Chapter 2

My milk shake brings all the boys to the yard

And there like

It's better than yours

Damn right it's better than yours

I can teach you

But I have to charge

I know you –

It was a reflex action. Immediately when she heard the song blasting from her radio clock, Marissa slammed her hand on the alarm effectively shutting it off. Whining, she got up from the bed groggily as she padded across her miniscule bedroom to the living room to find her roommate squatting on the sofa, bugged eyed. Taylor was holding a spatula on her right hand and an insect repellent on the other.

"Good morning Tay…"

"Be careful Marissa!" Taylor screeched as Marissa immediately halted her movement.

"What? What?" Marissa asked, panicky.

"Flying cockroach," Taylor answered as her eyes scanned the entire area around her. Marissa rolled her eyes and proceeded to plant herself on the couch beside Taylor.

"Cockroach from last night?" Marissa questioned with a yawn.

"Yes. That pesky, meaty ugly brown creature is still in our apartment. Probably having a jolly fun good time while I sit here with bloodshot eyes and dark circles waiting for it to make its presence known. Surrender you motherfucker!"

"I don't think it knows what motherfucker means!"

"Jesus! Shut up! You're not helping."

Marissa frowned as she took in what Taylor just mentioned seconds ago. "Taylor…" she said slowly, "What time did you wake up this morning?"

Without looking at her friend, Taylor answered in a monotonous voice, "I didn't remember waking up this morning."

Marissa turned to face friend. "Did you even sleep last night?"

"I already told you, I didn't recall waking up this morning," Taylor said slightly irritated. "It's not like it's a big deal. I'm on suspension…I have another six days for me to sleep. No biggie."

"Whatever. I don't care. It's your body, not mine. I'm taking a bath. Have fun hunting. Oh, when you do catch it, I reckon you won't…remember to frame and hang it somewhere like a memento."

With that Marissa dragged herself off the couch and headed towards the bathroom. Taylor saw her friend's fleeting form at the corner of her eyes. She kept still, not moving. Not even a single millimeter. Just then she caught a briefest glimpse of the cockroach darting across the hardwood floors. Taylor's breathed hitched. In quick succession, she ran for the drawer and took out a pair of leather boots and zipped it up to cover her exposed legs. Gripping the vermin poison as though it was an assault weapon, she sprayed it all over the floor.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…"

Covering every single section, she was unaware that the cockroach was heading for her direction.

"Aaahhhh!" Taylor shrieked when the brown creature skimmed across her leather-clad feet and disappeared under the bookcase. Frantically, she dashed across the room and resumed squatting on the couch.

When Marissa left the apartment, Taylor was still on the couch.

&&&&&

Apparently her notion of business casual which consist of chuffed, charcoal gray pants, white oxford shirt and an understated low pumps stood out from the rest of the Harper-Nichol's employees strutting across the grand lobby of the skyscraper building. All of the sudden, she felt very self-conscious as she trudged to the lift while strangers stared at her attire. Everyone else was immaculately dressed, with fancy tops, leather blazers, cropped trench coats, mini skirts, skinny-leg jeans, leather boots, stiletto heels, wedges and Tod's moccasins. Once she entered the elevator alone, Marissa forced herself to do the chakra breathing techniques she learned from the ashram when she was still in high school.

"Re…" she inhaled.

"Lax…" she exhaled.

"Re…"

"…Lax…"

After a few concentrated breaths, her heart rate slowly slightly. Marissa heard the Bing sound and she knew she has reached the sixtieth floor. Cautiously, she took a few steps out of the lift and scanned her area. To her relieve, no one has spotted her. Yet. Marissa walked across the marble floors to the gorgeous receptionist, dressed well than her.

"Hi, I'm looking for Anna Stern for my nine o'clock interview…"

The reception did a once over Marissa's clothes and narrowed her eyes on her brown briefcase. Marissa had an awkward smile on her face as she began to stare away from the receptionist's scrutiny.

"Hey," a skinny girl said as she strutted to the receptionist's area. "What's your name?"

"Me?" Marissa asked dumbly.

She laughed, and not in a nice way. "Who else here stood out from the pack that I not recognize." She held out her right hand, her very, very thin hand. "Anna Stern, Kirsten's senior assistant."

"Oh, Marissa Cooper. I'm here for the interview…" Marissa shook the blonde's hand.

