Designer Bags And Bagels

By Marjorie Travers

Victoria Martin had everything she thought she wanted -- a promising career with a big New York marketing firm, a steady boyfriend, and a smoking hot boss. Unfortunately, she also had an addiction for everything-bagels, designer clothes and shopping on credit. Life in New York City can be challenging, especially when you’re living on the charity of your best friend and your boyfriend has perpetual halitosis.

This laugh-out loud journey of a young woman learning to accept herself for who she is and carving out a place in a world of plastic sameness will resonate with readers, who also feel like they don’t always fit the “mold”.

Victoria is the heroine we all need.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marjorie Travers
• Release date: Apr 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386445234

Book preview

BOOK DESCRIPTION

Victoria Martin had everything she thought she wanted—a promising career with a big New York marketing firm, a steady boyfriend, and a smoking hot boss. Unfortunately, she also had an addiction for everything-bagels, designer clothes and shopping on credit. Life in New York City can be challenging, especially when you’re living on the charity of your best friend and your boyfriend has perpetual halitosis.

This laugh-out loud journey of a young woman learning to accept herself for who she is and carving out a place in a world of plastic sameness will resonate with readers, who also feel like they don’t always fit the mold.

Victoria is the heroine we all need.

Table of Contents

BOOK DESCRIPTION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER ONE

I was running late. Again.

I charged out of the R train on the northeast corner of 57th and 7th Avenue, clutching my stacks of papers in my arms. Somehow, they felt safer there than in my Louis Vuitton monogrammed Never full tote bag, which was silly, because that was by far my most prized possession. I had to eat Ramen for like two months to be able to buy it, but hey, it was totally worth it – so practical. But that didn't mean I was letting go of these papers. I think I felt that if I could keep my arms wrapped around them tightly enough, I could control my destiny. After all, this was the meeting that could change everything.

As I stopped on the corner to pull out my cell phone to check and see exactly what time it was, I tried to ignore my rumbling stomach. I had ditched my usual whole-wheat everything bagel and cream cheese for egg whites and kale because I was really trying to cut back on my carbs. Apparently, carbs are out this season. Nobody mentioned that I would be absolutely starving 30 minutes post-consumption.

I finally found my cell phone at the bottom of my messy Never full. I had wasted precious seconds just checking the time, which was probably why my boyfriend Ken kept telling me I should get a watch. But really, how was I supposed to afford a watch when there were so many great shoes and purses to buy? I mean, if he wanted me to have a watch so badly, he should just buy me one himself. Unfortunately, as sweet as he was, he happened to be the worst gift-giver in the history of the world. Last year for Christmas he gave me a vintage comic book, despite the fact that I had literally never read a comic book in my life. Apparently, he thought that since I liked vintage dresses, I would like vintage anything. Men could be so clueless, but hey, it's the thought that counts, right?

It was 8:59 AM. I had one minute to spare.

Somehow in three years of working for Swann Communications I had only been to the corporate headquarters once, during my first week to do paperwork for Human Resources. Most of my work was done in a subdivision of Swann, a boutique marketing firm called Blue Birds.

So being in midtown during morning rush-hour was a new experience for me. But it was worth it.

Today was a big day.

Last night my big break presented itself in the middle of a Glee episode. I mean, it didn't actually have anything to do with the episode itself, but I was in the middle of watching the season finale on DVR with my roommate and best friend Poppy when I got a phone call. It was fairly blasphemous that anyone would call me during our sacred Glee time. Though we both mocked it to no end, Poppy and I were hopelessly addicted to the show, and no matter how busy our schedules were we always made sure to watch it together on Monday nights, as we wore our pajamas and devoured ice cream. It was a ritual.

I figured the call was just Ken bugging me about one thing or another, probably drunk dialing me since he was out watching the hockey game with his friends at the bar. He always got very romantic after he'd had a few beers. (Or so he thought.)

But the call was actually from my boss, Lucinda Malloy.

Though I was tempted to avoid it and just pretend I didn't get the call, I decided to force Poppy to pause Lea Michelle's solo and see what she was calling about. It was a good thing I did.

It turns out this was the opportunity I had been waiting for.

We had been working over-time getting our (her) marketing proposal ready for our upcoming pitch to win a huge account with a new client, Sun Burst. They made this fabulous fruit juice that Lucinda refused to even drink because of the sugar content, but I absolutely loved it. 

Apparently, Brandon Swann, the CEO of Swann Communications, was in town and wanted to check our work since it was such a big client. So, I had to get him four copies of our draft on his desk at 9AM. (Most normal people would e-mail and get his secretary to do it, but we both agreed it was best if we handled it ourselves since it was just a big deal. Or rather, we both agreed that I should handle it. If Lucinda did it she might have to miss a SoulCycle class.

Sure, it was annoying that I had to stop watching Glee and go to Kinkos because Poppy's printer was out of ink, but it was worth it. I was finally going to get a chance to impress the big boss.

