50 Shades of Pink

  50 Shades of Pink© 2015 KT Grant

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For more information contact:

  Riverdale Avenue Books

  5676 Riverdale Avenue

  Riverdale, NY 10471.

  www.riverdaleavebooks.com

  Design by www.formatting4U.com

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  Digital ISBN 9781626011588

  Print ISBN 9781626011595

  First Edition February 2015

  “I knew that I couldn’t lie beside her, without wanting to touch her. I couldn’t have felt her breath come upon my mouth, without wanting to kiss her. And I couldn’t have kissed her, without wanting to save her.”

  From Fingersmith by Sarah Waters

  Chapter One

  I hated running late, especially today of all days. This Friday wasn’t like any other Friday for me. It was the start of something new and exciting — the opportunity of a lifetime. After two years of interning, and three years of slaving away in the research department where I was underpaid and overworked, I had a good chance of getting an assistant position to one of the most brilliant women in magazine publishing. But only if I could get my act together.

  Nothing was going right for me this morning. The outfit I had picked out the night before — a polka-dot blouse and light pink cardigan with a grey pencil skirt — didn’t look professional enough and was too lackluster. My hair, which was usually easy to manage, was too flat and limp. I’d have to pull it back in a French braid or keep it in place with a headband. For once, I wanted to be stylish and trendy, just like the chic and sharp-looking Colette Duarte, Executive Editor of Virago Magazine.

  “Hurry up, Lindsay, I have a photo shoot in thirty minutes,” my best friend and roommate Jayden called from outside my bedroom, probably pacing back and forth and tugging on his dreadlocks with impatience.

  I swept a brush through my shoulder length hair one last time and settled for a simple black headband. One last glimpse at my reflection in my dresser mirror showed the same old me. Nothing amazing or fabulous there. I’d come to terms with my average looking face and common brown eyes. But at least I had a great complexion that always gave me rosy cheeks. Coupled with a warm smile, I received my fair share of compliments. If only the same could be said for the rest of my uninspiring body.

  Grabbing my messenger bag, I hurried out to the small living room where Jayden waited.

  I knew my friend all too well. He twined one of his thick dreads around a finger while scanning through messages on his cell. He glanced up at me and his dark eyebrows came together. “For once, can’t you wear a skirt above the knee? And what about the red blazer I told you to splurge on? You have an unhealthy cardigan addiction.”

  “They didn’t have my size.” I had broad shoulders, so I fit best in extra-large coats or jackets, but I liked the smaller size cardigans, which he couldn’t stand. No matter how much I exercised or how healthy I ate, I couldn’t get below a size ten.

  “Excuses.” He snorted and opened the front door. “Maxine lent me her car so we don’t have to take the subway.”

  “Your sister is awesome.” I did a little combination jig and twerk out into the hall. Jayden chuckled and followed me out.

  “You can thank her next week when we to celebrate your quarter life crisis.” He swung his arm over my shoulder as we waited for the elevator to arrive.

  Turning twenty-five didn’t seem a big deal to me. I guess for some it was a right of passage. Jayden had the biggest birthday party imaginable for his twenty-fifth a few months ago, hosted by his older sister Maxine, who owned Hutson’s, a popular bar in Greenwich Village.

  “Maxine might take my thank you the wrong way. She keeps asking me to go out to dinner.” I stepped inside the elevator and pressed the button to the lobby.

  Jayden rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you give her a chance? She’s a great woman, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my sister. She’s made the family bar into one of the hottest spots in Manhattan. She thinks you’re cute and wants to date you...”

  I held up my hand. “We’ve been over this before. I like your sister as a friend. I’m not attracted to her.”

  “Is it because she’s black?”

  Sighing, I dropped my chin to my chest, holding back from swatting him. I’d made a big mistake one night after having one too many beers and admitted I preferred lighter-skinned women. He never let me forget it, accusing me of not trying things outside my comfort zone, which meant dating different types of people like he did. Jayden was an equal opportunity lover of all genders and races. He dated all the time. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had a date.

  “It’s not because she’s black. She’s too bossy and assertive,” I said, wishing he’d drop this line of questioning. I had to be in the right frame of mind for when I met Miss Duarte in less than an hour.

  “Just admit you’re afraid.” He held open the door for us to exit. Maxine’s silver sporty coupe was parked across the street.

  I gritted my teeth to stop from snapping at him. I loved my best friend to pieces but he had a bad habit of forcing an issue until I told him to shut up, or I ended up doing what he wanted.

  “It’s too early to fight with you.” I got in the passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt. “You always say I’m afraid just to piss me off.”

  He started the car and shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “No wanting to date Maxine has nothing to do with me being afraid. If I was such a scaredy cat, I wouldn’t have moved all the way from Seattle to go to college in Manhattan and intern at one of the top women’s magazines in the county.” I sent him a smirk. “If I’m so afraid, then I wouldn’t have applied to be Colette Duarte’s assistant, knowing she could chew me into pieces and spit me out, and ruin my career in publishing, just because she can.”

  “You’re being dramatic.”

