{"id":24,"date":"2011-02-06T22:06:15","date_gmt":"2011-02-06T22:06:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.de-annblack.com\/?page_id=24"},"modified":"2011-12-11T11:51:39","modified_gmt":"2011-12-11T11:51:39","slug":"the-bitch-proof-suit-e","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.de-annblack.com\/?page_id=24","title":{"rendered":"The Bitch-Proof Suit"},"content":{"rendered":"


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Contents<\/div>\n

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Introduction
1 – If Looks Could Kill
2 – She Who Daire\u2019s Wins
3 – Secrets and Spite
4 – Head for the Malls
5 – Bar Brawling and Atrocious Lies
6 – Dining with the Enemy
7 – Self Promoting Glory Hogs
8 – The Ultimate in Temptation
9 – Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
10 – Irish Martinis and Bad Behavior
11 – The Beautiful and the Spellbound
12 – Scents and Sensibility
13 – Magnets for Trouble
14 – Fortune Telling in the Rain
15 – Dinner or a Date
16 – Enviable Green Hair
17 – Mayhem at the Extravaganza
18 – The Edge of Viciousness
19 – The Masquerade Ball
20 – A Storm Was Brewing<\/div>\n

Epilogue<\/div>\n

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Introduction<\/div>\n

     
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Manhattan<\/span><\/b>, New York<\/span><\/b><\/div>\n

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Bitching can destroy you. It\u2019s a process of erosion. Once the rust sets in you can kiss your ass goodbye. I knew the business bitches were waiting for me but I wasn\u2019t going down without a fight. <\/div>\n
     It had been raining during the night in Manhattan and the hot, early morning sunlight glinted off the streets, bathing the city in a brand new glow. The air was fresh with the scent of potential. That\u2019s what I was hoping for too \u2014 a fresh start, a chance to work on the other side of the world for a few months, and I was going after it, no holds barred. This was my big chance to work in Dublin, and I had a few reasons for wanting to go back to the Irish city, including one who was tall, dark and heartbreakingly luscious.<\/div>\n
     I hurried along the busy street at eight in the morning. I was running a fraction late, but I was armed to the teeth with everything I needed to succeed including one thing in particular \u2014 my bitch\u2013proof suit. In the world of fashion marketing, I was about to put my suit to the ultimate test when I vied against a boardroom full of killer heeled, conniving business bitches to win the top job assignment \u2014 to head the coolhunting department in the company\u2019s new office in Dublin, and settle a few scores at the same time.<\/div>\n
     I\u2019ve worked in fashion marketing for years. I\u2019m known as a coolhunter or futurehunter \u2014 someone who susses out what\u2019s going to be the next big thing. Call it a faze, call it a fad, I call it being able to see the potential in something new that people will like. In my case it\u2019s fashion. But back to the suit . . .<\/div>\n
     My marketing experience helped me create the perfect suit. A lot of work had gone into honing the precise look, the design, the exact tone of charcoal gray for the jacket and skirt, teamed with an arctic white blouse that made the most of my blonde hair, which was styled to a mid nape length and gave just the right balance of fierce gorgeousness. It was a suit by no specific designer. I preferred to use bespoke tailors and have my clothes made with twice the precision at half the price. No labels, no trends, just sheer cutting edge class. I was never model material (unless prettyish, medium height, slender but shapely blondes ever became fashionable on the designer runways), but the suit upgraded what I had to work with.<\/div>\n
     You could cut through glass with the sharpness of the jacket. It was a classic, two button, single breasted design that could be dressed up or down for day or evening. The stitching and finish, from the length of the sleeves to the specific shoulder styling, was perfection personified. The suit skimmed the figure fluidly, rather than hugged it tight, and created a shield that deflected and defended the wearer from incoming insults. What was there to snipe about? Surely not the longer line jacket that flattered every ass from all angles, or the smooth lapels that emphasized the female form without brazenly shoving it in your face. The hem of the perfectly cut, A\u2013line skirt sliced just below the knee with no trace of hemming, and of course, on the derriere there was no hint of visible panty line. We shouldn\u2019t even be thinking about VPL at this level. It just doesn\u2019t happen.<\/div>\n
     The anonymity of the suit and accessories was paramount. No specific designer was crucial. And I chose my shoes carefully. My shoes have great heels. I could run the length of Brooklyn Bridge in them and back at a pace that would make grown men crumble. Imagine court shoes of the third millennium. Futuristic, functional and fabulous. Beat that you bitches.<\/div>\n
     Several of us were vying for the prime opportunity to work in Dublin\u2019s design metropolis. Mega bucks, prestige and the power to influence the core of the fashion industry were at stake. So, as you can imagine, no one was going to take the challenge lightly.<\/div>\n
     The unspeakably glamorous and influential Verde Valmont (pronounced Verdi), had already set the wheels in motion. As one of the New York directors, she\u2019d flown over to Dublin with her assistant, Emer, to secure the ideal offices and start scouting for potential trendsetting designers. Verde was known to her friends as Vee\u2013Vee, so you didn\u2019t hear that name very often.<\/div>\n
     If I got the job, I\u2019d be working with Verde, the epitome of a prize bitch, who gave a whole new meaning to the phrase, fiercely ambitious \u2014 seriously. When she\u2019d been refused the backing of the company\u2019s board of directors for one of her projects, she threatened to jump out of the window of the boardroom unless they relented and gave her exactly what she asked for. They\u2019d still refused. Big mistake \u2014 on their part . . .<\/div>\n
