Page 3 of These Thin Lines

“This is Aoife Sullivan, head of production. She’s in charge, so be afraid.” After an awkward beat, all three women laughed. Aoife had no misgivings about pumping Vi’s hand several times, the shake strong and warm. Vi unclenched her jaw.

“Yeah, not so much. But you’re gonna be with me, kiddo. So stick close.” The Irish accent was strong, musical to Vi’s ear.

“Regardless of what she says, Ms. Courtenay, I’d listen. Though perhaps, only believe half of her stories.” As she spoke, Chiara’s wide, amber eyes looked at her with so much playfulness, Vi swallowed nervously and wanted to tug on her non-existent tie. Was it really this hot in the foyer?

“And I’m Chiara Conti-Lilienfeld. But you already know that. It’s a…” She seemed to be searching for a word, but when she finally spoke, Vi had gotten her confirmation that, not only was the space hot, it was also small and devoid of oxygen. “…Pleasure to meet you.”

Mercy, oh mercy.

“Who’s playing dirty now? Stop messing with my intern’s head and take your amazing ass to the studio, love. I will see you at lunch.” Before she knew it, Aoife grabbed Vi’s forearm with little ceremony and dragged her towards the massive awning at the end of the hallway. Vi glimpsed Renate shaking her head at their antics as Chiara’s laughter followed them all the way to the door.

* * *

As they madetheir way through a series of doors, Vi barely kept up with Aoife.

“Um—”

“Not now, Cinderella. Let me show you around first, and then you can bombard me with all the questions you undoubtedly have.”

“I assume the Cinderella bit will not be going away any time soon?”

Aoife spared her a sideways glance.

“You make that kind of entrance, you get a nickname, and there are only so many times I can call you ‘kiddo’ before I start to feel old, kiddo.”

Finally, Aoife dragged her up two flights of stairs into what looked like a gallery that occupied the entire floor. She pushed Vi inside and turned in a circle.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” She twirled once more, and Vi smiled.

“Not much humble about it—”

“Ha, mouthy. I like you.” Aoife gave her a slap on the shoulder and Vi almost lost her footing. “Puny though. We’ll have to toughen you up some, Courtenay.”

Vi rubbed her shoulder and grimaced.

“It’s Genevieve. Well, Vi.”

“You do realize that I was given power here, kid. Which means I will now proceed to get drunk on it, and so it’s nicknames from here on in, each one more demeaning than the next, all under the guise of not showing my soft and cuddly side.” Aoife’s eyes danced merrily, and Vi knew she was being messed with. Strangely, it felt good, like a warm hug of acceptance.

“Yes, because you are a mean and domineering kind of person.” Voice dripping with sarcasm, she looked down at her new supervisor.

“I definitely like you. You speak my language. Sarcasm is underrated, Cinderella,sounderrated. So is clumsiness. You got brownie points from me the moment you swan-dived across the threshold. Not Renate, she believes things such as humanity are entirely passe and everyone should be functioning like her beloved Swiss watches. But fortunately, Chiara has many a soft spot for an underdog and a spectacular fall will always endear you to her.”

Vi rubbed the nape of her neck exposed by the messy bun her hair was pulled into.

“I suppose asking if it was at least a graceful swan dive is pointless?”

Aoife laughed and Vi found herself smiling, the sting of embarrassment dissipating.

“I’ve seen bears do smoother pirouettes. But, I was wondering what kind of stuck-up, rich, asshole intern was being sent over to ruin my summer, and that single event dispelled that notion.”

“What, rich, stuck-up assholes don’t fall on their faces?”

“They do. But something tells me you’re not one of those? Fancy-ass ‘niece of the King of Savoy’ lineage aside.”

Vi rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Well, disregarding myfancy-assfamily tree, I try not to be either of those things.”

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