Delicate

Chapter 2

HAVEN MCQUEEN

At 2:00 on the dot, I'm hopping out of my car and rushing into Maru Coffee to look around in the crowded cafe for someone who might be looking for me, but then I get a text from Jeff letting me know that he's running just a few minutes late. I text him back a thumbs-up emoji and get in line to order my coffee while wondering if that's what I should be doing. Maybe it'd be more polite to wait for him. Still, I order an iced vanilla latte and stand off to the side to wait.

I'm just barely handed my latte when the door opens and I make a double-take at Jeff. I may or may not have Googled him to see what he looks like so that I knew who to look for when I arrived, and I guess he did the same thing when he lifts his hand to wave at me.

"Hi," I hold my coffee in my left hand to take his with my right. "Haven."

"Jeff," he sighs. "Sorry I'm late, I was coming from another meeting and you know how traffic is."

"Oh, of course," I nod and take a step back. "You can order if you want and I'll just find a place to sit. Are you cool with outside?"

"Yeah, that's fine," he nods indifferently and takes a spot in line.

I steal a small table out in the back courtyard shielded from the sun by an oversized yellow umbrella and sip from my drink before the ice can water the coffee down too quickly. In my head, I'm wondering if I should have prepared for this interview or meeting a bit better, but I think the best sign is that he asked to meet me. How badly could I mess it up in that case?

"Alright, sorry again," he comes hurrying over to the table I picked, scraping the legs of the chair against the cracked tile flooring to sit across from me. "How are you doing?"

"I'm great, yeah," I set my plastic cup down. "How are you?"

He exhales through puffed-out cheeks, clearly more stressed out than I am somehow. "I'm good, I just have a lot going since Harry released his album in May and there's quite a bit left to do before he goes on tour in September...which is why we're meeting now."

"Right," I stop fidgeting with my cup and hold my hands in my lap. "Yeah, like I told you on the phone, your timing was great. I just quit my job at the agency I was working for–the one you emailed me at."

"Oh, no way," his eyes widen. "When?"

"Yesterday," I tsk. "My boss sucked and I was tired of working so hard just to receive barely a paycheck. I mean, they can only spew the bullshit about how this is all 'good experience' for so long, y'know? I didn't work my ass off in school making connections and shit just to still be treated like an intern three years later."

He smiles like he thinks I'm being funny, and I wonder if I may have ranted just a little too aggressively. "No, I hear that. Never feels good to be taken advantage of."

"Exactly," I sip the last bit of my coffee. "But I also didn't have much of a backup plan, so..."

"So I'll get right into it," he laughs and taps the table. "Like I sort of mentioned in the email, I had a whole list of stylists that I sent to Harry, and he picked you out of the bunch. He liked the work you've done in the past as well as an interview you did with W Magazine."

"Really?" I raise my brows. "Wow. It's not often the client chooses the stylist. The manager usually does that in my experience."

He shakes his head, swallowing a sip from his own iced coffee. "Harry is really passionate about his fashion and style. He likes to be involved in deciding what he's going to wear and where he's wearing it. He's not exactly the type of person to just show up and put on whatever he's told to."