  “Dramatic?” I crossed one leg over the other, purposely lifting the hem of my skirt over my knee to show I was comfortable enough flashing some skin. “Dramatic is making an appointment for breast implants.”

  “What?” He slammed on the break to stop at a red light. His eyes widened as he stared at my chest. “Please tell me you didn’t book an appointment for a boob job.”

  It took a lot for Jayden to get flustered. His dark skin didn’t hide the flags of red coloring his forehead and cheeks. I hardly ever taunted him like this, but he had goaded me too much. It was payback.

  “I called for a consultation.” I rubbed his stiff arm. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “No big deal, she says,” muttering, he drove in the parking garage next to the building that housed the Virago offices, as well as all the other publications under the Duarte umbrella.

  “Maybe bigger boobs will give me the confidence I need to step outside my comfort zone,” I said in a mocking tone.

  He parked in a vacant spot reserved for staff photographers and shut off the ignition. He then snagged the hem of my skirt and lowered it over my knees. “You’re fine the way you are. You don’t have to change any part of your body to give you confidence. Perhaps a personal shopper to help you with your wardrobe.”

  “Hey!” I flicked aside his hand. “To make you happy, I’ll see if Maxine wants to grab coffee or something, as friends. I don’t want to get her hopes up.”

  “Friendship can turn into something more.” He kissed my cheek. “I want you to be with someone who can appreciate you for you, and those boring headbands you love wearing.”

  “You’re on a roll this morning,” I
got out of the car and checked the time on my cell. Ten minutes to get to my desk and wait until Miss Duarte summoned me to her office.

  “It’s because I care.” Jayden escorted me into the building.

  From the first moment I met Jayden seven years ago as a nervous eighteen-year-old far away from my family, and confused about my budding sexual attraction toward women, he had been honest, and brutally so. He had proven how dedicated he was to our friendship many times over.

  Perhaps one day I would find someone special, who I shared all my fears and desires with. But for now, I’d settle for Jayden’s friendship and the select group of people in my life who wanted the best for me.

  I had a good feeling turning twenty-five, and the possibility of a new, exciting job would test my limits. But I also hoped it would eliminate some of the trepidation that kept me from embracing life like I should.

  ***

  The phone on my desk rang twenty minutes after I booted up my computer. As I reached for the phone receiver, I knocked over a pencil holder, causing a wave of pens and paperclips to clutter my desktop and the floor. Not bothering to pick up the mess, I answered the phone, sounding too winded for my ears.

  “Hello, Lindsay Pinke?” the woman on the line asked.

  “This is she,” I said, proud I remembered proper etiquette even though I was nervous.

  “This is Gail, Miss Duarte’s secretary. She wants to see you in her office now.”

  “I’ll be right up,” I said, hanging up the phone.

  This is the moment I’ve been waiting for! I hurried across the room to catch an elevator to the top floor. I passed my supervisor’s office and gave her a thumbs up. She in turn did the same. The first time I approached Tina about the personal assistant position for Miss Duarte, she had offered me great advice, including her concerns on whether I was ready for the demanding job.

  I always worked long hours and volunteered off the clock, helping with research for articles alongside other writers and editors in order to get noticed. I had always wanted to be a writer or reporter for a mainstream media publication, whether it was a magazine or newspaper. Working at Virago had been a dream of mine since I had moved to Manhattan. It was one of the top magazines in the country written by women, and for women. The feminist vibe was strong here. Miss Duarte was responsible for that, as well as the incredible success of the magazine.

  She was my idol, and I guess I had a small crush on her. She was polished and refined, with a grace I imagined possessing one day. She was connected to some high profile people. Plus at forty-four, she was in her prime. Her status as a single woman was well known, but not discussed. I didn’t know if she preferred men or women because her personal life, especially her love life, was off limits. But I was thrilled by the opportunity to be taken under her wing. She would teach me so much. I would fly high under her tutelage.

  The top floor of Virago was a sacred place, but one I had the honor of visiting a few times in my five years there. I had never been to Miss Duarte’s office before, even when I interviewed for the personal assistant position. Two weeks ago I had met with the head of Human Resources and Miss Duarte in a conference room for an hour-long interview. I’d been nervous as anything, but Miss Duarte had taken pity on me. Most of the questions she asked about my experience were ones I answered with conviction. I guess it worked because I didn’t think she would invite me in her inner sanctum just to tell me she wasn’t offering me the job.

  The elevators opened to a hallway with dark gray carpeting and crème colored walls. The executive floor even smelled nicer and crisper. It was also too quiet, which should have been eerie but didn’t freak me out. I was too high on energy to care.

  I walked past the conference room where my interview had taken place. Turning another corner, I found another large room. An older woman typing on a computer sat at a desk near a window with a great view of the city. When I entered, she looked up and smiled.

  “You must be Lindsay. I’m Gail, Miss Duarte’s secretary.”

  I shook her hand. “It-It’s nice to meet you. I hope it’s a good sign Miss Duarte asked to see me.”

