“Lady,” she exclaimed. “LADY!”
“Ouch,” snapped Nicola, yanking her foot out of the warm water. “That hurt. What the hell…?”
“Lady,” the woman repeated, jabbing her nail file toward the TV. “Lady, you on TV. Don’t pretend you don’t see it this time.”
Nicola looked up at the TV and gasped. A title card across the entire screen read, “Who is Paul Stroud’s mystery woman?” above a split screen that showed two photos of Paul with his arms around Nicola from last night—one on the red carpet, and one outside the Little Door. Her heart sank as every woman in the salon turned to look at her. She swallowed hard.
“Hey, do you guys want to put Celine Dion back on?”
* * *
She could already hear Gaynor bellowing in Spanish before she opened the office door, though she couldn’t tell if it was at a person or a phone. She made a mental note to buy a set of Berlitz Spanish CDs for her car and pushed the door open.
Gaynor was on her phone, in the lobby, dressed in a plunging ivory dress with roses creeping up from the hem and bloodred heels. Her face was aglow with fury. She turned to Nicola, and smiled. She took two steps toward her and planted a small peck in the air beside Nicola’s cheek, then covered the mouthpiece of her phone and hissed, “My puta nanny wants a fucking day off,” as if it were the most horrifying news she’d ever received.
Nicola whistled to indicate that she agreed with the gravity of the situation. She went over to her desk. The red light on her phone was blinking, and the screen told her she had 148 voice messages to clear. Usually she didn’t get that many calls all day. Taking a morning off was not a good thing. She grabbed her pen and notepad, sat down, and prepared to start wading through them.
She felt Gaynor’s hands grip her shoulders from behind.
“Good afternoon, mystery girl,” Gaynor purred.
“Oh God, what now?”
“Nico, you’re the talk of the town,” Gaynor crowed. “I’m so proud of you! You did it like a pro. Nobody knows who you are, but now everybody wants to know.”
“Oh yeah, I just saw Entertainment Tonight.” Nicola winced.
“Fuck Entertainment Tonight—you are everywhere, you are in the Reporter, you are in Billboard, you are on every tabloid’s website. The designer called already; the dress is yours to keep and they want to sign you to wear them for the rest of the season. Paul’s agents are trying to set you two up on another date, maybe tonight.…”
“I’m busy tonight, Gaynor.”
“Ay ya, mija, no, tonight is too soon, I agree.”
“I don’t want to see him again, Gaynor.”
“So sensitive. I’ll buy you a gas mask!”
Both of them burst into laughter. The four other girls all looked up from their computers, jealous and confused.
“Delete all your messages,” Gaynor said, hoisting herself onto the edge of Nicola’s desk. She began to outline her vision for Nicola’s involvement in the promotion for Paul’s movie. She envisioned several more dates, with the paparazzi tipped off to each one at the last minute, right through opening weekend. A steady mystery girlfriend would help keep Paul’s profile afloat for the two weeks that the movie would be in theaters.
“I’m not sleeping with him, Gaynor.”
“Yes, of course, Nico. You are a smart one. You should see the women who go back for seconds. You’re here for the rest of the day, no?”
“Sure, where else would I be?” said Nicola, shrugging. Gaynor smiled mysteriously.
“Bueno, bueno,” she muttered, tottering toward her office.
Nicola deleted all the messages in three keystrokes, feeling slightly bad about it, then forwarded her phone to the new intern with instructions to only transfer calls from Gaynor or Billy. The intern, a ravishing teenage Colombian girl named Ingrid, could not mask her contempt.
“Why should I?” she pouted.
“Because Gaynor said so.”
“What will you give me if I do?”
“The option to come back tomorrow.”
Half an hour later, Ingrid appeared again.
“There’s a woman on the phone and she won’t take no for an answer. She says I have to put her through to you or she’s gonna stick a jalapeño up my twat.”
Oh God, it’s Crystal.
Nicola took a deep breath.
“Put her through.”
“Well, hello, Miss Popularity,” sneered Crystal as soon as Nicola picked up her phone. “I’m sure you’re having a great day.”
“Okay, well, if that’s what this call is about, I really have to get on with said day.”