Christmas In Whimsy by Clarissa J. Markiewicz

Author:Clarissa J. Markiewicz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Swish’s offices were a glossy magazine cover in their own right. The huge bull pen, twice the size of Upstate’s, stretched out beyond the reception counter’s curved half wall, and it wasn’t technically a bull pen at all. It was divided into cubicles, each enclosed with glass walls, creating a cluster of miniature offices. Several corridors branched off from the bull pen, down which the real offices lined up. At least, that’s what Lexie gleaned from where she stood. Not that she could stand in one place for very long. There were way too many people flying past her, talking on their cell phones, juggling pages, or just moving full speed ahead with serious, driven expressions. Two different sandwich carts were making the rounds, big ones chock-full of hoagies and chips and cookies and fresh-roasted coffee. On each cubicle’s glass walls, black type in Helvetica font appeared on top of white paintbrush strokes, the effect coming off like a torn magazine page. This same décor was splashed on reception’s half wall and down the corridors. Every so often, the slanted red line that was Swish’s logo underscored the “torn pages,” looking like someone had gone to town with a can of spray paint.

Lexie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a place quite so trendy.

When one of the three receptionists hung up his phone and waved Lexie over, she stepped up and asked to see Peter Jacobson. “I’m running a bit late for our appointment,” she said, but the receptionist cut her off there.

“Pete’s in Palm Beach covering a film festival,” he said, leaning forward and swiveling back and forth in his chair. He flicked a pen madly between his fingers, and stared at her through round eyeglasses with thick black frames.

“What?” Lexie yelped. She knew exactly where Pete was, had known since “Mallory from IT” had also verified the calendars of several reporters from Swish’s masthead, until she landed on one who was out on assignment. “We had this meeting on the books for two months,” she insisted to the young man. “I was to come in and prep Mr. Jacobson for his phone interview today.”

After all this, she told herself, she would do nice deeds for receptionists everywhere to make up karma points for all the headaches she was causing today.

“Fine,” said Lexie, “if Swish doesn’t want the interview with Mr. Kubrick, I’ll find a magazine that does.” She spun on her heel and stalked away.

“Stanley Kubrick?” the receptionist called out. “Isn’t he dead?”

Lexie spun back, her left eyebrow arched. “Well,” she said, “he’ll be happy to know that little lie is still working. Which is more than I can say for anyone here after I go to Vogue with the interview of a lifetime.”

“Hang on, hang on,” said the young man, jumping up from his seat and rushing out from behind the counter. “Does it have to be Pete? I can find you someone else to talk to.”

“Hmm. We know Pete. One moment please.” Lexie pulled out her cell phone.

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