Over You by McLaughlin Emma & Kraus Nicola

Author:McLaughlin, Emma & Kraus, Nicola [Kraus, Nicola]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harper Collins, Inc.
Published: 2012-08-20T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

At 10:22 p.m. eastern standard time, Bridget’s Moment is but a few away. Max is pumped like an athlete before an Olympic run. Because what is riding on tonight feels Olympian—regaining the confidence of her staff, pulling the recent string of client miscalculations from a nosedive, extinguishing plaguing doubt she can perform in New Hugo City (plus princess) and therefore go to New Hugo University (plus princess). No biggie.

Despite an impressive rally after the skateboarding debacle, the Ex, Inc. team is down to the wire. Max has claimed the supply closet of the Cabin, the hottest of hot clubs, as base camp for the night’s operations. A former client’s mom was the decorator, granting Max VIP access. Ex, Inc. then sent Taylor an official-looking invite and finagled him on the guest list.

The team arrived before opening to set up in the closet. After last August, when a client was shat on by a pigeon minutes before her Moment, forcing a full abort-mission, they now leave nothing to chance and always prep on site. Max is in cramped quarters, surrounded by cases of liquor and cocktail napkins, and is betting everything on an idea she actually got from Ben.

Her expression pensive, Phoebe withdraws her root beer lollipop from her mouth. “Her hair needs a few strategic waves,” she says to Max as she finishes smoking Bridget’s eyelids with Estée Lauder’s Kajal Eye Crayon in teal. “It’s sexy, but I’m filing a request for ‘more.’” One would never guess from Phoebe’s usually naked face, but she is a makeup wunderkind, just one of her many hidden and freakishly developed skills. Growing up, her bossy sisters usually commandeered the Barbies, leaving her to make the best of a dress-up box and Cray-Pas. Soon she could re-create anything she saw on TV.

“Denied,” Max declares as she paces around them in the tiny space, mentally running through the plan like a figure skater prepping for the ice.

“But is it fabulous enough?” Zach asks doubtfully, sitting forward to get a closer look on the stool he’s made from two crates of toilet paper.

“We’re not going for fabulous,” Max reminds them, her hands resting on the belt of her dress. “The fabulous is built in. We want Sam Ronson meets Charlotte Ronson. Casual, cool—and pretty. Bridget just stepped in off the street on any old random Thursday night, got asked to spin some tunes. She shrugs off her coat and gets to work.”

“And lest we forget,” Phoebe pipes in as she selects a pale taupe liner. “Taylor’s porn is vanilla. He goes for the all-American thing.”

“His porn?” Bridget screeches, the pencil slashing a line across her cheek.

“Oh, honey.” Zach pats the sleeve of her tunic. “Okay, I’m going up to keep my eye on the sidewalk.”

A few minutes later, Max claps her hands as Bridget’s eyes are fixed and finalized, the liner slash quickly removed with a damp Q-tip. “Let’s review deets one last time.”

“Max,” Zach’s voice breaks into the room on speaker. “His cab is pulling up.

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