Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair—it just won't behave, and damn
Katherine Kavanagh for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for
my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission.
I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several
times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in
exasperation and gaze at the pale, brown-haired girl with blue eyes too big for her face staring
back at me, and give up. My only option is to restrain my wayward hair in a ponytail
and hope that I look semi-presentable.
Vintage Kate is my roommate, and she has chosen today
of all days to succumb to the flu. Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she'd arranged
to do, with some mega-industrialist tycoon I've never heard of, for the student newspaper.
So I have been volunteered. I have final exams to cram for and one essay to finish, and I'm
supposed to be working this afternoon, but no—today I have to drive 165 miles to downtown
Seattle in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc. As an exceptional
entrepreneur and major benefactor of our university, his time is extraordinarily precious—much
more precious than mine—but he has granted Kate an interview. A real coup, she tells
me. Damn her extracurricular activities. Kate is huddled on the couch in the living
room. "Ana, I'm sorry. It took me nine months to
get this interview. It will take another six to reschedule, and we'll both have graduated
by then. As the editor, I can't blow this off. Please," Kate begs me in her rasping,
sore throat voice. How does she do it? Even ill she looks gamine and gorgeous, strawberry
blond hair in place and green eyes bright, although now red rimmed and runny. I ignore
my pang of unwelcome sympathy. "Of course I'll go, Kate. You should get back
to bed. Would you like some NyQuil or Tylenol?" "NyQuil, please. Here are the questions and
my digital recorder. Just press record here. Make notes, I'll transcribe it all."
"I know nothing about him," I murmur, trying and failing to suppress my rising panic.
"The questions will see you through. Go. It's a long drive. I don't want you to be late."
"Okay, I'm going. Get back to bed. I made you some soup to heat up later." I stare at
her fondly. Only for you, Kate, would I do this.
time. Oh, the Merc is a fun drive, and the miles slip away as I hit the pedal to the
"Oh, please." I struggle out of the jacket. Advertise
in a square. They are exquisite—a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such
Announcement Ryan Seacrest Dream Date Charlie Hunnam Christian Grey Fifty Shades of Grey