The Bedroom Blog

How I Got a Promotion Without Even Asking

Chloe's harrowing New Year's party earns her some fame.

By Alessandra Torre

By the time the fire department turned off the sprinklers, the party guests were soaked, wet dogs were running free, and our practically naked former assistant had dumped a platter of goat-cheese stuffed mushrooms on Nicole's head before bursting through the doors and out into the NYC cold.

I found Chanel, wet and shaking, under a table. Her fright had not been too great, however, to stop her from demolishing the better half of a tofu pyramid, the upended silver tray underneath her glittery paws. Scooping her up, I texted Nicole, then waited at the coat check, one of the few rooms that had escaped the sprinklers. 

My phone rang, an unfamiliar number, and I hesitated before answering, still wary from Vic's call last week. "Hello?"

"This is Dante. I just dropped off the Brantleys and am on my way to get you and Chanel."

I made the connection to those deep blue eyes I had seen in the rearview mirror on the way over, the deep drawl of his voice touched with just enough Italian accent to make any warm-blooded woman weak in the knees."OK, thanks. We'll be out front."

"It's too cold outside. Wait indoors, I'll text you." He hung up without waiting for a response.

Dante. And he was, proven fifteen minutes later, a punctual guy. I gratefully slid into the warm leather, seat heaters already on, and smiled at him. A smile that wasn't returned, his response shown in the firm shut of the door.

Whatever. I shrugged out of the coat and laid it over the other seat. Chanel bounced onto it and made a nest in the cashmere. I smiled, angling the vents toward us.

"It looks like you had an interesting night."

I glanced forward. "What makes you say that?"

"The first sign was the naked chick who sprinted down the front steps and hopped into the first taxi that would take her."

"Not naked," I corrected. "She was in her bra and underwear."

He shrugged, meeting my eyes in the review mirror. "Tiny ones."

I grinned. "No argument there."

"Who was she? A party crasher?"

My grin widened. "Oh no, that was Jane."

"Jane??? Why was she naked?"

I should have gone quiet then and treated him to his own brand of sexy silence. But, I'm not that kind of girl; not entirely sexy and pretty much never silent. "Nicole — Mrs. Brantley — fired her for speaking to Nicole's manager, so Jane locked herself in the bathroom. I'm not sure why she stripped down."

"That sounds about right."

"What — Jane getting naked?" I leaned forward and gripped the back of the front seat. Who knew that Dante had all the juicy goss?

He made a grunting noise from the front seat, something between a chuckle and a cough. "No, no. I mean Nicole firing her over that. She can be … territorial."

"How so?" I moved further forward, my wet butt almost slipping off the edge of the seat.

He looked back at the road. "You'll see what I mean."

Great. I could almost hear the shuttering of his mind as he closed off. I sat back against the warm leather and wondered, for a minute, if Nicole will blame me for the party's wet turn of events. I hadbeen tasked with sneaking Jane out without drawing attention. There was a beep from the front seat and I saw Dante glance at his cell.

"I've been told to take you home."

"With Chanel?"

"Nicole doesn't want to deal with her tonight. She asked you to take her home, and I'll pick her back up in the morning."

Ugh. This was going to be an issue. I picked up Chanel and tried to look at her through Cammie's eyes. Cammie, who sneezes at a teddy bear. Cammie, who shudders when guests forget to leave their shoes in the hall. Was there really enough room on her couch for two? Chanel panted, happy and unconcerned, smeared tofu and bits of icing stuck in her matted hair.

I sighed, gave Dante the address, and hoped for the best.

When we arrived, Dante turned to face me, his hand moving to rest on the passenger seat. "If you do end up getting Jane's job…" he scratched at the back of his neck, looking away, and my hand paused on its way to the door handle. I gripped Chanel closer. Getting Jane's job … the possibility had occurred to me, right around the time that I saw her boobs bounce past me.

"Just … good luck," he said grimly and twisted forward, shifting the SUV back into drive. I sat there for a minute, then opened the door and stepped into the freezing cold, a mountain of questions generated by his final two words. Good luck in getting the job? Or good luck if I did get the job? I growled, Chanel seconding the motion, her adorable grrr causing me to look down and laugh.Then, careful not to trip, I jogged up the steps toward warmth and Cammie's temper.

I watched the Times Square ball drop with a freshly washed Chanel, her wet body curled up in a towel on my lap. I fell asleep to her soft breath against my arm, Cammie's irritation still lingering in the air.  

Sometime around 2 a.m., Chanel's snores drowning out any ding of my cell phone, I got a text from Nicole.

"Assuming you don't get naked at parties or pull any fire alarms, you've got yourself a promotion. Congratulations. :)"