Anna, looked remarkably well-dressed and edgy looking in low-rise dark indigo jeans, a tight, long-sleeved turtleneck tee shirt, a two-inch thick leather belt with a massive jeweled buckle that was a shape of a G, and an expensive looking black leather boots. She was pretty enough to pull of her ultra-boyish short haircut.

"Hey, welcome," she muttered giving Marissa another up down look over. "Nice glasses."

Marissa's heart surged. Was she serious? Marissa thought. Or was she being sarcastic? Anna's tone was difficult to pinpoint. Anna stared at Marissa for a while longer before sighing dramatically. "Very well, let's get to it. I'm Kirsten former junior assistant; I recently just got promoted to a senior position. So basically I'm replacing myself and you're very lucky Kirsten is not here," she said.

"Not that she's not great, of course, she is. She will only be back next Monday since Kirsten is busy meeting Galliano, Lagerfeld and Albert Elbaz," Anna continued as Marissa was already left clueless about the names the blonde just mentioned.

"Who's Kirsten?" Marissa asked as she followed Anna down the off-white corridors.

Anna turned to her slightly and gave Marissa an incredulous look, "Omigod…I can't believe you just said that. Kirsten is Posh editor-in-chief, not to mention a legend and extraordinaire. She was solely responsible for giving greater importance to both clothing and body. Promoting a new form of chic by combining jeans with haute couture. It brokered a class-mass rapprochement that reformed modern fashion to this day," Anna went on with a slightly awe. "Seriously, you haven't heard of that? Where have you been living? Under a shell? Not surprising really, I mean with your interesting chosen attire," the blonde finished off with a few snickers.

So she was being sarcastic earlier, Marissa thought. Or well, what were you expecting Marissa.

They walked side by side in silence through the winding hallways to the center of the floor, where Kirsten's office suite was located. Anna sat on her swivel chair and crossed her legs, effortlessly. "That is your desk, obviously," she motioned to a smooth, L-shaped Formica table that was directly opposite hers. Perched on top of the table were a brand new iMac computer, a phone, some filing trays and few pens and a notepad.

"Wait, my desk?" Marissa asked with furrowed brows.

"Oh, didn't I tell you…you're hired. Welcome,' she deadpanned.

"But…you haven't interviewed me yet…"

"Don't need to. I know you're qualified. I mean look at your clothes," she drawled with a hint of sarcasm.

"What did you meant when you said, qualified?"

Anna let out a loud, overly dramatic sigh. "Kirsten told me how much the previous three assistants that I sent her sucked. So she hinted that I should find someone different," she paused giving Marissa a pointed look. "Unlike the previous ones who wore stylish clothes, worships the magazine…so you're it. You're different. Oh, if it makes you feel better, at least you're thin. Size two am I right? I know I'm right," she finished off with a smug grin.

"Thin?" the brunette asked, yet again puzzled.

"Oh yeah. Kirsten likes thin girls. Very thin girls. So even if you're like a size six, you won't be considered. So welcome on board to a place a million girls would die to work at."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I don't think you're taking this seriously. Posh is the number one fashion magazine. It's not just a magazine; it has long functioned as a bible for anyone worshipping luxury, celebrity and style. I would spend another two years as Kirsten's senior assistant, after which I'd be skyrocketing to an amazing fashion position in Posh and if I do complete my three-year assistant program – I'll have the ultimate guarantee of going places in the fashion world. It is that divine," she marveled as in came another skinny looking girl with a similar height as Anna, holding a clipboard probably going through the checklist of things she needed to cover.

"Morning Anna," the dark-haired girl greeted in a singsong manner, giving Anna an overtly large smile as the blonde gave a curt nod. Summer then realized there was a lanky girl sitting on her swivel chair.

"You're new? I reckoned I haven't seen you before. It's either that, or I'm actually getting more absentminded," she said with a laugh as she approached Marissa.

"That's Marissa Cooper, the new me," Anna told Summer as Marissa rose from her seat holding out her hand. But she was surprised when Summer embraced her like a long-lost friend.

"Marissa, honey, we're so happy to have you with us!" she breathed, casting a quick glance at Marissa's outfit. A fleeting, wide-eyed look almost distressed, passed over her face before she fixed a broad smile.

Just then, Summer's cell phone biped. She flipped it and stared at the screen. "Alex is here," she said with a big grin as Anna proceeded to tell Marissa, "Alex is Kirsten's daughter, also heir of Harper-Nichol's fortunes not to mention one of the brightest fashion editor Posh has ever had, Kirsten's protégé of course…" she trailed off as Summer cut her off.

