Read Online What Pretty Girls Are Made Of by Lindsay Jill Roth - Free Book Online

love you. Bye.” He ended the call and turned to me. “You didn’t hear that conversation,” he said, his eyes laser beaming down into mine.
    But I knew he wanted me to hear every word, or else he would have stayed outside and finished the conversation before coming into my alcove desk area.
    Things worked like that at SSC. If you wanted Sally to know something but didn’t want to tell her yourself, you only had to let a select few people (Giuseppe and Helen) know you wanted to discuss “something private and could you please not repeat it to anyone, especially Sally.” Spies.
    Well, good thing for Giuseppe, I had planned to ask Sally if she wanted to use an expiring American Airlines companion ticket for her to fly with Giuseppe to Heathrow. I figured she would go for that option since it would end up saving her money by getting two business class seats for the price of one.
    “Problem solved,” he chirped when I told him my plan. And then he bought me lunch.

    Feeling empowered by making the smallest of executive decisions, I decided to meet Jill after work for a little retail damage. Based on the fact that the Bloomingdale’s restaurant, Forty Carrots, served frozen yogurt, we chose there to browse.
    “Doesn’t Bloomies’ peanut butter with granola make the perfect end to any sort of day?” Jill commented as we waited in line with about ten other women who obviously felt the same way.
    “Yes, it’s the best,” I said, looking around to see if we knew anyone at the café. You never knew whom you would run into in the fro-yo line.
    “By the way, I think you should get that Karen Millen dress you’ve been talking about for, oh, a month now. We’re here; just do it. It’s on sale. Treat yourself. You’ve been seeing David casually for a few weeks—buy it and you can dress up a bit with him on your next date.”
    Jill knew that I loved this black-and-white striped dress and had strict instructions to watch to see if it went on sale.
    “Honestly, I was thinking the same thing. Thank you, newish job. I can buy a sale dress by a designer I love and not have to worry about eating peanut butter sandwiches for the rest of the week to make up for the lack of funds.”
    Jill laughed, probably at the thought of my seeing peanut butter sandwiches as “budget food,” since they were on her preferred dinner list.
    “So, not to turn the conversation into something serious,” she replied, and a big uh-oh went off in my head. “But you’ve been there for what, three months so far?”
    “Yes,” I replied. “It’s October, so just over three, actually.”
    “I feel like we should do a check-in. What’s working there, what’s not? Are you okay? Missing auditioning? Talk to me.”
    Jill was right. I should check in about the whole situation. I was moving forward at a million miles an hour, and had I thought about how I felt about it all? Not really.
    “Can I buy myself a really pretty dress first and then we can talk about this at home on the couch? I’m dying to change into sweat pants.”
    “Of course you can,” she said with a laugh.
    Relocated to the couch under a blanket and in our matching Northwestern sweats, Jill and I had our three-month check-in.
    “Okay,” I said. “Right off the bat, I have to say that a plus is that I love having a day job and nights free. It’s huge. Seriously, people don’t realize how novel that is until they haven’t lived like that for a while.”
    Jill nodded. “Definitely easier dating-wise, that’s for sure,” she said. “Remember when you’d have to start your dates after your night shift ended?”
    “Yeah, that was brutal. It’s weird, though,” I continued, perhaps realizing that I needed to have this conversation more than I’d thought. “My life feels a lot steadier now that I’m on a regular schedule, and I can’t tell you how nice it is to swipe my debit card without worrying if it will be declined, but the workdays are becoming more