Disclaimer: See previous chapter.
Rating: Still the same.
**Stacey McGill**
"Move back, and set up the shot. Beautiful! And now, a little more to the right for that shot; I want to see more of your figure's curve in this one. Excellent! But next time, a little less of the backside, okay? Now..."
Stacey McGill tuned out the words of the photographer as she made the turns he requested, refraining from rolling her eyes. She ran her hand through her hair absent-mindedly, and then was brought back to earth by the photographer's sharp voice.
"Ms. McGill! Did I ask you to move? You just ruined the symmetry of my shot!"
Stacey gave him a slightly put-out look. "Gavin, please relax."
The aforementioned Gavin pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his red, sweaty face with it. "Look, Ms. McGill. These pictures are appearing in your portfolio, and they have to be perfect. This could be your biggest job ever! You could be famous!"
Stacey laughed and stepped down from the box that Gavin had had her standing on. "You talk like this is a fashion shoot or something," she said, amused.
"It might as well be." Gavin gave her an irritated look. "Now can we PLEASE finish taking these photographs?"
"Not until you calm down." Stacey smiled and extended her hand to Gavin, with her most engaging smile. "Come and join Samantha and I for lunch, and then we'll finish here."
Gavin grimaced, but covered his camera and placed it on the floor. "You sound just like my wife," he complained, walking out the door.
Stacey laughed. "We're meeting in the café on the lower level in ten minutes!"
"Yeah, whatever." Gavin waved a dismissive hand and headed for the elevator.
Stacy turned and shut her door, then began to clean her workspace, collecting purse, jacket and cell phone. She paused before leaving, glancing at her handiwork, which lay on a large, white table.
"It's beautiful....and I don't care how concieted that sounds," she muttered. This was her brainchild, her masterpiece. She reached out and touched the model skyscraper with careful fingers, almost unable to believe that this was her work.
Stacey quietly locked her office and headed for the stairs, lost in thought. It had been four years since she'd began a career in architecture, and she still couldn't believe that she was in such a field. She always thought she'd be a model, or maybe a math teacher.
Heck, EVERYONE thought she'd end up in the fashion industry. But, after dating an architect from Chicago, Colin Saunders, in her final year at NYU, she'd found herself fascinated with the process of measuring, creating proportions, designing a shape and angles, and everything else that contributed to designing a building.
Although they had broken up within six months, her curiosity about the field remained. She was fascinated by the intricate designs that Colin created, and also enjoyed the mathematical challenge presented by figuring out the angles, materials, footage, and proportions necessary to make a functional edifice.
It was in this career that Stacey found an outlet that would allow her to be stylish and creative, yet hone and use her impressive mathematical reasoning. After much deliberation, Stacey withdrew from school and transferred to the New York school of architecture, graduating with flying colors and picking up odd jobs for a couple of years- mostly working on design teams with groups of older, more seasoned men who treated her with a polite yet condenscending manner.
Stacey, however, took this treatment in stride, picking up helpful tips from them, noting their successes as well as their failures, and copying whatever was beneficial as fast and as far as she could. Her parents had been completely shocked by her choice in career- her father pleased, her mother slightly apprehensive. Stacey had refused to be discouraged by anything, and stuck with it. She'd become something of a workaholic as well- her black Prada tote, which carried her portfolio and miniature blueprints, never left her side.
And so, here she was. Now she, and only she- had been chosen to head a design team that would be responsible for creating a new Microsoft headquarters building- right in the heart of New York.
She still couldn't believe it.
Stacey's thoughts were interrupted when she heard her cell phone ring. She dug deep into her Prada purse, fishing the phone out and holding it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Stacey?"
"Oh, hi- look, Ethan, can I call you back? I've got a lunch date with Samantha. Yeah, I love you too. Bye."
Stacey shouldered her bag and headed for the cafeteria, now at a run. Then she remembered. "Shit!"
Turning around, she went into the nearest ladies room and ducked into a stall to take her blood sugar. Then she hurried to the cafe.
Samantha was already seated with Gavin, making small talk. Stacey hurried over and gave her stepmother a kiss on the cheek, then took her seat.