     I was there at the meeting that day, and had I not witnessed it for myself, I\u2019d never have believed it. Verde, seething with rage, called their bluff. Taking everyone by surprise, she jumped from the fourth storey office window, but with it being spring, all the ad banners and canopies were out, and when she jumped, to spite them I may add, the canopies broke her fall and she landed with an undignified thud on the sidewalk below, and then got up and came back in with nothing more than a broken wrist. Whether she knew the banners would break her fall, we\u2019ll never know, but the boardroom backed down and she got what she wanted. That was over a year ago, and by all accounts her wrist still cracked whenever she wrote a check. She wore expensive bracelets and bangles to disguise the slightly wonky wrist bone. They rattled whenever she moved and always reminded me of the ticking croc in Peter Pan.<\/div>\n
     Taking a few deep breaths of fresh air, I headed into the building. In the elevator I guessed who would be there. Company bigwig, Randolph, would be chairing the meeting, as always. Anyone who abbreviated his name to Randy immediately highlighted themselves as an outsider. He had about as much sex appeal as a concrete lamppost, and was just as gray, inflexible and toweringly tall as one. The only surprising thing about Randolph was his age. He was sixty, but he\u2019d been a silver fox for over thirty years. Those who worked for his company were accustomed to his distinguished persona. He was rather like a statue that stands in pride of place for decades and never changes. Everyone thought he\u2019d still be chairing meetings ad infinitum.<\/div>\n
     One of the main contenders for the job, and my official Manhattan based nemesis, Marina DeMar, would be throwing down the gauntlet for sure. Marina recently swore she had Irish blood in her veins from her great, great, great grandmother\u2019s side of the family and therefore she should go to Dublin. Go figure. It was a blatant lie of course. Last season she\u2019d been of French Canadian descent. I seriously doubted Marina had any blood in her. She was frighteningly pale, wafer thin, and when the air conditioning was at its coldest, her blue veins looked like a road map. Okay, so she was an ex\u2013model, but she still looked like death warmed up.<\/div>\n
     Then there was Azuree. Like the other harpies drenched in cookie cutter fashions, Azuree had a degree in superficiality, her only qualification for the job. The last time we\u2019d gone after the same assignment, she\u2019d won, and had stuck a diamond spangled finger up at me as she left the meeting and headed for Milan. I swear if you looked beneath the designer clothes that draped her fabulous figure, you\u2019d find a ninety percent silicone label on her somewhere.<\/div>\n
     Not that I\u2019m against giving nature a helping hand, but it\u2019s just not for me. And in a room with polished wood floors and nothing but original artwork and first edition books, it seemed I was the only one to get the irony of the plastic asses seated on the antique chairs.<\/div>\n
     Around fifteen faces that looked like they wanted to rip my throat out, verbally or otherwise, were waiting in the executive floor office. The sun threatened to burn a hole through the large expanse of glass, but it probably knew better. The temperature was warm, but the atmosphere was cold as steel.<\/div>\n
     Marina DeMar was glaring daggers at me. Her eyes were telling me I was late. My eyes were warning her to think twice about opening her plum lipstick mouth to even hint at it. The moment passed. I walked the length of the boardroom. Silence. Not one word, just vibes that were so strong you could\u2019ve signaled by satellite on the seething energy. Another day in the life of an independent bitch slayer. By the way, my name\u2019s Blue (Bluebell) Byrne. Welcome to my world.<\/div>\n
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Chapter One<\/div>\n

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If Looks Could Kill<\/span><\/b><\/div>\n

     
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The meeting kicked off with Verde. Oh yes, she was still in Dublin, but she wasn\u2019t going to let the vast expanse of half the globe get in the way. Just typical. She was taking part in the meeting in Manhattan via webcam and her wide blue eyes watched me from the computer monitor as I approached my seat. Her disapproval of me was clear judging by the expression on her pursed pink lips that looked like a pussycat\u2019s ass. Like I cared. <\/div>\n
     \u2018Hi, Bluebell,\u2019 she said, with all the false brightness of a fake diamond. \u2018Can I give you a brief personal message from Dublin . . .?\u2019<\/div>\n
     I steeled myself for the flack. Whenever Verde called me Bluebell, it signaled an incoming dose of verbal vitriol. But I was feeling good. Give it your best shot I thought to myself. Unfortunately, her first strike was well below the belt. It hit me like a sucker punch.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Morgan says hi,\u2019 she said, in her usual honeyed, husky tone, without letting her smile falter. Ventriloquists had nothing on Verde. \u2018We had dinner again<\/i> together last night and he sends his, eh . . . his regards.\u2019<\/div>\n
     Yeah, right. Like hell he did. Men like Morgan Daire should come with a warning. Beware. This man will rip your heart out and feed it to the vultures if you\u2019re ever stupid enough to fall for his Irish charm, dimpled smile, sparkling eyes the color of green absinthe and silky dark hair that makes him look like a roguish pirate rather than one of the top movers and shakers in Dublin. Six years ago I\u2019d made that mistake, believing he was the one<\/i>. I\u2019d spent a year working in Dublin, building contacts, making progress in my career, and I\u2019d stupidly let my guard down and invited him into my life. The biggest mistake I\u2019d ever made.<\/div>\n
     Morgan was sharp. A Machiavellian bastard to the core. He\u2019d argued that I\u2019d judged him too harshly, that I couldn\u2019t see the real man behind the scathing facade. It was business, it wasn\u2019t personal, he\u2019d said. If there\u2019s one phrase that makes me want to spit fire it\u2019s that one. How if it involves me is it not personal?<\/div>\n
     He\u2019d had the audacity to say he was actually being kind and that there was no place for me in Dublin or a future for us. He\u2019d effectively jumped on me from a great height, crushing my career aspirations, hopes and dreams in one fell swoop. If that was him being kind, I was in for one hell of a fight when I went back to confront him, to continue where I\u2019d left off, to challenge him on his home turf.<\/div>\n
