By Zoe Foster
If the satan wears Prada, then God wears los angeles Mer.
Hannah Atkins - the woman probably to be wearing unblended starting place, orange wrists or a wobbly path of liquid eyeliner - has bluffed her manner into the placement of good looks editor at Gloss journal. simply as she's carving a course into the glossy global of guerrilla air kisses, achingly hip PR campaigns and goodie-bag overload, she reads approximately her boyfriend and one other woman within the gossip pages of the neighborhood rag. Then she will get dumped. via text.
Vowing to claw again a few dignity and make her ex remorse what he's performed, Hannah adopts a manifesto of hardcore ideas. Don't turn into most sensible associates with the feared women at paintings. Don't drink fourteen glasses of Moët & Chandon at PR launches. Don't cross domestic with irrelevant males. and definitely don't get all besotted along with your most sensible friend's brother.
As her principles begin to slip away, Hannah unearths herself having to choose extra vital issues than simply the suitable colour of lip gloss . . .
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Additional resources for Air Kisses
I haven’t really gotten to that. You can use the one I have on file. ” Kay went to a bin under a table and pulled out a stack of envelopes varying in size and thickness and bound with fat rubber bands. “Your mail,” she said. ” She said the last two words in a whisper. At that moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if I sounded as moronic to those friends or acquaintances that had lost a loved one as Kay did to me. Perhaps this could be a new academic article for me to research and write: the kairos of death.
He’s coming soon. I know it. He’ll walk through that door any minute, bottle of sparkling cider in hand. It was all a mishap, he’ll say. And he’ll tell me a spectacular story, grossly exaggerated, voices and all, about how one little innocent trip to the store somehow wound him up in Cuba. I shuddered and folded my arms to grip my shoulders in a self-sustaining hug, wearing Sam’s hooded EdmundCollege sweatshirt over the cocktail dress; it’s the one I always stole from him. Chapter Two IT WAS THE FIRST COLUMBUS DAY WEEKEND THAT we’d not gone away.
Every freakin’ day of my life. So stop right there. And you don’t know anything. You just don’t know and you’ve no right to tell me how to teach my class or what to say to my students. ” “You won’t be a professional for long if you keep this shit up. People don’t forget around here. You’re one of the bright lights here. One of the shining stars. ” “Too late,” I said, feeling tears coming to my eyes. I paused for a beat. ” I touched the droplets on the can with my finger, tracing them, pulling them in the direction I wanted them to go, ignoring the two tears that slid down my face.
Air Kisses by Zoe Foster