"I ordered you the usual," Samantha said, indicating the large ceaser salad that sat on the table.
"Thank you." Stacey sat and picked up her fork. "Where's Daddy?"
"He had some files he had to finish up." Like father, like daughter, thought Stacey. "How's work, sweetie?"
"Decent." Stacey stuffed her mouth with lettuce so she wouldn't have to talk. She desperately wanted to finish her photo shoot before two o' clock so that she could work on some of the building foundation's dimensions before her five o'clock meeting with the engineer.
Samantha obviously wanted to talk, though. "My, you are certainly getting along well in this career of yours. I really am proud of you, but-"
"Thanks, Samantha." Stacey attempted to cut her off, but her stepmother was not to be daunted. "Now, I wish you'd just find someone nice, and settle down, and-"
Stacey attempted to handle the problem by tuning her out, but Gavin joined in.
"I couldn't agree with you more," he was saying. "Young women are too independent nowadays. I don't think it's decent for a pretty young woman such as yourself to be living alone, and-"
Stacey fixed a glare on her now nodding stepmother, who obviously had forgotten that SHE had been quite the modern woman- AND well into her thirties- when she met Jack. What is WRONG with her? Stacey thought irritably. It's not like she's MY mother.
"Honey-" Samantha's voice broke into her thoughts. "Whatever happened to that young man you were seeing? The artsy one."
"Ethan?" Unbidden, a picture of her boyfriend popped into her mind. At thirty, he looked much the same as he had at fifteen and throughout college- shaggy, longish dark hair, high cheekbones, megawatt smile, baggy clothes- usually splattered with paint- and his trademark silver earring. The only visible change was signifigantly broader shoulders and a soul patch. "We're still going out."
"You two have been dating on and off for years. When is he going to get serious and propose?"
"SA-manthaaaaa," Stacey whined in protest. The truth of the matter was, though, Ethan had proposed to her over four times in the past year and a half. She always turned him down, though. She loved him- of that she was certain- but she just couldn't fathom.....
Her thoughts were interrupted once again by Samantha's tirade. "You're twenty-eight, honey. I know that's young by today's standards, but you're established in your career, and...."
"Would you look at the time!" Stacey leaped to her feet, glad to escape. "Gavin, c'mon. We've got to finish this up." Leaving the remains of her salad on the table for the waiter to deal with, she made a run for the stairs.
"Gavin, why don't you set up- I've got to check my messages." Stacey set down her tote and headed for the answering machine in her office. She pressed play and took off her jacket, hanging it on the coat rack.
"Hey, Stace, it's me, Dad. Sorry for not being able to make lunch. Hope you had a good time with Sam. Talk to you later, sweetie."
Stacey rolled her eyes and rummaged in her desk for a pen. 'Good time,' indeed. She'd kill her father if he even left her alone with Samantha again.
"Stacey? It's Ethan. Just calling you back. Look- you want to do dinner tonight? Junior's, maybe? I'll call you back. Love you."
Stacey smiled. What a sweetie. And she deserved a night out, too, she had to admit. She pulled out her palm pilot and appointment book. Let's see, now, if she moved her six-o'-clock meeting up to four....was it even possible?
"Um, Stace?"
Stacey stopped rifling through her book and looked up. The female voice on the machine was familiar, but she couldn't place it.
"Stacey, its Mary Anne, from Connecticut. How are you? How's Ethan?"
Mary Anne? Stacey smiled at the sound of her friend's voice. She'd gone to visit her and Cary, briefly, about a month ago when they'd had a baby shower. She had just happened to be in town that weekend, visiting her mother. "Wonder if she had the baby yet," muttered Stacey. The message continued.
"Stacey, I've got something important to ask you. Call me back, okay?" the message ended.
"You have no new messages."
Curious as to Mary Anne's news, Stacey picked up her cell phone. "Gavin, hold off for a sec," she said, scrolling through the saved numbers. "Let's see, Randy, Raeffelo, Rero..Retlin!" she quickly hit the speed dial button and waited. Three rings. Then a female voice said, "Hello?"
"Mary Anne? This is Stacey. What's going on?"
