A Bitch Named Karma. Stephanie Haefner

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СКАЧАТЬ I define chick lit as a story about a woman, facing many of the obstacles the everyday woman faces. Career problems, family problems and of course problems with love. The women in my stories are confident and smart and embody female empowerment. Sometimes they are knocked down, but it’s only temporary. They pick themselves up, dust off and rise above their problems, coming out new women in the end. They’re inspiring stories, giving women the courage to stand up to the wrong doings in their lives.”

      “And of course, look fabulous while doing it!” Tina chimed in.

      I laughed. “Yes, that too! Many of my characters are trendy and hip, wearing designer clothing and shoes.”

      “Yep, just like those cute Jimmy Choos I saw on your feet as you strolled in,” Tina added.

      “Hey, you can’t write it if you don’t live it!” I said, spouting off my life motto.

      “Now Lexi, what do you think of these critics who call chick lit ‘fluff’? They say it’s not serious writing,” Will commented.

      “My answer to that is not appropriate for the airwaves!”

      “O…kay!” Will then continued with the interview, taking a few calls.

      * * * *

      “Are you seriously making me go to dinner tonight with your friends?” Zak whined. “I can’t stand being around Marcus. And those women are just plain annoying.”

      I watched him flip through a rack of button-down shirts, then flop onto the bed in only his boxer briefs. Zak’s body rivaled even the buffest Greek god. His pecs were chiseled like a statue’s and he had an eight pack. A freakin’ eight pack! The two hours he spent at the gym each morning were certainly worth it.

      He let out an irritated moan.

      “Oh, stop! Marcus is my best friend. And what do you have against Brenda and Rachel?”

      “Uh, let’s see. One wears black lipstick, black nail polish and has black hair with red stripes.”

      “That was so two days ago. It’s all pink now.”

      “Regardless. Her piercings disgust me. And the other one has a voice that makes nails on a chalkboard sound like a symphony.”

      “Come on, they’re not that bad! I love those girls and Marcus. They’ve been my friends forever.”

      “I don’t have to like them or sit with them and try to keep my dinner down.”

      “You have to come tonight. We’re celebrating the radio interview.”

      I crawled on top of him wearing only a pair of red panties, and kissed a trail down his chest, stopping at the elastic of his briefs.

      “Zak, come on. This is important to me. I want all my favorite people together for one night.”

      He stared down at me as I popped Mr. George out and began caressing him with my tongue, kissing his head in preparation of devouring him completely.

      “Fine, I’ll go.” He pushed me off of him and sat up on the edge of the bed. “You’ll owe me big time for this. And it’s only dinner, right? No hanging around for dessert or drinks afterward.”

      “Oh, come on! You know how horny chocolate and martinis make me!” I pressed my body to him again, this time my tongue making circles on the back of his neck.

      He stood and I almost fell on the ground. He walked to the closet, thumbing through his shirts again. “No distractions. I want to get there as soon as possible, so we can get it over with and leave.”

      “Fine, but you don’t need to be an ass about it!”

      Zak could be a real jerk sometimes, though I guiltily admit it turned me on.

      “I want to be home and in bed early anyway. I have a meeting with Val tomorrow morning and at ten I have a massage appointment.”

      I walked over to my closet. The door opened and my clothes looked ready to burst out at me. One pull of the wrong hanger could lead to an eruption of silk and cashmere that would bury me alive. My mind began to wander, thinking I should call the interior designer Marcus used for his apartment. For my own safety, I needed a complete re-organization of my closet space.

      “What are you doing tomorrow? A massage?” Zak asked as I flipped through my wardrobe. “What kind?”

      “Should I wear this or this?” I asked holding up two entirely different wrap dresses.

      “They look the same to me. Just pick one. What about this massage now?”

      I continued flipping through my closet. “Oh, it’s one of those hot rock massages. They’re supposed to be completely relaxing. And I think my back’s a little out of whack, so I could really use it. Remember that yoga class I told you about? That evil Nazi-woman instructor who had us contorted all funny? I don’t think the human body is meant to bend quite that way. It wasn’t even a good sex pose!” I pulled out a royal blue tank dress with a plunging neckline. Loved the way it made my boobs look. “But anyway, I might have a facial and manicure while I’m there too.”

      “Sounds nice.”

      * * * *

      Zak seemed to do a one-eighty, laughing at my stories and even making a few jokes of his own. He made conversation with Marcus, a rarity. The two had never really gotten along. I’d read about men being jealous of their girlfriends’ male friends and even as cocky as Zak was, he surely felt envious of my friendship with Marcus.

      After savoring our favorite dishes between bursts of laughter, Marcus raised his glass.

      “To Lexi—may your success continue to flourish!”

      “Hear, hear!”

      As we drank, the waitress began clearing our plates. She brought the dessert menu and I looked to Zak. He seemed in no hurry to leave and nodded his approval. I ordered the triple chocolate mousse cake and a Godiva martini.

      Four martinis later I crawled into bed, exhausted and glad Zak didn’t ask for an ass massage, his not-so-subtle way of trying to get laid. I drifted off to sleep dreaming of my meeting with Val.

      She gushed about my manuscript and the fabulousness of each and every word. I saw myself sitting in her office, reaching and grabbing the hearts as they flew out of her mouth like a silly video game. Each heart I touched made a Ding! and my points skyrocketed.

      Still in my dream world, I left her office and proceeded to my favorite boutique, spying a hot ruby-colored frock sure to look fantastic on me. I saw the only size four in the hands of a wide-hipped woman with greasy black hair.

      “That won’t fit you,” I said matter-of-factly and snatched the dress, flashing my stellar smile.

      I slipped into the first dressing room I came to and admired my reflection. The clingy charmeuse fabric made my curves look even curvier and my skin seem brighter, not that I needed it much anyway. My hair looked shinier and even my breasts appeared plumper, like I’d already had the boob job I planned СКАЧАТЬ