     He\u2019d raged at me the night I finally found the courage to pack my bags and leave him, and Dublin, behind. \u2018You\u2019re nothing but a marketing mercenary, Blue,\u2019 he\u2019d shouted as I ran across the Ha\u2019penny Bridge over the city\u2019s River Liffey. \u2018Go on, run home to New York where you belong.\u2019<\/div>\n
     And so I did. I threw my mobile phone into the Liffey, got in my hire car and drove to the airport. It had been a harsh goodbye.<\/div>\n
     Anyway . . .<\/div>\n
     I smiled calmly at Verde, as if taking the message at face value. Had she scored a point? She wasn\u2019t sure, and that was enough for me. I decided to chalk it up to yet another bad experience of being within ten feet of her, even if she was only on a computer monitor. And if anything, it made me a hundred times more determined to get this job, so in the oddest way, she\u2019d done me a favor.<\/div>\n
     Indecision is something that really bugs Verde. I could see her flicking her blunt cut, glossy auburn hair in mild annoyance. After a few minutes of Randolph\u2019s introduction to the meeting, Verde had another run at me, just to be sure she\u2019d put the knife in deep enough. I bet she wondered if I\u2019d found someone else. Maybe Morgan Daire was indeed history and I didn\u2019t give a damn about him. Of course, this wasn\u2019t true. The hurt had mellowed, but it still bothered me when I thought about him, and how things could have been.<\/div>\n
     \u2018You\u2019re looking . . .\u2019 Verde began, and then she couldn\u2019t find anything snide to say about my appearance. The bitch\u2013proof suit was working. She didn\u2019t know what to pick on. Okay, so she could have said I looked tired (which I didn\u2019t, but that usually deflates most women\u2019s confidence), in need of a facial (ditto), or anything else, but when I wear this suit, it seems to disconcert those who\u2019d like to undermine me. And the beauty of it is, they can\u2019t quite pinpoint why \u2014 the whole thing is subliminal. All that happens is that they get a feeling of not being able to dish out their usual spiteful comments. It has that effect. You see, no one knows this suit is designed to fight off bitchy attacks and protect the wearer from venomous remarks. It works ninety percent of the time, which is a huge bonus as far as I\u2019m concerned. Anything to help water down the verbal poison gets my vote.<\/div>\n
     I\u2019d never told anyone here about my suit. It was my secret. If I even hinted to Verde about its design, I could risk ruining its effectiveness. And I\u2019d never do that. In fact, I have variations on its theme. You can\u2019t possibly wear the same look all the time. It\u2019s not a uniform. So I\u2019ve also got a basic black and a classic plaid \u2014 and even a red hot scarlet version for specific occasions. However, I have to say, the gray ensemble is the ultimate bitch\u2013proof suit, and I really needed it for the meeting.<\/div>\n
     Verde\u2019s voice sliced through the air. \u2018We all know why we\u2019re here. Fashion is in a rut. Our clients are relying on us to find out where the industry\u2019s future lies. We\u2019ve got to go beyond our usual coolhunting territory and scan the globe for the next big thing.\u2019<\/div>\n
     I started to tune out. It was like listening to the commercials before watching a movie. I wished she\u2019d just cut to the chase. We always heard the same old blurb about how the company was built on being one step ahead of the pack. How fashion trends were more difficult to pin down than a firefly. Firefly my ass. Each decade of the twentieth century, barring the nineties, had a very specific look. Now it was my job to find out what the future looked like. Some call it coolhunting. I call it futurehunting. I\u2019ve got a degree in marketing, studied fashion and design, and I\u2019d merged these skills to carve a niche for myself in Randolph\u2019s marketing company as a new futurehunter. I\u2019d worked for him since I was twenty, and for the past eight years I\u2019d been searching for what was hot and predicting what the market wanted. This information was filtered down to the fashion designers and peripheral industries. Sometimes they used the data, sometimes not, but it was exciting to be part of the process.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Blue, we\u2019ll start by hearing your take on things,\u2019 Verde said briskly.<\/div>\n
     Here we go, I thought. But I was ready.<\/div>\n
     \u2018We\u2019ve got to look to the future,\u2019 I said, sitting where I was, and keeping my notes firmly closed. <\/div>\n
     \u2018You\u2019re not suggesting some stupid spacey fashions,\u2019 Marina chipped in.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Hardly,\u2019 I said. \u2018Silver suits and space age wear isn\u2019t where the future lies. I wouldn\u2019t want to hit the shops dressed in aluminum regardless of the labels.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Women need something new,\u2019 said Randolph. He spread his arms and glanced around the boardroom. \u2018We all want something new.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Exactly,\u2019 I said. \u2018No one in this company has found it yet. Not in New York or anywhere else. I reckon Dublin\u2019s pretty cool \u2014 a cosmopolitan city where innovative ideas are bubbling under the surface. I want to be the one to find them.\u2019<\/div>\n
     Verde cleared her throat, for attention and effect. \u2018Perhaps it\u2019s escaped your notice, Bluebell, but I\u2019m in Dublin right now, working on that precise thing.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018And you\u2019ve been there since when . . .?\u2019 I said.<\/div>\n
     \u2018January.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018This is what . . . the beginning of summer? I haven\u2019t read any of your reports on finding the niche of fashion gold we\u2019re searching for, Verde.\u2019 I was sailing very close to the wind with this one.<\/div>\n
     If looks could kill, I\u2019d be toes up in the bone yard.<\/div>\n
     Marina decided to throw her opinion into the ring, which thankfully took the heat of me. \u2018It was agreed last year that Dublin was an untapped source of designer talent, of fresh creations, and that\u2019s why Verde spearheaded the new offices there. We just need the right coolhunter to track them down.\u2019 She took a deep breath. The bitch was biting to get out. \u2018I have to agree with Blue\u2019s snide conjecture that you\u2019ve failed miserably and that someone else, someone younger, needs to go there to do the real job. While of course you continue to run the show in Dublin behind the scenes.\u2019<\/div>\n
