Southern Charm

Read Southern Charm for Free Online Page B

Book: Read Southern Charm for Free Online
Authors: Tinsley Mortimer
doll . . . Anyway, let’s get down to the nuts and bolts here. I’m assuming you can type?”
    â€œUm, yes?” I lied, placing my napkin back on my lap. “I type very well.”
    Ruth furrowed her brow. “Whaddayou call a dress where there’s a seam just below the bust?”
    â€œAhm-peer,” I said, pronouncing “empire” correctly.
    Ruth grinned. “Nice. Well done.” She paused once more andthought. “Okay, last one. What was the name of Vivienne Westwood’s store on King’s Road?”
    Emily looked at me, bewildered.
    I knew the answer to this one! I’d studied Vivienne Westwood in a fashion history course.
    â€œUm . . .” I paused bashfully and whispered, “Sex.”
    â€œExcuse me?” Ruth turned her ear toward me.
    â€œSex,” I repeated, slightly louder.
    â€œWhat was that?” Ruth leaned closer still. She was starting to laugh, thoroughly amused by my inability to say the word “sex” at a normal decibel level.
    â€œSex!” I blurted.
    This time the entire restaurant heard. Two brunching ladies toward the front turned in my direction and lowered their large sunglasses in order to get a better look at the girl who cried sex.
    But the humiliation was worth it, because Ruth leaned toward me and said five fateful words.
    â€œWhen can you start, honey?”
    Emily and I released all the air in our lungs, filling the entire room with relief. Even the waiters, who were watching our table like we were the cast of a bad reality TV show, looked relieved. I wondered if they were going to start clapping or pouring glasses of champagne.
    I placed my hand on my chest, feeling it flush with excitement.
    I began, “Ms. Vine—”
    â€œCall me Ruth for Christ’s sake.”
    â€œRuth,” I corrected myself. “I’m thrilled to have the opportunity to work for you.” I had to catch myself from leaning over to hug her. “Thank you so much!”
    Ruth smiled, wrapped her fingers around her wineglass, and raised it in a toast.
    â€œTo Minty,” Ruth said.
    I blushed as we each held up our glasses and clinked them together one by one.

Be Cute and Quick
    T ripp did write me back. But it took him an entire week, and an entire week in southern belle time is a lifetime.
    The message itself was interesting. And by “interesting,” I mean ridiculous and terrible and lazy. It may have been one of the worst messages—including greeting cards and e-mails and text messages—I have ever actually received. I had waited a week to read the words: “Oh, hey.”
    No more, no less.
    I was so boggled by the nothingness of Tripp’s message that I instantly began to rationalize. There were so many possibilities: A fire drill! Short-term memory loss! Carpal tunnel syndrome! Or maybe he was just an idiot. There was also that possibility.
    Luckily, I was a busy girl. I was right in the middle of my first week as Ruth Vine’s assistant. I was so busy that I barely had time to breathe, let alone worry about Tripp and his terrible messaging skills.
    â€œMintyyyyyy!”
    After just three days of working for Ruth, I had already learned to tune out the sound of Ruth’s voice screaming my name through the loftlike space of the RVPR offices. Lucky for me, the office intern,Spencer Goldin, sat next to my cubicle and seemed to have my best interests at heart.
    â€œMinty,” he hissed, elbowing me in the side. “Minty!”
    I jumped. I had been staring at my computer screen, nearly blinded by the Excel worksheet in front of me. It was filled with what seemed like a thousand yeses and nos and maybes and plus-ones and little notes in the last column marked by an asterisk that said things like, “May be filming in Vancouver but if in town will attend” and “Will only attend if hair, makeup, driver and stylist are provided.” I was already in charge of my very

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