watching　the　floor　and　patiently　waiting　for　me　to　join　him。
  “Sorry；”　I　said　as　I　shuffled　aboard。
  “No　problem；”　he　near…whispered；　intently　studying　the　wood…paneled
  floor。　“It’ll　get　easier。”
  “What？　I’m　sorry；　I　didn’t　hear　what　you—”
  “Nothing；　nothing。　Here　you　are；　miss。　Have　a　nice　evening。”　The
  door　opened　to　the　lobby；　where　Emily　was　loudly　chattering　on　her
  Cell　Phone。　She　clicked　it　closed　when　she　saw　me。
  “How’d　it　go？　No　problem；　right？”
  I　thought　about　telling　her　what　had　transpired；　wished　fervently
  that　she　could　be　a　sympathetic　coworker；　that　we　could　be　a　team；
  but　I　knew　I’d　just　be　setting　myself　up　for　another　verbal
  lashing。So　not　interested　right　now。
  “It　was　totally　fine。　No　problems　at　all。　They　were　eating　dinner
  and　I　just　left　everything　exactly　where　you　said。”
  “Good。　Well；　that’s　what　you’ll　do　every　night。　Then　just　take　the
  car　Home　and　you’re　done。　Anyway；　have　fun　at　Marshall’s　party
  tonight。　I’d　definitely　go；　but　I　have　a　bikini　wax　appointment　I
  just　can’t　cancel—do　you　believe　they’re　booked　for　the　next　two
  months？　And　it’s　the　middle　of　winter；　too。　It　must　be　all　the
  people　who　are　going　on　winter　vacations。　Right？　I　just　can’t
  understand　why　every　woman　in　New　York　needs　a　bikini　wax　right　now。
  It’s　just　so　strange；　but　hey；　what　can　you　do？”
  My　head　pounded　to　the　tempo　of　her　voice；　and　it　seemed　that　no
  matter　what　I　did　or　how　I　responded；　I　was　sentenced　to　forever
  listen　to　her　talk　about　bikini　waxes。　It　may　have　been　better　to
  have　her　scream　at　me　about　interrupting　Miranda’s　dinner。
  “Yeah；　what　can　you　do？　Well；　I’d　better　get　going；　I　told　James　I’d
  meet　him　at　nine　and　it’s　already　ten　after。　See　you　tomorrow？”
  “Yep。　Will　do。　Oh；　just　so　you　know；　now　that　you’re　pretty　much
  trained；　you’ll　still　get　in　at　seven；　but　I　don’t　e　in　until
  eight。　Miranda　knows—it’s　understood　that　the　senior　assistant　es
  in　later　since　she　works　so　much　harder。”　I　almost　lunged　at　her
  throat。　“So　just　go　through　the　morning　routine　like　I　taught　you。
  Call　me　if　you　have　to；　but　you　should　know　the　drill　by　now。　’Bye！”
  She　hopped　into　the　backseat　of　the　second　car　that　was　waiting　in
  front　of　the　building。
  “’Bye！”　I　trilled；　a　giant　fake　smile　plastered　on　my　face。　The
  driver　made　a　move　to　get　out　of　the　car　and　open　the　door　for　me；
  but　I　told　him　I　was　fine　to　let　myself　into　the　backseat。　“The
  Plaza；　please。”
  James　had　been　waiting　for　me　on　the　stairs　outside　even　though　it
  couldn’t　have　been　more　than　twenty　degrees。　He’d　gone　Home　to
  change　and　looked　very；　very　skinny　in　black　suede　pants　and　a　white
  ribbed　tank　top；　which　showed　off　his　expertly　applied　midwinter
  bottle　tan。　I　still　looked　appropriately　amateurish　in　my　Gap
  miniskirt。
  “Hey；　Andy；　how’d　the　Book　dropping…off　go？”　We　waited　in　line　to
  check　our　coats　and　I　had　immediately　spotted　Brad　Pitt。
  “Ohmigod；　you’re　joking。　Brad　Pitt’s　here？”
  “Yeah；　well；　Marshall　does　Jennifer’s　hair；　natch。　So　she　must　be
  here　also。　Really；　Andy；　maybe　next　time　you’ll　believe　me　when　I
  tell　you　to　stick　with　me。　Let’s　get　a　drink。”
  The　Reese　and　Johnny　spottings　had　e　back　to　back；　and　by　the
  time　oneA　。M。　rolled　around；　I’d　had　four　drinks　and　was　happily
  gabbing　away　with　a　fashion　assistant　fromVogue　。　We　were　discussing
  bikini　waxes。　Passionately。　And　it　didn’t　even　bother　me。Christ；　I
  thought；　as　I　weaved　through　the　crowd　looking　for　James；　flashing　a
  giant　kiss…ass　smile　in　the　general　direction　of　Jennifer　Aniston
  when　I　passed　by—this　isn’t　a　half…bad　party。　But　I　was　tipsy；　I　had
  to　be　at　work　again　in　less　than　six　hours；　and　I　hadn’t　been　Home
  in　nearly　twenty…four；　so　when　I　spotted　James　making　out　with　one
  of　the　colorists　from　Marshall’s　salon；　I　was　just　about　to　duck　out
  when　I　felt　a　hand　in　the　small　of　my　back。
  “Hey；”　said　the　gorgeous　guy　I’d　spotted　earlier　lurking　in　the
  corner。　I　waited　for　him　to　realize　that　he’d　approached　the　wrong
  girl；　that　I　must’ve　looked　the　same　as　his　girlfriend　from　behind；
  but　he　just　smiled　even　wider。　“Not　so　talkative；　are　you？”
  “Oh；　and　saying　‘hey’　makes　you　articulate；　I　guess？”Andy！　Shut　your
  mouth！　I　berated　silently。Some　absolutely　beautiful　man　approaches