     Not only was Marina standing on thin ice, she was skating her way down the slippery slope to nowhere fast. We all knew Marina was Randolph\u2019s prot\u00e9g\u00e9 but even he had his limits. It was one thing to insinuate, it was quite another to say she\u2019d failed miserably and then add the killer twist \u2014 that Verde was way past her sell\u2013by\u2013date. Call me shallow, but inside I was cheering. I was mentally wearing a little ra\u2013ra skirt and waving my cheerleading pom poms in the air. Marina was out of the contest.<\/div>\n
     A moment\u2019s lull, like an icy breeze, wafted through the boardroom then disappeared rather like Marina\u2019s career was destined to do.<\/div>\n
     Across the table, Azuree was flicking through her notes and getting set to argue why she should go to the Emerald Isle. For entertainment value alone, I didn\u2019t want to miss it. Judging by the tired glaze behind her eyes, she\u2019d had precious little sleep the previous night. If I knew Azuree, she\u2019d been cramming for the meeting like it was a college exam. A sure sign of an amateur. If she didn\u2019t know her marketing statistics by now, she wasn\u2019t up to the task. No amount of meticulously applied under eye concealer could hide the fact that she was out of her league.<\/div>\n
     One by one the main contenders for the job bit the proverbial dust.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Right!\u2019 Randolph finally announced. \u2018I\u2019ve had enough of this farce.\u2019 He nodded to Verde who made no bid to disagree. Clearly she\u2019d had enough too. The stress of listening to fifteen pitches for glory had actually taken the glow off her face and her blush was more pallor than perfect. Randolph put his hands on the table, fists clenched. \u2018Blue. You\u2019re going to Dublin.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Thank you,\u2019 I said, smiling.<\/div>\n
     \u2018And remember,\u2019 Verde added, \u2018fuck this up and you\u2019re history.\u2019<\/div>\n
     With this bolstering thought, the meeting was over. <\/div>\n
     As everyone poured out of the boardroom, Randolph took me aside. \u2018I want you to contact someone when you get to Dublin. He\u2019s set up an office in the city. Sears Pearson.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Sears?\u2019 I said, momentarily dropping my guard. I hadn\u2019t heard that name in a long time.<\/div>\n
     He handed me a business card with the contact details. \u2018Look him up. Find out what he\u2019s up to. He\u2019s always been a ruthless son of a bitch.\u2019<\/div>\n
     I took the card.<\/div>\n
     \u2018E\u2013mail me the details, Blue. Don\u2019t go through Verde.\u2019<\/div>\n
     I nodded. He didn\u2019t have to explain. Sears and Verde had a history, not of love but of war. I never knew what the scandal was, but suffice to say, Sears hated her more than most.<\/div>\n
     I slipped the card into my bag and walked away. Sears Pearson. It was like hearing about a ghost from the past. He\u2019d been the only one to offer any sympathy when I\u2019d been screwed over in Dublin by Morgan. At the time, Sears was working freelance for Randolph in the Manhattan office, but then he struck out on his own. Our paths hadn\u2019t crossed since then. If he was in Dublin, then we were right on the money. There must be new designs, styles and fabrics to be gleaned in Ireland. Sears was one of the best coolhunters in the business and made a small fortune out of predicting future markets. He also happened to be heart\u2013meltingly gorgeous. Blonde, over six foot tall, with sculptured features, a honed physique and style of dress that could only be described as timeless. You could take Sears and put him straight into one of those movies where the hero strides across the desert, golden hair and sapphire blue eyes glinting in the sunlight.<\/div>\n
     I\u2019d never thought of Sears as potential relationship material when I\u2019d worked with him. I\u2019d sort of put him in the untouchable category, like my best friend, Harry. Harry was sublime. Women adored him. He worked in the city doing stockbroker stuff. We\u2019d been friends since college and shared an apartment in Manhattan. Harry had promised to look after things while I was away fighting the dragons in Dublin. I\u2019d been friends with him for too long for it to be anything else but platonic. I guess that\u2019s how I\u2019d always thought about Sears, or was it? There was no time to even think about that. Dublin was beckoning. I had to get my act together.<\/div>\n
     I walked out of the boardroom.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Fuck you!\u2019 Marina whispered as we passed in the doorway. Her eyes were almost alight with the hatred she felt for me.<\/div>\n
     I paused, and looked right at her. I\u2019ve been told that the coldness of my pale gray eyes is soul destroying. I held her gaze.<\/div>\n
     Within seconds she backed down, flicking her hair, glancing at my bitch\u2013proof suit that in close up was every bit as intimidating as at a distance. What was she going to criticize? The color, cut and everything about it was a shield against the typical bitch. No holes in this outfit, real or otherwise. I didn\u2019t have to say anything. She stomped off, her killer heels sounding like an empty echo on the polished wooden floor. <\/div>\n
     Paper tiger were the words that brushed through my thoughts as I heard the last of her disappear into the elevator. A deep breath later, I took a call on my phone from Randolph\u2019s assistant confirming my flight schedule to the one place I swore I\u2019d never go back to. Six years ago I\u2019d left Dublin behind, sure that I\u2019d never return. It had almost destroyed me once, but hell . . . I love a challenge!<\/div>\n
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Chapter Two<\/div>\n

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She Who Daire\u2019s Wins<\/span><\/b><\/div>\n

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That night, my plane flew over Dublin. The lights of the city glistened through the clear evening air, and far below I could see the River Liffey snaking through the city center like dark liquid glass. Numerous bridges spanned the river, lit up in a multi colored display of fantasy, and traffic poured through the streets in a constant stream of bright lights. I could feel the sense of excitement rising up to meet me. I\u2019d almost forgotten how spectacular it was. And I couldn\u2019t help wondering if Morgan Daire even remembered how our lives used to be before the deceit and betrayal that sent me running back to New York. <\/div>\n
