Charlotte Bennardo - Blonde Ops A Novel

“ Scusi. ” I went over to my backpack, found my purse, and pulled out the twenty the Fiat driver refused.

She waved her hands, refusing my offering, then smiled at me.

“Thank you,” I said, adding hurriedly, “ Grazie ,” and smiled back. She nodded approvingly and left.

The buttery pastry melted in my mouth, and the espresso was so strong each cup required three teaspoons of sugar. The stuff could fuel jets, it was so intense.

Showered, fed, and outfitted in my sleek new clothes, I felt human again—and determined not to be at anyone’s “Bec and call.” As nice as Parker and Sophie seemed, I didn’t want to tend to models—or deal with Kevin Clayton, Office Dictator. And was I getting paid for this internship? No one mentioned a word about a paycheck. Resigned to a long day, I packed up my laptop and left the glittering hotel, strolling along and taking in the scenery I’d missed the night before. Budding flowers and tiny curled vines crept over the stucco walls of ancient houses, and I took care walking over the uneven pavement, inches taller in my cool wedge sandals. Could I get used to this?

At first I wasn’t sure because there were so many cars, Vespas, and motorcycles that it was hard to tell one sound from another, but after a few seconds, I was certain: I’d heard this particular droning buzz before. And I tried not to smile.

A green Vespa putted until it was next to me, keeping pace. I turned my head to the driver.

“ Bec, come sta! ” Dante pulled up to the curb, and, taking off his helmet, shook out his shiny blond hair.

“Hello, Dante,” I said, unable to keep the delight out of my voice. “What’s up?”

“Busy day,” he said, looking over his shoulder at a pile of envelopes and boxes bound to the back of the Vespa with a bungee cord.

I’d rather be rolling around Rome, my arms wrapped around you and delivering packages than going to certain servitude at Edge. Parker would be too busy to spare any time for me so I’d be delegated to Kevin as soon as I walked in the door.

“You working at the magazine?” he asked. “I thought you might … be a student.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of doing both. What about you?”

“I go back to school soon. Need to save some money first. You want a ride over?”

I looked longingly at the Vespa. I wouldn’t mind taking it for a spin around town—but I didn’t just go riding around with guys I barely knew, gorgeous or not. Besides—what would Sophie say if I showed up clinging to Dante on the back of his ride? She might not appreciate it if she was into him. Common sense prevailed.

“I want to walk around a bit and see everything,” I said, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

He tilted his head at me and flashed the smile that made my stomach do flip-flops.

“Okay. Next time,” he said, and putting his helmet back on, turned the Vespa into the road and disappeared in the traffic.

I hurried through the crowded street. It was a sunny day, but the occasional chilly breeze made me long for my hoodie, which was en route with my other things from school arriving who knew when. At lunchtime maybe I could go shopping with Sophie.

Francesca was on the phone when I walked in, speaking so fast I couldn’t catch any words but “Parker.” Looking up and seeing me, she impatiently waved at me to go upstairs.

The place was even more hectic than yesterday. Downstairs had been calm, but now people rushed around, yelling, bumping into each other. When I reached the top of the steps I spied Taliah in the big room fussing with the wardrobe racks, and another model looking semicomatose as Ugi slapped a palette of color onto her face.

“No more late nights!” he scolded her. “You want these dark circles to be permanent?”

“But Gianni gave me a personal invitation to that party,” she sniffed. “No one says no to Gianni!”

“You start to look like an old lady and you’ll be lucky if Gianni will let you carry his shopping bags. No more crazy parties! You wait until after the shoot!”

A series of bright flashes startled me; Aldo was adjusting a light for Angelo, who was clicking away on his camera.

“ Sinistra! Sinistra! ” he shouted at the model in front of him. She pouted, and swayed to the left.

Kevin and Francesca whispered urgently in a corner, their own little clique. Seeing me, Sophie hurried over and pulled me to the balcony. Below I could hear the espresso monster gurgling away. The rich aroma of roasted coffee beans wafted up to where we stood. I was already full of coffee but suddenly craved more. I hoped they had lots of sugar.

“Parker’s not here. Everyone’s going crazy,” Sophie said, sounding anxious.

I frowned. “She left me a note and told me to meet her here, but maybe something came up—a last minute appointment or a meeting.”

Letting go of me, Sophie shook her head. “She did have an appointment. Here. Parker never does a no-show. And she’s always on time. ”

I didn’t understand what the big deal was. Everyone was late sometimes, reputation or not. Parker probably stopped somewhere to field a phone call. I was willing to bet she got just as many as Mom. Or maybe she stopped in one of the bajillion cafés I’d passed on the way to the office and decided to indulge in an early cappuccino. And wasn’t life supposed to be more relaxed in Italy? One wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at this office. Here it was never-ending mayhem on a colossal scale.

“So call her,” I said.

Sophie regarded me gravely. “I did. So did Kevin and Francesca. She didn’t answer—and Parker always answers.”

Again with the “always.”

“I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

“You don’t understand.” Sophie lowered her voice when a lanky model slunk by to go downstairs, probably to the kitchen. She gave us the evil eye—poor thing had to get her own water! We stood there, not saying a word until she was out of earshot.

“There are a million things to do, and Serena’s not here either. That means until one of them gets back, Kevin’s in charge.”

I could see how that would be annoying. No—more than annoying. But I was sure Parker would show up soon, and when she got wind that he went all tyrant in her absence, Kevin might find himself on the next plane to you’re-fireds-ville. Before I could assure Sophie that everything would be okay, Kevin stepped part way into the hall, motioned us closer, and sharply demanded quiet from everyone.

His expression grim, his mouth tight, he said, “Parker’s in the hospital.”

The air rushed out of my lungs as the shock hit. Kevin waited while people gasped and fretted. Some of the models just stood there, looking clueless or unconcerned.

My heart sank as I thought of Parker; the connection we’d managed to make in our brief conversation. Although now I was … free . What or who could stop me from buying a plane ticket to anywhere? No one. I’d have to call my parents, but it could wait a few days …

“Serena just called. Parker and Agent Ortiz were in a car accident early this morning, and were taken to the emergency room,” Kevin said. “Apparently it’s serious.”

My grand plan to escape curled up into a ball that wedged itself in my throat. There was no way I could leave now, not if Parker was—

“Is she okay?” I asked.

Everyone started talking at once and Kevin tried to shush them.

“I’ll pass along any information as soon as I find out,” he said quietly, “but the order from Serena is to stay on schedule. The First Lady will be here the day after tomorrow and Serena said to keep things running as usual, so until she gets in, I’m keeping things organized.”