Rating: Still the same.
**Stacey McGill**
"Move back, and set up the shot. Beautiful! And now, a little more to the right for that shot; I want to see more of your figure's curve in this one. Excellent! But next time, a little less of the backside, okay? Now..."
Stacey McGill tuned out the words of the photographer as she made the turns he requested, refraining from rolling her eyes. She ran her hand through her hair absent-mindedly, and then was brought back to earth by the photographer's sharp voice.
"Ms. McGill! Did I ask you to move? You just ruined the symmetry of my shot!"
Stacey gave him a slightly put-out look. "Gavin, please relax."
The aforementioned Gavin pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his red, sweaty face with it. "Look, Ms. McGill. These pictures are appearing in your portfolio, and they have to be perfect. This could be your biggest job ever! You could be famous!"
Stacey laughed and stepped down from the box that Gavin had had her standing on. "You talk like this is a fashion shoot or something," she said, amused.
"It might as well be." Gavin gave her an irritated look. "Now can we PLEASE finish taking these photographs?"
"Not until you calm down." Stacey smiled and extended her hand to Gavin, with her most engaging smile. "Come and join Samantha and I for lunch, and then we'll finish here."
Gavin grimaced, but covered his camera and placed it on the floor. "You sound just like my wife," he complained, walking out the door.
Stacey laughed. "We're meeting in the café on the lower level in ten minutes!"
"Yeah, whatever." Gavin waved a dismissive hand and headed for the elevator.
Stacy turned and shut her door, then began to clean her workspace, collecting purse, jacket and cell phone. She paused before leaving, glancing at her handiwork, which lay on a large, white table.
"It's beautiful....and I don't care how concieted that sounds," she muttered. This was her brainchild, her masterpiece. She reached out and touched the model skyscraper with careful fingers, almost unable to believe that this was her work.
Stacey quietly locked her office and headed for the stairs, lost in thought. It had been four years since she'd began a career in architecture, and she still couldn't believe that she was in such a field. She always thought she'd be a model, or maybe a math teacher.
Heck, EVERYONE thought she'd end up in the fashion industry. But, after dating an architect from Chicago, Colin Saunders, in her final year at NYU, she'd found herself fascinated with the process of measuring, creating proportions, designing a shape and angles, and everything else that contributed to designing a building.
Although they had broken up within six months, her curiosity about the field remained. She was fascinated by the intricate designs that Colin created, and also enjoyed the mathematical challenge presented by figuring out the angles, materials, footage, and proportions necessary to make a functional edifice.
It was in this career that Stacey found an outlet that would allow her to be stylish and creative, yet hone and use her impressive mathematical reasoning. After much deliberation, Stacey withdrew from school and transferred to the New York school of architecture, graduating with flying colors and picking up odd jobs for a couple of years- mostly working on design teams with groups of older, more seasoned men who treated her with a polite yet condenscending manner.
Stacey, however, took this treatment in stride, picking up helpful tips from them, noting their successes as well as their failures, and copying whatever was beneficial as fast and as far as she could. Her parents had been completely shocked by her choice in career- her father pleased, her mother slightly apprehensive. Stacey had refused to be discouraged by anything, and stuck with it. She'd become something of a workaholic as well- her black Prada tote, which carried her portfolio and miniature blueprints, never left her side.
And so, here she was. Now she, and only she- had been chosen to head a design team that would be responsible for creating a new Microsoft headquarters building- right in the heart of New York.
She still couldn't believe it.
Stacey's thoughts were interrupted when she heard her cell phone ring. She dug deep into her Prada purse, fishing the phone out and holding it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Stacey?"
"Oh, hi- look, Ethan, can I call you back? I've got a lunch date with Samantha. Yeah, I love you too. Bye."
Stacey shouldered her bag and headed for the cafeteria, now at a run. Then she remembered. "Shit!"
Turning around, she went into the nearest ladies room and ducked into a stall to take her blood sugar. Then she hurried to the cafe.
Samantha was already seated with Gavin, making small talk. Stacey hurried over and gave her stepmother a kiss on the cheek, then took her seat.