     The plane swept around towards the airport, and I saw the unmistakable silhouette of Dublin\u2019s medieval Christ Church Cathedral rising from the thousand\u2013year\u2013old city. It had been one of the last places I\u2019d seen the night I\u2019d left. Still casting an impressive dark shadow upon the landscape, it felt like I\u2019d never been away.<\/div>\n
     Seeing the city again, I could hardly wait to get back. This was my chance to have another go at success here. I used to love Dublin\u2019s timeless mix of ancient and modern culture. The contrasts were amazing \u2014 there was everything from futuristic glass structures and modern sculptures, to narrow cobbled streets and cosmopolitan squares alive with people and music. Dublin was such a continental assortment of styles and fashion. The future had to be down there somewhere.<\/div>\n
     When the plane landed at the airport I phoned Verde\u2019s office, confirming I\u2019d arrived in Dublin, and took a taxi into the heart of the city. It was nine in the evening, but Verde\u2019s world never slept. My call was transferred and picked up by her assistant, Emer. I could hear a party atmosphere in the background. Emer had my hotel booking all arranged. I was glad she\u2019d chosen my hotel as she was the type of PA who could organize a full scale fashion trip to Europe in a couple of well placed phone calls. Emer also settled for nothing less than the best, so I was booked into one of the top hotels overlooking the River Liffey with a magnificent view of the city.<\/div>\n
     Verde came on the line. \u2018Hi Blue. Welcome back to Dublin.\u2019 She sounded almost genuine and upbeat. Had she been at the champagne?<\/div>\n
     \u2018I\u2019m throwing a party this evening,\u2019 she said. \u2018You simply have to be here. It\u2019s just two minutes walk from your hotel. Emer has left the details at the hotel reception. It\u2019s going to be wild. Dress to kill.\u2019<\/div>\n
     I could tell from her tone that it wasn\u2019t a straightforward social invitation. Nothing was ever straightforward with Verde. It was a \u2018be there or you\u2019re dead in the water\u2019 type of invitation. I couldn\u2019t refuse. Even after a long haul flight I couldn\u2019t possibly rain check the party, which was no doubt a company promo disguised as a celebration \u2014 Verde\u2019s specialty. And there would be a theme. There was always a theme.<\/div>\n
     Settling in at the hotel, I kicked off my shoes and tore open the envelope Emer had left for me. I might have guessed what the theme would be \u2014 incognito. Verde had a fascination for mystery and secrets \u2014 and deceit. I liked a bit of mystery myself, in moderation of course, but my instincts warned me that there was an underlying reason why she\u2019d chosen this. Perhaps she had a surprise for me. Let\u2019s see . . .? Could it possibly involve Morgan Daire? I sensed it would. How could Verde resist throwing a party to dangle Morgan in front of me and gloat at my reaction? Hmm. Dress to kill, she\u2019d said. Well, she asked for it . . .<\/div>\n
     Although I\u2019d wanted a shower, a latte and a time machine so that I could extend the half hour I had to get ready for the party, I settled for two out of the three. I showered first and then ordered a latte from room service. I\u2019d really wanted to flake out on the bed, which was completely sumptuous, just like the entire room. It even had its own small balcony. I slid open the glass doors and stepped out to admire the view. It was the most perfect summer evening \u2014 warm without so much as a whisper of a breeze, and vibrating with potential. I sipped the latte, but it was the thought of the night ahead that lifted my energy, and I mentally prepared what I\u2019d wear for maximum impact. No bitch\u2013proof suit tonight. I was saving it for another day. Besides, there was more than one way to skin a cat.<\/div>\n
      <\/div>\n
I knew the venue well, which was a distinct advantage. I\u2019d had dinner and drinks there a few times with Morgan in what seemed like another life. I know you can\u2019t change the past, but you can change how you feel about it. I wasn\u2019t sure how I\u2019d feel when I saw Morgan again. I imagined it would feel like that empty zone where there\u2019s nothing left to say, nothing to make it right. Or just sheer rage. Either option wouldn\u2019t be pretty, but I\u2019d geared myself up to handle it \u2014 and hide it. After all, the theme was incognito. <\/div>\n
     Okay, so I wasn\u2019t going in disguise, but I had a trick up the sleeve of my sheer silver jacket. It was an ace card that I could only play once. I was banking on Morgan being there. I could almost taste the set up. Fine, I\u2019d play along. Verde was a master of manipulation, but I was betting that Morgan Daire was playing in a league he just wasn\u2019t ready for.<\/div>\n
     The evening air felt warm against my skin as I walked the short distance from my hotel to the venue. There were lots of people about, and I paused for a moment to look at the reflections of the nightlife sparkling on the surface of the Liffey. It was good to be back.<\/div>\n
     Taking a steadying breath, I approached the entrance to the party. Through the glass doors I saw that it was busy with hundreds of people. Two doormen in evening suits welcomed me in, and I noted that my name was near the top of the guest list. The sounds of laughter, lively music, and the buzz that only Dublin can stir up pulled me in. I glanced around and up towards the second floor balcony where gilded lights hung down from an impossibly high ceiling. The decor was a heady mix of the Far East with velvet seats, cushions and exotic palms with subtle touches of Irish hospitality. I had to admit, it looked fantastic, and although I knew I was here to play Verde\u2019s contrived game, I couldn\u2019t help feeling like I really wanted to have fun. It arrived sooner than I\u2019d imagined.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Blue! Hi! Isn\u2019t this fabulous,\u2019 Verde said, homing in on me. She was head to toe in her ubiquitous black separates and had a cocktail glass in her carefully manicured hand. I didn\u2019t hear her wrist crack as she sipped her drink, but she was wearing gold bracelets to camouflage the damage. \u2018We\u2019ve even got our very own cocktail,\u2019 she said, giving me no time to respond. \u2018It\u2019s a Dublin Manhattan Gold \u2014 you simply have to try a sip.\u2019<\/div>\n
