Read Online Hysterical Blondeness by Suzanne Macpherson - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzanne Macpherson
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smirk at her from her big mahogany desk. She was going to glare back at her, but the intercom buzzed and Patricia was escorted in. She felt like Dorothy going to see the Wizard. The great and powerful Brett.
Brett was talking into his headset and absentmindedly waved at her to sit.
“How about Friday, then? That’s an entireweek. Isn’t that enough for you?” He sounded slightly whiny.
Strange, thought Patricia.
His eyes grazed her direction and stopped. He looked at her carefully. Patricia sat up a little straighter and smiled a big smile.
“Look, we’ll continue this talk later. I have company,” Brett said. He removed the headset and set it aside.
Patricia could swear she heard a female voice screeching through the microphone until Brett cut the phone with a swift punch of a button.
“Hello, Mr. Nordquist, I’m Patricia Stillwell. I work in the catalogue department. You asked to see me regarding the memo I sent regarding the tie promotion?” Patricia realized she’d overdone “regarding,” but it was too late. She stuck out a tie.
Brett had been staring at her as she stumbled along, his chin resting on his hand, his elbow on his desk in a thoughtful pose of examination. She felt like a bug pinned to a microscope slide.
“I don’t remember seeing you before. How long have you worked here?”
“Almost five years,” Patricia answered, leaving out the whole I-used-to-be-a-fatter-brunette deal.
“And to think I didn’t notice you before. I must have been blind.” He finally detached from his pose and took the tie she offered. “I liked your idea. Great Christmas gift. We’ll have to move fast.” He got up and came around to her side of the desk. “Of course, we’ll have to have a few meetings about this. You and I, that is. Such as lunch? Have you had lunch?”
Her traitorous stomach growled loudly. “No, I guess I haven’t had lunch,” she answered, rolling her eyes.
Brett laughed. He laughed a sort of executive laugh. Patricia tried not to think about the fact he was laughing at her stomach.
“Well, neither have I. Let’s go. We’ll call this a working lunch. Do you mind if we eat downstairs at Via’s?”
“That would be lovely,” Patricia answered. She felt like she was in a robotlike shock. Thirty seconds and Brett had danced around the desk, asked her to lunch, and removed all the ties from her arms. He took her hand and sort of pulledher out of the chair. They were out the door before she could think, which was probably good.
“Dianne, I’ll be out to lunch for an hour. Downstairs at Via’s.”
“No problem. Shall I let that be known, or keep that quiet?”
What an odd question, Patricia thought.
“Let it be known.” Brett flashed her a smile and took her elbow. Patricia felt slightly naked without her NFL ties, her Zucchino Chocolate Fendi handbag (one of Paulie’s best samples,) or any little thing to cling to. Brett stared at her. She gave him another smile with her Angelina Jolie lips done in burgundy red by Pinky this afternoon.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Pinky, spying. Patricia cocked her head and behind Brett’s back made the hysterical female face at Pinky. The face that said, Save me but not really! They both knew it well.
Pinky was lurking about, talking to one of the secretaries, probably waiting for her. She was far from her main department, the men’s floor, with the many inseams and cuffs that needed altering for all the various men with short armsor long legs or vice versa that made up her days. She looked out of place.
They got on the elevator; Patricia waved a tiny wave to Pinky.
“Friend of yours?” Brett asked.
“Yes.”
“She’s kind of an odd duck, isn’t she? I’ve had her do some alterations on my suits.”
“Odd but lovable. She’s my roommate,” Patricia replied. She wasn’t going to sell out her pal in the first five minutes of her sorority rush with Brett.
“Ah,” was all Brett said. “Well,
Brett was talking into his headset and absentmindedly waved at her to sit.
“How about Friday, then? That’s an entireweek. Isn’t that enough for you?” He sounded slightly whiny.
Strange, thought Patricia.
His eyes grazed her direction and stopped. He looked at her carefully. Patricia sat up a little straighter and smiled a big smile.
“Look, we’ll continue this talk later. I have company,” Brett said. He removed the headset and set it aside.
Patricia could swear she heard a female voice screeching through the microphone until Brett cut the phone with a swift punch of a button.
“Hello, Mr. Nordquist, I’m Patricia Stillwell. I work in the catalogue department. You asked to see me regarding the memo I sent regarding the tie promotion?” Patricia realized she’d overdone “regarding,” but it was too late. She stuck out a tie.
Brett had been staring at her as she stumbled along, his chin resting on his hand, his elbow on his desk in a thoughtful pose of examination. She felt like a bug pinned to a microscope slide.
“I don’t remember seeing you before. How long have you worked here?”
“Almost five years,” Patricia answered, leaving out the whole I-used-to-be-a-fatter-brunette deal.
“And to think I didn’t notice you before. I must have been blind.” He finally detached from his pose and took the tie she offered. “I liked your idea. Great Christmas gift. We’ll have to move fast.” He got up and came around to her side of the desk. “Of course, we’ll have to have a few meetings about this. You and I, that is. Such as lunch? Have you had lunch?”
Her traitorous stomach growled loudly. “No, I guess I haven’t had lunch,” she answered, rolling her eyes.
Brett laughed. He laughed a sort of executive laugh. Patricia tried not to think about the fact he was laughing at her stomach.
“Well, neither have I. Let’s go. We’ll call this a working lunch. Do you mind if we eat downstairs at Via’s?”
“That would be lovely,” Patricia answered. She felt like she was in a robotlike shock. Thirty seconds and Brett had danced around the desk, asked her to lunch, and removed all the ties from her arms. He took her hand and sort of pulledher out of the chair. They were out the door before she could think, which was probably good.
“Dianne, I’ll be out to lunch for an hour. Downstairs at Via’s.”
“No problem. Shall I let that be known, or keep that quiet?”
What an odd question, Patricia thought.
“Let it be known.” Brett flashed her a smile and took her elbow. Patricia felt slightly naked without her NFL ties, her Zucchino Chocolate Fendi handbag (one of Paulie’s best samples,) or any little thing to cling to. Brett stared at her. She gave him another smile with her Angelina Jolie lips done in burgundy red by Pinky this afternoon.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Pinky, spying. Patricia cocked her head and behind Brett’s back made the hysterical female face at Pinky. The face that said, Save me but not really! They both knew it well.
Pinky was lurking about, talking to one of the secretaries, probably waiting for her. She was far from her main department, the men’s floor, with the many inseams and cuffs that needed altering for all the various men with short armsor long legs or vice versa that made up her days. She looked out of place.
They got on the elevator; Patricia waved a tiny wave to Pinky.
“Friend of yours?” Brett asked.
“Yes.”
“She’s kind of an odd duck, isn’t she? I’ve had her do some alterations on my suits.”
“Odd but lovable. She’s my roommate,” Patricia replied. She wasn’t going to sell out her pal in the first five minutes of her sorority rush with Brett.
“Ah,” was all Brett said. “Well,
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