"A prominent figure in New York social scene, frequently described as the…"

"It girl," both Summer and Anna finished before Summer continued, "And my boss. The best boss a girl could ever wished for," she said with a dreamy, far-away look.

"Yes, and I'm so jealous. She is so different from Kirsten, not that Kirsten not great, she is," Anna rambled, "But Alex is so…hahhh,' she sighed, "Wears her trademark MJs…"

"MJ?"

"Marc Jacobs," both the assistants said exasperatedly.

"Doesn't ring any bells, sorry," Marissa said earnestly.

"Omigod…"

"…Omigod… I can't believe you don't know who Mark Jacobs is," Anna said.

"He's like the most genius gay American designer ever, since Tom Ford," Summer added.

Just then the French doors swung opened and in comes a young élan looking blonde clad in pinstriped jacket with a buttoned front, tow-tiered bodice with side flap pockets, long sleeves with buttoned cuffs. Matched with a charcoal black flat front, slim legs Marc Jacob jeans and she had on a Jackie-O styled shades, placed on top of her head.

Summer gasped before rushing forward towards Alex, making the blonde stopped her movement as Summer ran her hands all over her clothes.

"Omigod…" she breathed out. "It's the new Dolce & Gabbana menswear inspired outfit…Marc Jacobs pants…awww…" she trailed off hugging the blonde tightly.

Marissa was simply awed by the blonde beauty that stood in front of her with a flushed face, as she looked around uncomfortably. When the blonde's eyes met hers, Marissa swore her heart almost skipped a beat.

Lindsay, who? Marissa thought.

Alex caught the lanky girl giving her dreamy looks; she shrugged off her attire and focused on the girl's face.

Two o'clock, cutie alert! The blonde thought.

"Summer…I can't breath…"

"Oh…" her assistant blushed before apologizing, "Sorry…I couldn't resist…"

"We've discussed about this didn't we?" Glancing at Marissa, Alex asked politely, "Sorry I didn't catch your name."

"Oh! How rude of me," Summer said in an ostentatious manner. "Alex this is Marissa Cooper, Kirsten's new junior assistant…"

"Oh…" Alex held out her hand, which Marissa noted was very, very thin too.

"Marissa this is Alex Nicholl, my boss and contributing editor for Posh magazine," Summer finished as Marissa shook Alex's hand. Trembling slightly.

Alex flashed her a charming smile before saying, "Hi, pleased to meet you. I'm Alex."

Marissa felt her throat has gone dry as she said too softly, "Ahh…Marissa Cooper…"

Alex gave the brunette another charming smile, noticing the girl's shy demeanor. "When do you start?"

Anna answered on the behalf of Marissa. "Today."

&&&&&

By two o'clock, Anna told Marissa she was going for a break and that Marissa could have hers after she returns.

"Why can't I have a lunch break too?"

Anna answered in a superior tone, "Because I'm the senior assistant and I take priority. Anyway, you have to mend the desk." She strutted as she called out, "You're chained to that desk, Marissa. Be back in fifteen."

The brunette sighed as stared at her computer screen.

&&&&&

Thirty minutes later, Marissa and Summer smoked a cigarette outside of the Harper-Nichol building. The taller brunette got startled as Summer practically shrieked into her ears.

"Omigod!"

Marissa looked around frantically, wondering what made her newly acquainted colleague freaked out.

"Will you fucking look at that? Summer hissed.

Marissa followed her gaze to where Summer pointed to find herself looking at a thirty-something year old career woman dressed in a sensible formal wear and pumps. Nothing remarkable. She appeared slightly haggard; she had a sort of drab, auburn hair and fairly mediocre body.

"Who is it?" Marissa said, leaning in conspiratorially. Trying to appear more interested than she actually is.

"Not who, what!" Summer screamed in response.

"What?" Marissa asked completely out of the loop.

"Omigod! What did you mean, what? Are you fucking kidding me? Don't you not see it? It's big enough!"

The taller brunette continued to stare at the woman, wondering what Summer was referring to that got her all excited.

"Look…at…her…bag," Summer said slowly. "That's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen!"

Marissa squinted trying to notice anything special about the bad. It looked like any other bag to her. Nothing special.

"Omigod…I'm so jealous of her. She has the Birkin bag!"

"The what bag?"

Summer peered at Marissa, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape. "You really don't know, do you?"

Marissa shook her head as Summer gestured her arms wildly. "It's the Hermes Birkin bag! Named after Jane Birkin herself. The first huge hit was the Kelly bag, named after Grace Kelly. But this bag, the Birkin is thousand times more prestigious – it's the Birkin."