     As if on cue, a waiter offered me a glass of the amber liquid. I tasted it. \u2018It\u2019s delicious,\u2019 I said, smiling, and without a hint of a lie. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, food or both, but this thing had a real kick in it and the effect was . . . rather good.<\/div>\n
     \u2018I had it specially created. It\u2019s an intriguing mix of Irish whiskey, rum, triple sec and sweet vermouth \u2014 with just a hint of mystery,\u2019 she said in a confiding tone. \u2018Perfect for women like us, Blue.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Whatever it is, it tastes good,\u2019 I said, feeling that momentary conflict of extreme emotions whenever I encountered Verde having not met her for a while. At one end of the scale, I despised her two faced bitching, and at the other I felt almost sad that we weren\u2019t friends. To outsiders we appeared to be on close terms and she almost managed to fool me a few times when her ingenuous smile led me to believe that deep down she really liked me.<\/div>\n
     \u2018I do love your hair,\u2019 she said. \u2018I don\u2019t think I\u2019ve ever seen you wear it like that before. I hardly recognized you.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018I felt like doing something different with it.\u2019<\/div>\n
     She nodded approvingly. \u2018You should wear it in a chignon more often. Blondes can look so sophisticated with an up do, don\u2019t you think. And I adore the firefly.\u2019 She was referring to the sparkling clasp in my hair. It was an antique, and the wings were studded with diamante. Although not expensive, to me it was priceless, a sort of lucky charm I\u2019d had for years.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Wherever did you get that cocktail dress?\u2019 she asked, suddenly stepping back to admire my outfit.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Oh this is just something I brought over with me. I keep it for special occasions.\u2019 It wasn\u2019t a lie, but it wasn\u2019t the full story either. When I\u2019d been packing my bags for the trip, I\u2019d come across some amazing clothes I hadn\u2019t worn since Dublin. In fact, this is where I\u2019d originally bought them. I\u2019d taken them back home with me to New York. They were too beautiful to throw away, but the memories were too raw to wear them again \u2014 until now. They\u2019d been perfectly wrapped in the finest tissue paper and hidden in my wardrobe all this time. Without a second\u2019s thought, I\u2019d added them to my luggage. Tonight I\u2019d worn this particular dress for a very special reason. Morgan was in for a surprise.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Fabulous, really fabulous,\u2019 said Verde. She linked her arm through mine. \u2018We should go and join the others.\u2019<\/div>\n
     Within the sea of faces I didn\u2019t recognize anyone, and then, from the second floor balcony, I saw Morgan, or rather, I saw his reaction when he saw me. The fun was about to begin.<\/div>\n
     Verde and I made our way up the stairs. This was it. No turning back.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Morgan\u2019s been so looking forward to seeing you again,\u2019 said Verde.<\/div>\n
     I shot her a glance.<\/div>\n
     She squeezed my arm tight and pulled me closer to her. \u2018Seriously,\u2019 she emphasized, her blue eyes unflinching.<\/div>\n
     I smiled. \u2018You know I don\u2019t believe a word you\u2019re saying.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Oh but you will. Morgan\u2019s got secrets \u2014 and I know them all,\u2019 she whispered.<\/div>\n
     He was standing at the top of the stairs, his intense green eyes reflecting that I\u2019d chosen the right outfit. Like a ghost from the past, I was back to haunt the present. I was wearing the same sheer silver and black silk dress and jacket I\u2019d worn the last time Morgan and I were ever together. I\u2019d even worn my hair in the same way.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Doesn\u2019t Blue look divine,\u2019 said Verde, depositing me right in front of him. At well over six feet tall he towered above both of us, and was a vision of brooding darkness in a well cut black suit and deep emerald shirt.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Like a familiar stranger,\u2019 he murmured. The resonance of his rich tone sounded clear above the bustling noise of the party.<\/div>\n
     Hearing his seductive Dublin accent again almost took my breath away. Luckily, I could see he wasn\u2019t coping very well with meeting me again. The muscles in his jaw were tightening and I sensed that his instincts had hit him like a hammer striking glass. I\u2019d just shattered whatever he\u2019d been anticipating. I\u2019d done my best to step back in time as if the past six years were but a moment away. I hadn\u2019t needed that time machine after all.<\/div>\n
     Unfortunately, I\u2019d put so much thought into creating an effect on him, that I hadn\u2019t prepared myself for the effect he\u2019d have on me. I\u2019d thought I could walk right up to him, but it wasn\u2019t that simple. Outwardly I gave the impression of being ultra cool and confident, but inside I was a wreck. Okay, so I\u2019d definitely rattled Morgan, but I felt myself being crushed just seeing him again. His hair was even sexier than before, with a few dark strands falling over his forehead, emphasizing his deep, green gaze. His face was more sculptured, and although his lips bore no hint of a smile, the dimples in his cheeks were a permanent feature of his inherent charm.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Blue\u2019s going to be working with me for the next few months,\u2019 Verde said. \u2018She\u2019s heading up the coolhunting office. It\u2019s going to be fun.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Good luck,\u2019 Morgan said, meaning anything but that. It was a Dublin thing to wish someone good luck in an undertone that really meant \u2014 yeah right, no chance.<\/div>\n
     \u2018I take it you think I\u2019ve a snowball\u2019s chance in a furnace of finding success here this time,\u2019 I said bluntly, using one of his favorite expressions.<\/div>\n
     Morgan blinked. \u2018Clearly you\u2019ve become more fiercely ambitious than Vee\u2013Vee, so I withdraw any insinuations. I\u2019m sure you\u2019ll be a wild success.\u2019<\/div>\n
