Charlotte Bennardo - Blonde Ops A Novel

Grumbles of discontent erupted all around, but everyone dispersed. And if Serena said to keep things going, it might not be that bad, although car accidents could be harrowing experiences. No one knew that better than me. That time I took Dad’s new Lamborghini to get a latte? I really should’ve figured out how to drive a stick shift and parallel park before I got behind the wheel. Traumatic—most def.

It was a relief that Kevin wouldn’t ultimately be in charge, but I hadn’t really seen Serena in action. It would be best to keep busy with a low profile and not think about the possibilities of what could happen. I shuffled behind Sophie, unfortunately still catching Kevin’s eye.

He motioned to us. “Sophie, Bec—you’re with me.”

TRICKS AND TIPS FOR THE EDGE-Y GIRL

Size matters—for heels. Stand tall in your highest and tower over any obstacle!

5

Sophie and I followed Kevin into Parker’s office. He did have the decency not to sit in her chair, but he pulled something off her desk to show us. Something big.

“Is that a—” I started.

Sophie shook her head. “No. You didn’t. Kevin, that’s not a—”

“It’s a chore chart,” he said, holding it up with obvious pride.

When did he have the time to make that?!

“I’ve been working on it, but haven’t had a chance to show it to Parker yet.”

I had to shield my eyes, nearly blinded by the neon glare of multiple Post-it notes. My column was all pink.

“I don’t need a chart to know what my job is,” Sophie said, crossing her arms over her chest, clearly not impressed.

Francesca glided by the door and peered in, her eyes sliding over the poster board. “Nice chart,” she said, then made a pouty face. “Where’s Angelo?”

“In the studio where he belongs,” said Kevin kindly. “You need to stay at the front desk. I’m waiting to hear from Serena.”

She sighed heavily before melting back into the hallway. He followed her with his eyes before they returned to his chart of Domination and Distress.

“I think we’re done here,” Sophie said and moved to leave, but that only snapped Kevin’s attention back to us. He went over our assigned duties in painful detail. My glamorous Italian adventure—reduced to a poster board of pink sticky notes.

I knew what Kevin was up to. When Serena came back to the office and Parker eventually returned, he’d show both of them how well he kept things running while they were out. He had to be sucking up for a promotion or a raise. Maybe his name on the masthead?

In the end I did none of Kevin’s assigned chores. To keep the issue on schedule, I was recruited by Aldo to set up for the morning and afternoon shoots, call the models to confirm their sessions, and of course make uncountable cappuccinos. As Parker had said, other parts of the September issue were being tended to; bit columns on accessories, a double-page spread on the upcoming trends for eyeliner. While Parker and Kevin claimed everyone did a little of everything, it felt like I did most of the work reserved for people on the bottom rung of the ladder.

Sophie and I passed each other on the stairs, each time with a grim “I can’t wait for this day to be over” smile. But even in all the chaos, there was a sort of restraint in the atmosphere. Every time the phone rang everyone froze and quieted. When, after a few moments, no message came from Francesca with news on Parker, everyone reluctantly went back to work. It was hard to concentrate, but staying busy helped me not to focus on “What if…”

At the end of the day, there was still no word.

Back at the hotel, I ordered room service for dinner. Between forkfuls of pesto-soaked gnocchi, I trolled the Internet for area hospitals. I called the closest ones, trying to locate Parker or even an African American woman that had been admitted. Between their poor English and my worse Italian, I had no luck. Finally my body begged to go into sleep mode.

Tomorrow, everything will be better, I promised myself.

But it wasn’t.

In spite of being exhausted, I had a restless night and didn’t sleep well. In the morning, I was disturbed to find that there was still no news about Parker’s condition.

“Any word?” I asked Kevin as soon as I could corner him.

“No. But Serena’s here…” He didn’t finish, and he sounded annoyed—at my question, or at his new boss?

I debated calling Mom. I didn’t want to worry her, even though I’d gotten no clue about Parker’s status, which directly affected my own. I had ways of finding things out. Serena had been with Parker before the accident. She might spill some valuable intel—if I asked the right questions. The problem was where and how to corner her.

At that moment she appeared on the balcony and clapped her hands for attention. She wore a serious frown, but there was a glint in her eye and a sharp edge to her lip that looked like she was almost fighting a smile. Parker told me that things would be a wreck without her. Was she pleased about being in charge now? She opened her mouth to speak, but at the same time there was a loud crash as the front door was flung open.

A statuesque blonde woman in sky-high alligator heels and a crisp navy suit with edges so sharp they could slice off a finger swept through the place with an entourage and on the arm of a man who looked like he’d arrived fresh from Fashion Week in Paris or Milan. His suit was a dark coppery color, set off by a pumpkin-colored shirt and striped tie. A coordinating paisley pocket square peeked out in two perfect points. His hair was wavy, not too long, and he had an exotic look to his eyes. Which didn’t look kindly on any of us.

Behind them came Nelson, and then Ortiz, black-eyed and bandaged, and a new guy—tall, dark, and menacing.

It became instantly silent as everyone, myself included, stared. Serena still stood on the balcony, her mouth open, apparently awestruck. I knew the blonde woman—totally knew her—but couldn’t immediately remember where. Behind me, someone whispered, “It’s Candace Worthington!” I had a name, but still couldn’t place the face.

Her dishy companion unhooked himself from her arm and flipped a slim palm in introduction. “Candace Worthington will be taking over Edge for Parker Phillips,” he said, looking down his nose and speaking in a posh British accent worthy of the stuffiest aristocrat.

“You,” she pointed a danger-orange fingernail at Kevin, “must be Kevin.”

“Managing editor,” he said, stepping up with a hand out for her to shake, but she squashed him with a look.

“Come with me.” Then she glanced at Mr. Dish, who acknowledged her with the barest of smiles. “You too, Varon,” she said to him. “Everyone else,” and she whirled around like a lethal ballerina, looking at each individual person, “you know what you need to do for the next half hour. Do it. And be quiet about it.” She twirled a dismissive wrist jangly with golden bracelets and strode briskly up the steps. When she reached the top she paused to raise her large black sunglasses and glare directly at Kevin. “Coming?” He hurried after her to Parker’s-temporarily-Serena’s office. A moment later, I heard a door slam.

I couldn’t decide if I liked her or hated her. Candace Worthington, Candace Worthington … Who was Candace Worthington?

All eyes turned to the new Suit. He glowered back, assessing everyone. When his critical eyes landed on me, taking in my pink-with-blonde-roots braids, he frowned. I smiled back brightly and turned to Sophie.

“This isn’t going to be good.”

“That’s an understatement,” she replied morosely, tugging me into the kitchen. Yes. Coffee. Now.