I had been practicing for this moment for about two and a half years. I was so ready for this.

But today was my chance. I had an entire campaign planned out for Sun Burst – one that was way better than what Lucinda came up with – and I was going to tell Brandon Swann all about it. And he was going to listen.

I had dreamed for years of being a Marketing Executive. It was the next step and I was more than ready for it.

I was not going to be an assistant anymore.

***

I decided to cut through 56th Street to get to 6th Avenue because that seemed to be the street that was the least crowded, not that you could really tell the difference at 9:00 AM in midtown. Everything was a complete mob, a sea of people all on the same mission, but somehow all going in completely different directions. I was so nervous about someone knocking the papers out of my death-grip that I decided I would take every precaution possible. It was the responsible thing to do.

The decision may or may not have also had something to do with the Starbucks I saw on the corner, calling my name. It wasn't that I necessarily wanted a coffee – I actually wasn't that big of a coffee drinker, much to Poppy's horror – but I always saw the businessmen and corporate types carrying their hot coffees around in the morning, and I really wanted to look the part. After all, that was 90 percent of the battle. Plus, I figured if it turned out that Mr. Swann was already at his desk and settled when I got there, I could always say something like, "Sorry I'm late, the Starbucks barista must have been new today. Isn't that just the worst? You'd think they would do training at some time other than rush hour. But I just can't get along without my morning cup of joe!"

Mr. Swann would totally sympathize. It would be a bonding moment.

I knew that grabbing the coffee would definitely make me late, but if Lucinda had wanted me there at 9:00 on the dot she would have told me 8:45. She knew me well enough for that. Look, I was a great assistant but I wasn't like, perfect, or anything.

The line at Starbucks was actually not too long, which was somewhat of a New York rush-hour miracle. Standing in line to get coffee in the morning with all of the other midtown commuters and executives made me feel very New York. Even though I had been in the city for six years and often found myself more jaded than I'd like to be, I still got chills at these completely random moments.

I can still remember my very first New York Chill. It was the first day I was here. I had dragged Poppy to Saks Fifth Avenue – just to look of course. But, in a miracle of all miracles, the day we went there they were having a sale, and a pair of bright blue suede Christian Louboutin shoes were, quite literally, calling my name. They cost $500, even on sale, which was more money than I'd ever spent on anything in my whole life, but at that moment I knew I would do absolutely anything to be in those shoes. To this day, they were my favorite pair.

Of course, I was sure that the brand new Christian Louboutins would put them to shame. The Pigalle 120 Spiked Patent Leather pumps. In burgundy. The ultimate pump. They would go with everything, which was the one area that my blue suede pumps fell short. Okay, so these were $1395, a long-term investment, but a very practical one because they would last forever, I mean, if I ever had little girls, they could wear...

Miss. Miss. MISS.

I was nudged from behind, a rude awakening from my shoe fantasy land.

Starbucks. Right.

Miss, can I get you anything?

I looked up at a clearly unamused barista, who was glaring at me from behind her thick glasses and unkempt hair.

I'm sorry just one second.

Miss, there is a line behind you.

I'm going to be late for my meeting, a voice from behind me groaned under his breath but certainly loud enough for me to hear.

I needed to focus.

I had every intention of getting a plain hot coffee, you know, the real stuff, but when I got to the front of the line I remembered that I hated coffee and there was really no sense in paying $2.00 for something I wouldn't even drink. So, I ordered my usual – a Mocha Frapuccino light. Since I was thinking quickly on my feet, I got them to give it to me in a hot cup so nobody else would know. That way I could still look the part.

My stomach rumbled and I almost gave in and got a LouBoulange Chocolate Croissant to go, but I was afraid I'd spill crumbs on my dress. Oh, and I wasn't eating carbs. Right.

As I pranced out of the Starbucks, perfectly caffeinated and happy, I paused for a moment outside of the Federation Office Tower on the corner of 56th and 6th Avenue, where corporate was located.

This was it.

I looked over the papers and counted everything: four pristine copies of Lucinda's Sun Burst pitch, and a perfectly presented – colors and fonts included – portfolio of my better ideas for the campaign.

I checked myself out in the reflective walls on the outside of the building. I wanted to make sure the crowded subway hadn't ruined my carefully-calculated appearance.

I was wearing a DVF green and white limited edition new Jeanne TwoSilk Jersey dress that clung perfectly to my curves, while still hiding that ten pounds I could never seem to lose no matter how often I tried. I had bought the dress in a moment of impulse over the weekend during a trip to Saks, but had kept the tags on it, knowing that I would have to return it.

I should also probably return my shoes, but I knew I wouldn't. They were LK Bennett nude Court Shoes and I saw Kate Middleton wearing the exact same pair in the latest version of US Weekly. I mean, if they are good enough for my dream husband Prince William's wife, they were certainly good enough for me. An investment in your feet is an investment in your future.