     My blood was burning. How dare he! But I didn\u2019t want to rise to the bait, which was obviously what he wanted.<\/div>\n
     \u2018I\u2019ll take that as a compliment,\u2019 I said, smiling defiantly.<\/div>\n
     Suddenly, a man stepped from the crowd and swept me off my feet \u2014 literally. I gave a scream of surprise, and then laughed as I realized it was Murphy, one of the closest friends I\u2019d had in Dublin. He was an incorrigible rogue of a man in his mid thirties who was highly influential in the city. Last time I\u2019d seen him, he was being lauded as the next big name in the designer industry. He placed me down, kissed my hand and gave me a warm hug. I\u2019d never been so pleased to have an Irish welcome. I swear Morgan\u2019s eyes turned a deeper shade of green.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Murphy!\u2019 I squealed, \u2018It\u2019s great to see you again.\u2019<\/div>\n
     Verde glanced between us. She hadn\u2019t anticipated that I\u2019d know anyone at the party, especially someone like Murphy who was an immensely popular designer on the fashion scene. Lean and lithe with wild auburn hair and a week\u2019s worth of stubble on his chin, he looked like the epitome of artistic cool. Often described as a modern classic talent, it was a label that suited him as perfectly as his elaborately designed cream shirt.<\/div>\n
     Murphy held me at arms length. \u2018Blue Byrne! You look great. What\u2019s it been, five, six years now? You don\u2019t look any different.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018That\u2019s because she\u2019s wearing the same dress she wore the night she ran away,\u2019 Morgan said. He didn\u2019t even attempt to disguise the bitterness in his tone.<\/div>\n
     \u2018I\u2019m surprised you remember, considering what a bastard you were to her before,\u2019 Murphy snapped in his lilting, Dublin accent.<\/div>\n
     There was an explosive silence, but inside I was cheering. Murphy had said exactly what I\u2019d love to have told Morgan. <\/div>\n
     \u2018Were you anything more than an ingratiating arsehole, we\u2019d settle this outside,\u2019 Morgan growled at Murphy, then walked away to the bar.<\/div>\n
     Murphy shrugged off the insult and focused his attention on me. \u2018How long are you going to be in Dublin?\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Four months,\u2019 I said.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Brilliant!\u2019<\/div>\n
     An announcement on the P.A. system interrupted our conversation. \u2018I\u2019d like to ask everyone to raise their glasses and drink a toast to Murphy. Congratulations on your new fashion collection.\u2019<\/div>\n
     Someone beckoned Murphy over to a raised platform. Apparently this was just one of several events to publicize his autumn\/winter collection.<\/div>\n
     Murphy glanced at Verde and then at Morgan who was watching us like a hawk from the bar. \u2018These people don\u2019t even like you,\u2019 Murphy said to me. \u2018Come on over here with me. We\u2019ve got a lot to catch up on.\u2019 He took hold of my hand and led me away.<\/div>\n
     Verde called after me. \u2018Work starts tomorrow at eight, Bluebell. Don\u2019t be late.\u2019<\/div>\n
     I turned and nodded, as Murphy pulled me into the hub of the crowd.<\/div>\n
     I couldn\u2019t have asked for a better slingshot into the local fashion scene. The evening was abuzz with the party spirit and everyone wanted to know who the woman was on Murphy\u2019s arm. And it was me. He\u2019d hardly let go of me. By the end of the night I had about ten different business cards in my handbag to kick start my networking with the movers and shakers. <\/div>\n
     I finally persuaded Murphy to untether me so I could go to the ladies room. Verde walked in behind me. She\u2019d obviously been watching and waiting for her moment. The lack of my bitch\u2013proof suit was about to be put to the test.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Congratulations Blue. Round one to you,\u2019 she said, fixing her hair in the mirror and then enveloping both of us in a bubble of expensive perfume as she spritzed it on lavishly. \u2018Morgan has already left fuming.\u2019<\/div>\n
     Maybe it was the cocktails, but she seemed happy her plan hadn\u2019t worked.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Is there something going on between you and Morgan I should know about?\u2019 I said.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Oh there\u2019s definitely something going on between Morgan and me \u2014 but you really shouldn\u2019t know about it,\u2019 she said cryptically.<\/div>\n
     \u2018A secret, is it?\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Absolutely,\u2019 she said in a conspiratorial voice, drifting back into the party crowd.<\/div>\n
     I let her go. If there\u2019s one thing I\u2019d learned from experience, it was that getting a secret out of Verde was the human equivalent of prying open Fort Knox. The only way to get the information was to find a key. You\u2019d never force it out of her.<\/div>\n
      <\/div>\n
\u2018What are your plans for accommodation?\u2019 Murphy asked at the end of the evening as we walked back to my hotel. He\u2019d insisted on seeing me there safely. <\/div>\n
     \u2018I\u2019m going to live out of a suitcase for a couple of weeks, just to see how things settle at work, and then look for an apartment to rent.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018I\u2019ve got friends in the property market. Let me know and I\u2019ll help you arrange something.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Thanks.\u2019<\/div>\n
     At that moment, Morgan\u2019s sleek black car revved up and parked opposite the hotel.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Call me paranoid, but I think we\u2019re being watched,\u2019 Murphy said, with a twinkle of humor in his mischievous hazel eyes.<\/div>\n
     Wickedly, Murphy and I both smiled across at Morgan and waved. He drove off at speed.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Arrogant arsehole,\u2019 Murphy muttered, and then took my arm, linked it with his, and walked me into the hotel. He kissed my hand flamboyantly, with charm and wit, and bid me goodnight. <\/div>\n
