Read Online Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know by Lauren Weisberger - Free Book Online

people that first morning, everyone flashing enormous, toothy white smiles and appearing genuinely interested in meeting me.
    The men were all flamboyantly gay, adorning themselves in second-skin leather pants and ribbed T’s that stretched over bulging biceps and perfect pecs. The art director, an older man sporting champagne blond, thinning hair, who looked like he dedicated his life to emulating Elton John, was turned out in rabbit-fur loafers and eyeliner. No one batted an eye. We’d had gay groups on campus, and I had a few friends who’d come out the past few years, but none of them looked like this. It was like being surrounded by the entire cast and crew of
Rent
– with better costumes, of course.
    The women, or rather the girls, were individually beautiful. Collectively, they were mind-blowing. Most appeared to be about twenty-five, and few looked a day older than thirty. While nearly all of them had enormous, glimmering diamonds on their ring fingers, it seemed impossible that any had actually given birth yet – or ever would. In and out, in and out they walked gracefully on four-inch skinny heels, sashaying over to my desk to extend milky-white hands with long, manicured fingers, calling themselves ‘Jocelyn who works with Hope,’ ‘Nicole from fashion,’ and ‘Stef who oversees accessories.’ Only one, Shayna, was shorter than five-nine, but she was so petite it seemed impossible for her to carry another inch of height. All weighed less than 110 pounds.
    As I sat in my swivel chair, trying to remember everyone’s name, the prettiest girl I’d seen all day swooped in. She wore a rose-colored cashmere sweater that looked like it was spun from pink clouds. The most amazing white hair swirled down her back. Her six-one frame looked as though it carried only enough weight to keep her upright, but she moved with the surprising grace of a dancer. Her cheeks glowed, and her multi-carat, flawless diamond engagement ring emanated an incredible lightness. I thought she’d caught me staring at it, since she flung her hand under my nose.
    â€˜I created it,’ she announced, smiling at her hand and looking at me. I looked to Emily for an explanation, a hint as to who this might be, but she was on the phone again. I thought the girl was referring to the ring, meant that she had actually designed it, but then she said, ‘Isn’t it a gorgeous color? It’s one coat Marshmallow and one coat Ballet Slipper. Actually, Ballet Slipper came first, and then a topcoat to finish it off. It’s perfect – light colored without looking like you painted your nails with White Out. I think I’ll use this every time I get a manicure!’ And she turned on her heels and walked out.
Ah, yes, a pleasure to meet you, too
, I mentally directed toward her back as she strutted away.
    I’d been enjoying meeting all my coworkers; everyone seemed kind and sweet and, except for the beautiful weirdo with the nail polish fetish, they all appeared interested in getting to know me. Emily hadn’t left my side yet, seizing every opportunity to teach me something. She provided running commentary on who was really important, whom not to piss off, whom it was beneficial to befriend because they threw the best parties. When I described Manicure Girl, Emily’s face lit up.
    â€˜Oh!’ she breathed, more excited than I’d heard her about anyone else yet. ‘Isn’t she just amazing?’
    â€˜Um, yeah, she seemed nice. We didn’t really get a chance to talk, she was just, you know, showing me her nail polish.’
    Emily smiled widely, proudly. ‘Yes, well, you do know who she is, don’t you?’
    I wracked my brain, trying to remember if she looked like any movie stars or singers or models, but I couldn’t place her. So, she was famous! Maybe that’s why she hadn’t introduced herself – I was supposed to recognize her. But