She stares at me for a moment, not saying a word, and then blinks. "This is why I love having you around. You help centre me and calm me down when I'm freaking the fuck out." Her chest heaves as she blows out a long breath and I realise how stressed she really is.
"I'm glad I can do that for you, but please tell me who would ever be mean to you?" The Anastasia I have come to know is kind and giving. Sure, she despises tardiness and will lose her shit over it, but apart from that, I've never seen her treat anyone badly.
Her shoulders slump a little, and her smile gives way to a frown. "I'm not going to name names, but a lot of Aussie actresses who have failed to make it big overseas don't like me. I know the things they say and they're awful. Getting up in front of them tonight will be hard."
Now it's my turn to stare. "Seriously?"
Her brows pull together. "Seriously, what?"
I am stunned that someone as amazing as Anastasia even gives them the time of day. But here she is standing in front of me with fear written all over her. I want to smack it out of her. Actually, what I really want to do is tell her manager off for letting her down.
Stay professional, Juliette.
You need this job.
I reach into my handbag for my phone. Searching on the Internet, I find what I'm looking for before turning the phone to face her. "See that? That's why they are mean to you. They want one of those Academy Awards for themselves. And, that's,"—I point at the image of her holding the award on my phone—"why you are going to get up on that stage and show those women why it's you up there and not them." I drop the phone back in my handbag, grab my clothes bags, and say, "Now, let me work my magic on you so you can get up on that stage in style."
Her frown morphs into a huge smile. I half expect her to throw her arms around me again, but she doesn't. Instead, she speaks softly, surprising me with her words. "Thank you. I've been working in this industry for eight years now and I've never come across anyone as genuine as you are. You always listen to what I say, but then you process it and give it back to me through your eyes. You don't sugarcoat shit, but at the same time, you're kind. And you don't let me wallow in my self-pity. You may never know how much I appreciate all of that."
Her words hit me in my heart and warmth spreads through my body. I've worked hard to secure this job with her and it means a lot that she values my opinion and me. I'm not sure how to handle this, though. Although I know she's a hugger, hugging her is out of the question—I don't do hugs, especially not with the people I work for. After a few stiff moments, I finally reply, "Thank you for saying that." My voice is a little stilted and I just wish we could move this along to the part where I dress her and do my thing.
She bursts out laughing. "Oh, I do love you, Juliette! You are unlike anyone else I have ever met."
"I'll take that as a compliment," I say as I walk towards the bedroom, having decided we've done way more talking than was needed.
Still laughing, she follows me. "It was a compliment and you should take it as one, babe. And can I just say, those heels you're wearing are killer. I need you to get me a pair of those, please."
Finally.
Someone who can appreciate my heels.
Not like that guy downstairs.
"Red suits you, so I will definitely get a pair of these for you." Anastasia is your classic beautiful blonde bombshell with long hair, long legs, and curves and boobs all men—and probably most women—would die for. Red just accentuates her beauty. Hell, the woman can wear nearly every colour. Unlike myself, with my fair skin and long dark hair. I avoid yellow at all costs and have a list of other colours I don't touch.
"The day I saw your Instagram post was one of the luckiest days of my life. I've never had as many compliments on my style as I have in the last three months."
Thank goodness for Instagram.
Thank goodness for a lot of things actually—for Jeff who broke up with me; for the girl who snatched him away from me; for my landlord who failed to renew my lease, which led me to move from Dubbo to Sydney; for struggling to find a job, which forced me to figure out another way to put food on the table, and lastly, for a lifelong dream of working in fashion. They all led me to this moment in my life.
A moment I know is going to be a stepping-stone to a whole new life.
I can just feel it.
But first, the bitch manager needs dealing with.
Chapter Two
TANNER
I never thought I'd see the day when women throwing themselves at me made me want to run a mile, but that day is today.
"Tanner, wait!"
I keep striding towards the elevator, doing my best to block the woman's high-pitched shriek. Thankfully, the elevator doors are starting to close, so I'm able to quickly enter before they shut after me, blocking her access.
"Thank fuck," I mutter, resting my body against the back wall of the elevator.
"What? Tanner Brady can't fit a woman into his busy schedule… I thought your schedule was women."