  you　out　of　the　blue　at　a　party　full　of　celebrities　and　you　tell　him
  off　right　away？　But　he　didn’t　seem　offended；　and　even　though　it
  didn’t　seem　possible；　his　smile　increased　in　size　to　an　all…out
  grin。
  “Sorry；”　I　muttered　while　examining　my　nearly　empty　drink。　“My
  name’s　Andrea。　There。　I　think　that’s　a　much　better　way　of
  beginning。”　I　stuck　out　my　hand　and　wondered　what　he　wanted。
  “Actually；　I　liked　your　way　just　fine。　Name’s　Christian。　A　pleasure
  to　meet　you；　Andy。”　He　pushed　a　brown　curl　out　of　his　left　eye　and
  took　a　swig　from　a　bottle　of　Budweiser。　He　looked　vaguely　familiar；
  I　decided；　but　I　couldn’t　place　him。
  “Bud；　huh？”　I　asked；　pointing　to　his　hand。　“I　didn’t　think　they
  served　something　so　lowbrow　at　a　party　like　this。”
  He　laughed；　a　deep；　hearty　laugh　instead　of　the　chuckle　I’d
  expected。　“You　sure　do　say　what　you　think；　don’t　you？”　I　must’ve
  looked　mortified；　because　he　smiled　again　and　said；　“No；　no；　that’s
  a　good　thing。　And　a　rare　thing；　especially　in　this　industry。　I
  couldn’t　bring　myself　to　drink　champagne　from　a　straw　out　of　a
  minibottle；　you　know？　Something　fairly　emasculating　about　that。　So
  the　bartender　dug　one　of　these　out　of　the　kitchen　somewhere。”
  Another　curl　push；　but　it　fell　back　in　his　eye　the　moment　he　took
  his　hand　away。　He　pulled　a　pack　of　cigarettes　from　the　pocket　of　his
  black　sport　coat　and　offered　it　to　me。　I　took　one　and　proceeded　to
  drop　it　immediately；　seizing　the　opportunity　to　examine　him　while　I
  reached　down　to　retrieve　it。
  It　landed　a　few　inches　from　his　shiny；　square…toed　loafers　that
  sported　the　irrefutable　Gucci　tassel；　and　on　the　way　up　I　noticed
  that　his　Diesel　jeans　were　the　perfect　parts　faded；　long；　and　wide
  enough　at　the　bottom　that　they　dragged　a　little　behind　the　shiny
  loafers；　the　ends　frayed　from　repeated　interaction　with　the　soles。　A
  black　belt；　probably　Gucci　but　thankfully　not　recognizable；　kept　the
  jeans　riding　in　the　perfect　low　spot　below　his　waist；　where　he　had
  tucked　in　a　plain　white　cotton　T…shirt—one　that　even　though　it
  easily　could　have　been　a　Hanes　was　definitely　an　Armani　or　a　Hugo
  Boss　and　was　put　in　place　only　to　offset　his　beautiful　plexion。
  His　black　blazer　looked　just　as　expensive　and　well　cut；　perhaps　even
  custom…made　to　fit　his　average…size　but　inexplicably　sexy　frame；　and
  it　was　his　green　eyes　that　manded　the　most　attention。　Seafoam；　I
  thought；　remembering　the　old　J。Crew　colors　we’d　loved　so　much　in
  high　school；　or　perhaps　just　a　straightforward　teal。　The　height；　the
  build；　the　whole　package　looked　vaguely　like　Alex；　just　with　a　whole
  lot　more　Euro　style　and　a　whole　lot　less　Abercrombie。　Slightly
  cooler；　slightly　better　looking。　Definitely　older；　right　around
  thirty。　And　probably　much　too　slick。
  He　immediately　produced　a　flame　and　leaned　in　close　to　make　sure　my
  cigarette　had　caught。　“So　what　brings　you　to　a　party　like　this；
  Andrea？　Are　you　one　of　the　lucky　few　who　can　call　Marshall　Madden
  her　own？”
  “No；　I’m　afraid　not。　At　least　not　yet；　although　he　wasn’t　all　that
  subtle　in　telling　me　that　I　probably　should　be。”　I　laughed；　noticing
  for　a　brief　moment　that　I　wasdesperate　to　impress　this　stranger。　“I
  work　atRunway　。　One　of　the　beauty　guys　dragged　me　here。”
  “Ah；Runway　magazine；　huh？　Cool　place　to　work；　if　you’re　into　S&M　and
  that　sort　of　thing。　How　do　you　like　it？”
  I　wasn’t　sure　if　he　meant　S&M　or　the　job　itself；　but　I　considered
  the　possibility　that　he　got　it；　that　he　was　enough　of　an　insider　to
  know　that　it　wasn’t　exactly　how　it　appeared　to　those　on　the　outside。
  Perhaps　I　should　charm　him　with　the　nightmare　involved　in　dropping
  off　the　Book　earlier　that　night？　No；　no；　I　had　no　idea　who　this　guy
  was　。　。　。　for　all　I　knew　he　also　worked　atRunway　in　some　far…flung
  department　I　hadn’t　even　seen　yet；　or　maybe　for　another　Elias…Clark
  magazine。　Or　maybe；　just　maybe；　he　was　one　of　those　sneakyPage　Six
  reporters　that　Emily　had　so　carefully　warned　me　against。　“They　just
  appear；”　she’d　said　ominously。　“They　just　appear　and　try　to　trick
  you　into　saying　something　juicy　about　Miranda　orRunway　。　Just　be
  aware。”　Between　that　and　the　tracking　ID　cards；　I　was　quite　sure
  thatRunway　’s　surveillance　put　the　mob　to　shame。　TheRun