I looked down onto 5th Avenue from my 30th-floor penthouse. Cars had saturated the roads, and pedestrians formed a throng that looked like they were moving at a snail pace. As I grabbed the railing and scanned the skyscrapers, I noticed in my peripheral that my jacuzzi was bubbling up like
“Sir, you wanted to see me.”
“Tracey, come on in.” I crossed my legs and smiled after I sat in front of Mr Wynn. “Mark received terrible news yesterday. His dad passed away.”
“Oh, my.” “Yes, he’s distraught and had to go on compassionate leave.”
“I’m getting married,” said Jaimy before shrieking. “You have to come to the wedding. I’m not accepting no for an answer. We were best friends for fifteen years before Jaimy moved to France to progress her career as an artist. We had not seen each other in three years, and I needed an excuse