     It was something else I\u2019d forgotten about Dublin \u2014 the almost chivalrous hand kissing and old fashioned gestures. I remembered I\u2019d even had men kneel down and kiss my Italian suede boots, making me feel like a damsel from another era. To find such gestures, whether or not they were frivolous tongue in cheek and part of the Irish charm, was like finding a diamond in the rough. In today\u2019s world of slick bastards and commitment phobic guys, it was refreshingly heartfelt.<\/div>\n
     Harry phoned the hotel minutes after I got up to my room.<\/div>\n
     \u2018How did things go with the wicked witch?\u2019 he asked, using his favorite nickname for Verde.<\/div>\n
     \u2018She set me up.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Still as predictable as ever, huh?\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018She threw a party, and spun a web for me while she was at it.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018I take it Morgan was there.\u2019<\/div>\n
     I sighed wearily.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Okay, what happened?\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Verde invited him to the party. I knew she would, so I was ready.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018How did you feel seeing him again? Had he got fat, gone to seed, lost some of that legendary Irish charm you said he had?\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018No, he\u2019s even more handsome and as darkly charming as ever. I felt completely distraught. You know that time we went to the funfair? How you practically forced me on to that stomach churning roller coaster?\u2019<\/div>\n
     Harry laughed. \u2018And when you got off, you looked like you\u2019d been through a wind tunnel at speed.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Well that\u2019s how I felt when I saw him again,\u2019 I paused. \u2018I\u2019m so angry. I thought I could handle it, but I messed it up big style.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018What have you been drinking?\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Who said I\u2019d been drinking?\u2019 I said, and then hiccuped<\/div>\n
     \u2018Oh it was just a wild guess.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Cocktails. Dublin Manhattan Golds to be precise. And they\u2019re good.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Too good by the sounds of it.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Don\u2019t worry, you know the cocktail lifestyle isn\u2019t my scene. I just needed to let my hair down a little.\u2019<\/div>\n
     I glanced in the mirror. Strands of hair were dangling down from my carefully sculptured chignon. I\u2019d been dancing the night away with Murphy\u2019s crowd. Dubliners certainly knew how to party. I looked like a wild woman, and unclasped the firefly to let my hair tumble free.<\/div>\n
     \u2018So what\u2019s on the agenda tomorrow? Is Verde still running the show over there?\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Pretty much, but I\u2019m going to have my own office and I\u2019ll be heading the actual futurehunting,\u2019 I explained, recounting the details Emer had left for me. \u2018Despite everything, I\u2019m looking forward to it. I met Murphy at the party. He\u2019s a fashion designer I used to know, and we\u2019ve arranged to meet up. He\u2019s promised to give me the lowdown on what\u2019s happening on the design front in Dublin. We\u2019re having breakfast in one of my favorite places tomorrow. It\u2019s a traditional Irish cafe. I used to go there all the time. They serve the most delicious Dublin breakfasts.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018You\u2019re making me jealous already.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Scrumptious, freshly baked soda bread and pancakes served with \u2014\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Your ass will get fat.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018It will not.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018It will, you\u2019re ass will triple like an overdone souffl\u00e9.\u2019<\/div>\n
     I laughed. \u2018I lost weight the last time I was here. A diet of heartbreak, stress and harassment works for me,\u2019 I said, half joking. \u2018If anyone\u2019s going to get fat it\u2019s you because I won\u2019t be there to make sure you eat properly.\u2019<\/div>\n
     We both laughed. Harry was a stickler for eating right and had membership of two gyms. He didn\u2019t have an ounce of fat on him.<\/div>\n
     \u2018What time is it in Manhattan?\u2019 I asked, suddenly feeling a twinge of homesickness.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Time you got some sleep. I\u2019ll bet Verde\u2019s going to be cracking the whip bright and early tomorrow.\u2019<\/div>\n
     He was right, of course, as usual.<\/div>\n
     \u2018Okay,\u2019 I said. \u2018Be good. Don\u2019t do anything I wouldn\u2019t do.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018As if,\u2019 he said. I could hear the smile in his voice. \u2018And remember \u2014 don\u2019t let the Irish charmer get to you.\u2019<\/div>\n
     \u2018Never,\u2019 I assured him, hoping this was true.<\/div>\n

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    Contents   Introduction 1 – If Looks Could Kill 2 – She Who Daire\u2019s Wins 3 – Secrets and Spite 4 – Head for the Malls 5 – Bar Brawling and Atrocious Lies 6 – Dining with the Enemy 7 – Self Promoting Glory Hogs 8 – The Ultimate in Temptation 9 – … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":6,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-24","page","type-page","status-publish"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.de-annblack.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/24","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.de-annblack.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.de-annblack.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.de-annblack.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.de-annblack.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=24"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.de-annblack.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/24\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":321,"href":"https:\/\/www.de-annblack.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/24\/revisions\/321"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.de-annblack.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/6"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.de-annblack.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=24"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}