour and a half at Barney’s before you have to catch that three-thirty interview,” she reminded flashing her curls once more. “I couldn’t possibly forget,” I sighed. Having to go through the pain of navigating through the Forester Oils headquarters would just spoil my lovely day. However, Jones did mention it was owner of the firm whom I will be meeting with hopefully there’ll be less trouble trying to locate his office. Or I might have to pull the fire alarm for someone in order to find my way around.

“Thanks again, Oh Great Marko.” Megan motioned herself into continuous bowing I laughed and mimic her making him so flattered he was about to blush. “Anything for my favorite blonde and brunette darlings,” We exchanged tiny kisses, then Meg and I made our way through the door and around to sixty-seven street.

We mounted the fleecy carpeted stairwell we liked to spy the upstairs division before anything else.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Meg let out.

A small but irresistibly scrumptious flowing Godiva chocolate fountain was cruelly presented as we stepped onto the flat waxed floors. “No. No… not goin’ happen I have to cut back after a whole week of pigging out,” she said hysterically, If only I had an adequate dose of will power to support her. “Lighten up, it’s just for a little sampling.” I told her selecting a small plastic cup from the pile and letting the fountain fill it.

She screeched murmuring something I couldn’t understand before reprieving herself and held a cup under the molten delight. Chocolate had a drug effect on my dear, best friend, Megan. Stage 1 instant denial. Stage 2 strange behaviors similar to that of a child and finally succumbing to the delectable effect.

“Hmmm, no harm in trying another,” I mouthed boldly, licking the spear off my lips.

Meg bobbed her curly head rapidly already finding it hard to stop filling her cup as she gulped down a second. I caught sight of a few beautiful pairs of Louis Vittons on a round display table the distraction was Meg’s savior. Meanwhile she searched for her size I pondered on whether to get the gold or white ankle strappy.

“What do you think?”

She stretched a pinkish velvet bow pump out for me to judge.

“Nice. But the bow is too big. Try the ivory pair.”

I recommended scooting next to her on the soft white sofa beside the display table and slip off my black heels.

“Gina.” I heard a swift whisper and looked up at her.

She gestured with her hand for to come to her by the table. I arched my brow and bristled walking over on my bare feet. “What is it?” I asked surely curious.

“How do like that accessory?”

Pass the shoe stand in front us she directed to a stud in loose jeans and Barbour jacket at the men’s wear section. He had on hat with trimmed beard on his chin and a tiny ear ring.

I made a wolfish whistle. “Hubba, Hubba.”

Megan giggled.

“He kind of reminds me of Brian Littrell.”

“Your Backstreet boys’ crush, you’re really are on a dry spell. Aren’t you?”

“Shut up.” She murmured lighting shoving me. “He looks more Marko’s type if you ask me,” I naughtily winced to her then went back to the sofa and threw her behind down making the flexible cushion bounce.

“He still could make a refreshing rebound,” she grinned more to herself than to me.

I smiled smug pulling the straps around my ankles.

“In that case go for it and screw the dry spell.” She purred and we high-fived up top.

“Wow, G.G those are stunning.”

“You think?” I glanced at the gold color Louis Vuittons on my feet.

“Are you kidding they go spectacular with your dress.”

My crimson smooth long-sleeve Versace was well-equipped and apt for a day of salon, shopping and a business conduct all together. “You have to wear them to the interview.”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s the perfect match I’m telling you.”

“And just who are you the fashion police?” I chuckled.

“Today, apparently yes. Look G.G you can just pay for them at the register you’ll have leave soon anyway. I’ll take care of these.” She grabbed my black heels.

“Hey, give those back.”

“Not gonna happen.”

I gritted then shrugged in defeat. Damn it, how on earth am to coordinate in that gigantic building in things? Wish I could just change my mind but the company’s secretary stated plain and clear over the phone it was a $15,000 salary a week job offer. If I was interested I should attend an interview with the boss foe further details and I couldn’t refuse, the pay was definitely worth the stress.


“Everything booked?” Alex inquired while signing the papers on his desk.

“You can count on it. We’ll have the company jet ready for you.” Patrick responded handing him the itinerary.

“Excellent, we should be all set for Wednesday.”

“By the way, don’t you have a conference with our head Executives?” He asked his friend.

“I cancelled it, I’m interviewing in the next forty minutes.” Alex replied.

“Oh, you conducting an interview-and in person?”

“Yes. I need a credited Translator, versed in different idioms. Isn’t one is required for the meetings with our international investors?”

“Yeah, but, don’t they usually have one provided for us?” He questioned further.

“I’m changing things up this time, it’s important that we have our own people. I want no mistakes on our end.” He said, placing the papers back into the folder on the desk.

“I see you always like to be one step ahead, Al.”

“Always, Pat.”

Patrick took the folder from him.

“Did you tell Aunt Lily you’ll be gone for nine months?”

“Yep, she was sad, but she understood. Guess what? The doctor says she’ll be fit for home care if her condition continues to improve.” He smiled, showing the rare joy on his face knowing his mother could soon return to their country house. The city was nowhere suitable for a woman her age and sickly.

“No kidding, bro, that’s great news. We should celebrate before you leave.” Patrick almost yelled. He couldn’t contain the relief and excitement.

“Don’t be hasty, Pat. Let’s just hope she keeps getting better. Can I get a favor from you?”

“Anything.”

“I’m only leaving you in charge of the organization but of Lily. I want you to visit her often. Heck, everyday, if you can. She always loved you dearly, ever since you and I were little boys. I can’t think of a man I’d trust her to more,” he said, serious and wholeheartedly.

“Consider it done, bro,” they slapped their palms together then tightened into a large sturdy fist and smiled to each other.

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