I was even having a good hair day. I had kept it curly, and the humidity was causing it to frizz just the perfect amount so that the volume balanced out my hips. Poppy didn't believe my balancing out theory, and actually preferred me with my hair up – something I only did when lounging around with her. Poppy would just never understand because she'd never have hips to worry about. I tousled my hair a bit, re-applied my lip gloss, and gave myself a cheesy smile.

I looked fabulous.

***

As I swarmed into the giant office building that housed Swann Communications Headquarters and flashed my I.D. Badge to the security guard – something that also always made me feel more important than I really was – I examined the people around me to try to figure out if any of them were Brandon Swann. Somehow, despite three years at the company, I had never met this mysterious but powerful CEO who had built the company from the ground up. I knew he went to Harvard. I knew he was a self-made man. And I knew that he wasn't very friendly. Okay, so I didn't really know that last part since I had never met him, but the company-wide emails he sent around on occasion were always terribly formal and cold. This was a marketing company – we were supposed to be friendly and engaging. Would an exclamation point or a friendly emoticon really kill him?

I figured I'd recognize him because I had the perfect image of him in my head. Short. Slightly overweight. Balding a bit. I figured he probably wasn't that good looking, because who sought out that much power if they weren't overcompensating for something?

My phone buzzed and I realized it was a text from Ken wishing me good luck. In the long list of positives about Ken, his consideration was right at the top of the list. He might not understand a lot of things about me – my shopping addiction, my need for veg-out time with Poppy, or my inability to keep a savings account, but he did support me no matter what. It helped that he worked at Swann too, and if I could manage to get a promotion, there would be the possibility of spending even more time together than we already did. He was a big fan of together time.

He and Poppy had both stayed up with me half the night as I prepped and practiced my speech to Mr. Swann. I was super lucky to have such supportive people in my life.

The lobby of this office building was a sterile cave of impersonal marble, clacking heels, and anxiety. Very different from the cozy three-story building where the Blue Birds office was in Madison Square Park. Everything about the atmosphere made me feel like a fraud, and suddenly the confidence that I was feeling just minutes ago went flying out the window.

I wished that I had dressed in a power suit instead of my dress, and that I had straightened my hair instead of letting it wave, that I had brought a Bluetooth so I could pretend to be having super important conversations on it. Ohmygod, did I even remember my pitch anymore? I couldn't even go through my papers to make sure that they were all there – for the twentieth time –  because I had a stupid coffee in my hand. Why had I thought the coffee was a good idea?

I was lost, and the giant digital clock in the foyer reminded me how late I was running. I saw the elevator for floors 30-60 starting to close, and I made a mad dash, which wasn't an easy feat in those shoes. Luckily the guy who was in the elevator saw me headed that way and held the door open for me.

It all seemed to happen in slow-motion as I ran onto the elevator. The guy holding my spot was stunningly handsome, almost like an actor. Or maybe a model turned actor, you know, one of those guys that didn't want to just be a pretty face even though that's totally what he was. In fact, since I always pictured people in my head as actors or models, he was exactly the type of person who I had envisioned flooding this pristine office building.

Yup, my chills were definitely back.

He was about 6'2" with a medium build, tan, with light brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and a perfectly-proportioned nose. For some reason, I always noticed noses first. He was one of those people that made me nervous just being near them because they were so stunning.

But this morning my nerves were focused elsewhere, there was no time for ogling. I was here on business.

I got in, pressed 42, and propped myself against the bar in the corner of the elevator to catch my breath.

My heart started beating faster and faster as the numbers went farther and farther up. The pressure started to build in my ears and in my gut.

The elevator was skyrocketing up quickly. That is, until it wasn't.

CHAPTER TWO

In one second, everything was ruined.

The elevator jerked to a stop suddenly, causing me to propel forward, drop the papers everywhere, and spill my venti mocha frappuccino all over the front of my dress.

As the cold, cold drink seeped into the far corners of my bra, tears begin to well up in my eyes, and all I could think about was how I was never going to be able to return the dress now. Plus, Mr. Swann would never take me seriously looking like this, I would never get my promotion and I would probably be carried off to debtor's prison, or whatever the modern-day equivalent was.

Suddenly I remembered the papers and began to panic even more. If I had spilled mocha frappucinno over them, Lucinda would kill me. Forget about a promotion, I'd be fired.

Here you go, a sturdy voice said, momentarily snapping me out of my spiral of self-pity. I had completely forgotten that someone else was in the elevator with me.

Oh right. The breathtakingly handsome stranger. Of course, he'd seen this happen.

Are you okay? he asked. His voice was deep, but comforting. Very striking.

I tried to gather myself as he picked up the miraculously dry papers and handed them to me.

I locked eyes with him for just a moment, his piercing blue eyes causing me to go momentarily weak.

Seriously, it was like he was coming towards me in slow-motion, whipping his perfectly-placed hair in the non-existent wind, smiling like he belonged in an Axe commercial, muscles bulging through his perfectly tailored suit.

It was really like he was mocking me with his togetherness and attractiveness.