  “I couldn’t say.” Gail’s smile changed to a small smirk but the kindness in her eyes remained. Staring at the computer monitor, she typed on the keyboard. “Miss Duarte prefers instant messaging rather than me calling her because she’s always on the phone.” She waited for a beat and then nodded. “You can knock and then go in.”

  “Great.” I flexed my fingers to erase the tingling there. “An-any advice to give me?”

  Gail arched an eyebrow. “Always smile even if you don’t know the answer and try not to stutter.”

  When my stomach flipped, my face warmed in embarrassment. Gail was kind enough not to comment or react. Noticing my stuttering had done enough damage to my fragile psyche already.

  I nodded in thanks, not trusting to speak. As much as I wanted to make a great impression on Miss Duarte, I wanted to do the same with Gail.

  I knocked on the cherry wood door. After a few seconds and silence, I knocked harder. She responded with a muffled, “come in”.

  Holding my breath, I turned the doorknob and entered the office. It was twice the size of the conference room with tall windows facing the skyline of the city and overlooking Central Park. There was a wet bar with bottles behind a glass case and a state of the art coffee machine stood in the middle, with a coffee mug stained with bright red lipstick. The scent of coffee and something like vanilla tickled my nose. My mouth watered for caffeine since I hadn’t had any this morning.

  Miss Duarte talked into her headset. I stepped forward on the plush carpet, watching as she leaned back against her desk and crossed her ankles. Her short skirt showcased a pair of incredible long legs, highlighted by the pumps she wore. Her dress blouse was unbuttoned at the top, showing just enough cleavage that made me want to stare at her breasts for more than the split second I allowed myself. She had bow-shaped lips doctored by rich red lipstick. I licked my own lightly pink-colored lips. I’d never be able to pull off such a color without lipstick smudged on my front teeth. But she didn’t have that problem. She also had the smoky eye look down pat, in part because of her long dark eyelashes and perfectly shaped eyebrows. Her high forehead and long pointed chin should have taken away from her beauty, but it enhanced her face incredibly well. Her skin tone was a shade darker then my own, which was framed by cascade of long wavy hair, highlighted with many different shades of bronze and blonde. Miss Duarte always wore her hair down past her shoulders. She had hair I would die for.

  Flipping her hair over a shoulder, I bit down on my lip to muffle a groan.

  “I’ll be there tonight with a guest.” She tapped her fingers on her hip, annoyance emerging on her face. “What? You want me to promise?’ Her mouth flattened into a straight line. “Fine, I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. Happy, Ben? Yes…yes. Goodbye.”

  She tossed her headset on the desk. She had yet to acknowledge my appearance. I tried not to fidget or shift back and forth like I sometimes did when I became nervous.

  I was hella nervous.

  Rolling her head across her shoulders, she released a loud sigh before looking at me. Stepping toward me with a small smile, she raised her hand. “Hello, Lindsay, I would have been with you sooner, but I had to make a sudden business call.”

  It didn’t sound like business to me, but then again, why would I question the woman who could change my entire professional future in the next few minutes?

  I met her gaze straight on and shook her hand. “It’s great to see you again. How was your vacation?”

  She took my hand, pumping it. She then guided me over to the couch near the far wall, across from the window. “Very relaxing.” She didn’t offer any other information.

  “Relaxing is always a good thing when on vacation, Ma’am, I mean, M-Miss.” My lack of motor skills wasn’t lost on Miss Duarte who squeezed my arm as she motioned for me to sit.

  “Using the title o
f ‘ma’am’ makes me feel older than I am. You can call me Colette.” She sat down next to me.

  “Sure thing!” I said with more peppiness than I wanted, which made me sound squeaky. My plan to impress was failing big time.

  Miss Duarte, or now Colette as she wanted me to call her, crossed her leg over the other with her hands folded on her knees. She had beautiful hands with long fingers, perfect French manicured nails unadorned with rings, and she wore a slim silver bangle bracelet with some type of engraving around her wrist. She tapped her thumbs together and cleared her voice.

  I averted my gaze, guilty I’d been caught staring at her hands. At least I wasn’t checking out her boobs or her upper legs encased in her tight skirt.

  “I have a busy day ahead, so the reason I asked you to come see me this early is to talk about your interest in being my personal assistant,” she said.

  “Yes?” I asked, dying to know if I had the job.

  “You’re far too tense.” She patted my arm. “Relax.”

  I took a deep inhale and then exhaled slowly. It didn’t help too much but I wanted to please Colette.

  “Good.” She nodded and hung her arm across the back of the couch behind me. “There’s no reason to be nervous. I have great things planned for you.”

  “You do?” I was breathless with anticipation.

  “Yes. You’re more than a suitable candidate as my assistant. I wanted the hiring process to go faster since my former assistant left me two months ago. But Human Resources has all these protocols they have to follow. I’ve been more than inconvenienced.” Outrage flashed in her eyes. “I hope you can fix this problem for me.”

  “When you mean fix, do you mean for me to accept the position?” I went right for the direct approach this time.

  She gave me a full-blown smile, showing her perfectly aligned white teeth. “Correct. But, I still have to meet other candidates. The interviews will take another few weeks.”