"You Can't Stay a Saint in This City"

“How was your day?” Milan asks. I hooked up my Skype account to the giant TV in the living room. It felt like I was in one of those spy movies receiving a video call from my boss.

“Guess, what I got today,” I said holding up my tickets to the screen.

“Cool,” he said leaving the computer to go rummage around in his laundry basket.

“Sweetheart this isn’t like the phone where you can just leave me hanging and say “uh huh” every few seconds so I think you’re listening”

“Uh huh” he said. I rolled my eyes and decided to just wait until he found what he was looking for.

He took a black t-shirt out of the hamper and decided to switch t-shirt right then and there while we were on Skype “Are you stripping for me?” I asked as he was had the shirt he just pulled out of the hamper over his head.

He laughed “You’ll get to see this live on March 24, babe”

He finally got the shirt on and came back to the computer “Did you have fun at training camp today?” I asked him.

“No, you know how much I hate preparing for things.”

“Well everything looks good. Anyway, its late. I should let you go,” I say, having my first brush-in with the whole time zone thing.

“Wait!” he yells and my finger freezes on the power button.

“Yeah?”

“Have you opened the package I sent you”

“No,” I hadn’t even unpacked yet “do you want me to do it right now?”

“No but could you open it during our next Skype session? I want to see your face when you see what I got you.” He says giving me his best puppy dog face.

“Fine, night Milan” I say, blowing a kiss into the camera.

“Bye Amber,”
_______

I spent the morning examining the prototypes Saks sent over. There were about fifty pieces of furniture in my debut collection ranging from bedframes to chaise lounges. Depending on how well this line sold, I could venture into everything from wall paints to dishware, maybe even open up my first store front. Needless to say I was under a lot of pressure with this line. I’m basically alone with Jeff in the basement of my offices making notes on some of the most beautiful furniture I have ever seen. It’s kind of surreal.

“Hey Amber,” Greg says as he and Ivy bounce down the stairs.

“Hi,” I say a from under a espresso colored dining table.

“Oh the furniture is here.” Ivy says admiring the magenta bean bag chair.

“Looks good Amber, I’m slightly jealous” Greg says

“That’s okay Greg, I’m going to name chairs after all of my staff.” I reply scribbling into my notes.

“Cool,”

“So tell me about the contestants” I ask climbing out from underneath the table and straightening out the bright purple dress Forever 21 sent me. The media seemed to have noticed that I don’t exactly wear the most wallet friendly clothing and called me out for it in an article called “Meet the Anti-Frugal--the celebrities who refuse to compromise fashion even when we are in a recession” in last month’s Vanity Fair. I was mentioned with the likes of Victoria Beckham and Daphne Guinness. About two days ago I was on Good Day LA where I was supposed to defend myself but instead admitted that I only really frequent department stores where I could buy furniture for my job and the clothes I wore all at once. Now all these mall brands were sending clothes by the trunkful everything from H&M to Abercrombie and Fitch to VS Pink.

“I don’t know…” Greg says “I did sign a confidentiality agreement with Bravo.”

I roll my eyes and playfully toss a ball of bubble wrap at him “Come on, spill.”

“Did you just see that? Employee abuse right there, Jeff” Jeff is filming from a black leather studded wingback chair, I’ve already decided that I’m naming that the Ivy.

“Is that how it is you’re trying to get money out of me now that I’m earning a reality star’s salary?” I ask as I give the dining room table my stamp of approval.

“Obviously,” Greg says shaking his head at me.

“Well?” I ask Ivy whose checking her text messages while lounging in her bean bag chair.

“They were all losers. All of the straight men there were only there because they wanted to sleep with you. The women were sleazy and the gay men were looking to replace Greg.”
She says stretching her arms.

I frown “Well did we find anyone worth hiring?”

Greg nods “there were definitely some lookers there.”

Ivy groans “Greg made the men take off their shirts”

“Greg!” I scold

“For research purposed only.” Greg says defensively.

I look at Ivy, “And then he sent them away without giving them a call back, right?”

Ivy gives me a crooked smile “Yeah, but honestly we found maybe two/three people I could see working here.”

I sigh, “I guess that’s better than none.
______

It was time for dinner, everyone was working overtime to make up for the extra vacation time we took. There were about thirty people seated in the expanded dining room, we used to have one long table like the boardroom but during the renovations I assigned the interns their first real task, to redecorate the dining room. Now the dining room looked a little…commercial with all the room being filled with smaller tables of four. It wasn’t as much of a disaster as I thought it’d be in fact the interns were quite competent. I looked around the room; even with thirty people in the room it looked quite empty. Maybe it was just the lighting.

“I got food!” shouts Wilfred from below. He volunteered to go to the Pacific Design Center in West Hollywood to pick up our orders at Wolfgang Puck’s Red Seven and bring my prototypes to the display they were doing called “The First Glimpse of Ambrosia Li’s Furniture Line Available at Saks 10.17.11”. As well as hosting the annual Interior Design Awards, the Pacific Design Center was were all the best interior designers in Los Angeles could be found whether in the form of displays and photos or in person at the theatre and restaurants.

I grabbed my grilled cheese and sat down at the designer-table. It seemed like all the tables were segregated by cliques just like at Killarney. In addition to my table there was the camera crew-table and the non-designer-table. “You never told us what happened with your neighbour.” Said Jasmine sticking a fork into her roasted beet salad.

“What do you mean?” I ask unwrapping the hot tin foil from my sandwich and smelling the deliciousness waif through the air “I basically told you I met him and we didn’t exactly hit it off”

“No but what happened?” asks Greg who looks up from his phone, he’s probably texting that guy in New York.

“Um he came to my door, I opened it, and I didn’t know who he was when he thought that I clearly would.” I explain, dipping my grilled cheese into the tomato soup.

“So the two of you don’t get along?” asks Ivy, as she sits down she just returned from a set up in the Valley, Sherman Oaks or something.

“Well no, we’re just kind of indifferent about each other” I reply watching Ivy’s reaction. Despite Ivy’s candy apple red hair and all black wardrobe she was pretty easy to like. She and Jasmine were probably best friends with her neighbours and had weekly movie marathons with them.

“Well you better get on his good side” Gaby says from the next table over.

“Why?” I ask, I mean the Hendersons and I got along, sort of. They weren’t really home a lot. They were an elderly retired couple who would often take three month vacations to travel to various exotic locales around the world. But they used to always bring me back cute little trinkets from their trips like my set of vases from Morocco.

“He’s your neighbour. He going to know all this stuff about you like who was leaving your house at the odd hours of the morning” Greg says all knowingly.

“Oh, well I guess I could offer him some sort of ‘Welcome to the Neighbourhood’ present” I say before wondering what I have handy to give not that I have any dirty secrets or anything.