"I ordered you the usual," Samantha said, indicating the large ceaser salad that sat on the table.
"Thank you." Stacey sat and picked up her fork. "Where's Daddy?"
"He had some files he had to finish up." Like father, like daughter, thought Stacey. "How's work, sweetie?"
"Decent." Stacey stuffed her mouth with lettuce so she wouldn't have to talk. She desperately wanted to finish her photo shoot before two o' clock so that she could work on some of the building foundation's dimensions before her five o'clock meeting with the engineer.
Samantha obviously wanted to talk, though. "My, you are certainly getting along well in this career of yours. I really am proud of you, but-"
"Thanks, Samantha." Stacey attempted to cut her off, but her stepmother was not to be daunted. "Now, I wish you'd just find someone nice, and settle down, and-"
Stacey attempted to handle the problem by tuning her out, but Gavin joined in.
"I couldn't agree with you more," he was saying. "Young women are too independent nowadays. I don't think it's decent for a pretty young woman such as yourself to be living alone, and-"
Stacey fixed a glare on her now nodding stepmother, who obviously had forgotten that SHE had been quite the modern woman- AND well into her thirties- when she met Jack. What is WRONG with her? Stacey thought irritably. It's not like she's MY mother.
"Honey-" Samantha's voice broke into her thoughts. "Whatever happened to that young man you were seeing? The artsy one."
"Ethan?" Unbidden, a picture of her boyfriend popped into her mind. At thirty, he looked much the same as he had at fifteen and throughout college- shaggy, longish dark hair, high cheekbones, megawatt smile, baggy clothes- usually splattered with paint- and his trademark silver earring. The only visible change was signifigantly broader shoulders and a soul patch. "We're still going out."
"You two have been dating on and off for years. When is he going to get serious and propose?"
"SA-manthaaaaa," Stacey whined in protest. The truth of the matter was, though, Ethan had proposed to her over four times in the past year and a half. She always turned him down, though. She loved him- of that she was certain- but she just couldn't fathom.....
Her thoughts were interrupted once again by Samantha's tirade. "You're twenty-eight, honey. I know that's young by today's standards, but you're established in your career, and...."
"Would you look at the time!" Stacey leaped to her feet, glad to escape. "Gavin, c'mon. We've got to finish this up." Leaving the remains of her salad on the table for the waiter to deal with, she made a run for the stairs.
"Gavin, why don't you set up- I've got to check my messages." Stacey set down her tote and headed for the answering machine in her office. She pressed play and took off her jacket, hanging it on the coat rack.
"Hey, Stace, it's me, Dad. Sorry for not being able to make lunch. Hope you had a good time with Sam. Talk to you later, sweetie."
Stacey rolled her eyes and rummaged in her desk for a pen. 'Good time,' indeed. She'd kill her father if he even left her alone with Samantha again.
"Stacey? It's Ethan. Just calling you back. Look- you want to do dinner tonight? Junior's, maybe? I'll call you back. Love you."
Stacey smiled. What a sweetie. And she deserved a night out, too, she had to admit. She pulled out her palm pilot and appointment book. Let's see, now, if she moved her six-o'-clock meeting up to four....was it even possible?
"Um, Stace?"
Stacey stopped rifling through her book and looked up. The female voice on the machine was familiar, but she couldn't place it.
"Stacey, its Mary Anne, from Connecticut. How are you? How's Ethan?"
Mary Anne? Stacey smiled at the sound of her friend's voice. She'd gone to visit her and Cary, briefly, about a month ago when they'd had a baby shower. She had just happened to be in town that weekend, visiting her mother. "Wonder if she had the baby yet," muttered Stacey. The message continued.
"Stacey, I've got something important to ask you. Call me back, okay?" the message ended.
"You have no new messages."
Curious as to Mary Anne's news, Stacey picked up her cell phone. "Gavin, hold off for a sec," she said, scrolling through the saved numbers. "Let's see, Randy, Raeffelo, Rero..Retlin!" she quickly hit the speed dial button and waited. Three rings. Then a female voice said, "Hello?"
"Mary Anne? This is Stacey. What's going on?"