The shorter girl stared at Marissa's face expectantly and the taller brunette mumbled, "Mmm…nice bag."

She gestured her arms wildly again, "It's bloody gorgeous! That Birkin the lady was carrying is the rarest one of them all. It has an authentic crocodile print. It could cost up to more than twenty grand."

Marissa was inhaling her cigarette when she heard Summer's sentence. She choked. "What?" she breathed out. "You're kidding me? For a bag? That's absurd."

"Omigod! It's not just a bag Marissa! It's the Birkin!"

"So?"

"It's a lifestyle. Status symbol. Hermes has a waiting line for that bag. You gotta wait for at least two years to get one. It's that popular."

"Still, it's just a bag…I don't see what the big deal is?"

"All the A-List celebrity has one. Victoria Beckham, Sarah Jessica Parker, Nicole Richie…all of them have the Birkin."

Summer sighed dramatically and started patting Marissa's head. Like how you would pat your own puppy. "You have so much to learn, honey. Poor you…" She continued patting as Marissa gave an awkward smile. "Don't worry…Summer is here to help you…"

&&&&&&

Ten minutes later, both of them were in the elevator. There was a comfortable silence between them. Then, Summer broke the silence when she exclaimed, "It's the Birkin!"

Marissa rolled her eyes to the back of her head.

&&&&&&

On other side of the sixtieth floor office, Alex was going through the mock up of September's issue when Seth sashayed in, carrying a newspaper with him. He threw it on her table before looking at her expectantly. Alex frowned at him.

"Turn to page six," Seth ordered.

Alex sighed in response and complied to her former stepbrother's demand. Turning to page six, her jaw dropped when she saw a headshot of Hailey and herself and a caption that says: Norman Gates was carried off by special beings…

"What's the meaning of this?" Seth questioned, placing his hands on his slender hips as it jutted out slightly to the right.

"Omigod, omigod, omigod," Alex murmured.

Seth bristled, "You know well enough how tricky the paparazzi could be, you have to keep an eye out for them. Alex, you of all people should know about this."

"I know, I know…But you know how loud and out of the world Hailey could be. I tried to shut her up but she just wouldn't shush!" The blonde continued, "Jesus! The paparazzi seriously need to get a life!"

Just then Summer called from her seat, "Alex! Would you stop saying the Lord's name in vain?"

"Seriously, you hired that midget?" Seth asked conspiratorially.

"I can hear you!"

Both Alex and Seth rolled their eyes at Summer's remark.

"Calm down, Polly Pockets," Seth drawled.

"Omigod…Jodie's going to kill me, " Alex whined ignoring the banter happening between Seth and her assistant.

"Don't you call me, Polly Pockets…gay boy!"

"Wow…what an awesome comeback," Seth countered, sarcasm clear in his tone.

"First, my mother's divorce is splashed all over the tabloids…"

"I'll freaking throw my shoe at you!"

"…then this thing with Hailey…"

"Oh! It's on midget…"

"…My life's going into smokes…"

"Oh…I'll go rage blackout on you…

"…Mom's going to kill me…"

"Don't you dare. I'm the head stylist here, I could report your behavior to the management and you'll be sack…"

"…Jodie's going to freak out on me…"

"Did you just pull a rank on me? You coward gay boy…"

"…Hailey doesn't care…"

"I did pulled a rank on you…What? Not happy?"

"…Obviously, these two goons don't care…"

"Of course I'm not happy you-"

When the phone suddenly rang, Seth and Summer abruptly stopped arguing and stared at the phone waiting for the blonde to pick it up.

Alex answered the call, "Hello? Alex Nicholl speaking."

"Oh, don't you fucking hello me missy!" Jodie's voice came from the speaker as Alex flinched. Jodie Suarez is the Nicholl family personal publicist.

"Your sister, that fucking fuck! That fucking fuck! What the fuck was she thinking having fucking private conversation like that in fucking Red Door! Paparazzi's spies are fucking everywhere in places like that! And you should fucking know that Alex. Now I've got your mother's fucking case to control and now, you and that loony sister of yours fucking added me another fucking task…"

Seth countered the number of fucks, Jodie had just said.

"…And I just realized how many times I've said the word fuck! But you know what? I don't fucking care!" With that, Jodie abruptly ended the call.

"Jesus…" Alex muttered, running her fingers through her blonde mane.

"Stop saying the Lord's name in vain, Alex."