Free The Shiksa Syndrome: A Novel by Laurie Graff Page A

I can’t do this. I just can’t.
    “You look terrified,” he says. “What? Tell me. It’s okay.”
    “Josh”—I take a deep breath—“I really like you. I had a wonderful time tonight. It’s just that . . .” Oh God.
    Josh holds me tighter. His eyes coax me to continue.
    “It’s that I’m not . . . I’m not . . .” Aimee, you can do it. “I’m not—”
    “That kind of girl,” he finishes for me. “Of course you’re not. I didn’t mean to upset you by asking if I can come up. No. Whenever you’re ready. No rush.”
    Josh kisses me on the nose, then nods to the arriving cab he’s going to take it.
    “You get a good night’s sleep, Princess, and I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
    He steps into the cab and is whisked away.
    Princess. I guess not the same as JAP. Mmmmm.

L ove in the F ast L ane

    *** MEDIA ALERT ***                                                                                                                                                                           *** MEDIA ALERT ***
----

    Contact
    Aimee Albert—PR With A Point
[email protected] / 212–555–1910

    KISS Announces Newest High-Speed Color Copier
“KISS in Color”Technology Transforms
Traditional Copier Market

    WHO : KISS KIC725 Copier

    WHAT : Introduction to KISS “Kiss in Color” 725 copier and latest innovative imaging and printing capabilities

    WHERE : XXX—NYC (speak w/Jay)

    WHEN : Late May X? / Early June X? (speak w/Jay)

    WHY : XXX—Tie-in Ramy w/KISS and contest (sched brainstorm)
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    A head start is always a good thing. Especially in PR. We won’t need a media alert until “week of.” But I like to know all Five
W
s early on. Once they are set, I know how to proceed. But not today. The
W
s not the only things out of place, I am distracted beyond distraction. Besides which, it smells like a funeral parlor in here. Seems as if everyone in the office has received flowers.
    The reception area of PR With A Point faces front, in front of a U-shaped hallway along three sides. I step into reception and take my copy of the alert out of the printer. Then, paper and latte in hand, I walk the perimeter looking for Jay, peeking into offices and cubicles to see who got what for Valentine’s Day.
    Jay’s corner office has a round table visible near the open door. The entire top is taken up with an arrangement of lilies of the valley, presumably from Enzo. Do I hear wedding bells?
    A dozen pink roses bloom in a tall glass vase on Nancy Cheng’s desk. Across the hall in Heather Thomson’s office are a dozen white. Krista is elated with an orchid plant, and Sean Borrelli distributes chocolates, dropping handfuls of small dark cocoa squares onto everyone’s desks.
    “A.A.” Jay calls to my back as he races down the hallway. His pace couldn’t be faster if he was running a marathon, and his speech pattern’s just the same. “Been meaning to tell you, honey, that you look
fabulous.
Oh my. And even from the front.” Caught up, Jay says that to my face, though he continues to talk and walk.
    “Thanks. I think.” I wish he’d slow down. “Look, can we schedule a—?”
    “Information. KISS approved a celeb.”
    “Yes?” My antennae are up.
    “They want a celebrity to judge the kissing contest.”
    “So they like it?” Everyone internally was all over my idea at our last meeting.
    “They love it. You PR Star.”
    “Fantastic,” I say, thinking ahead. “So they must have a good budget then, right? Like what? Like seventy-five, a hundred grand? Plus travel expenses?”
    Jay feigns a faint. With his hand, he pretends to slice the number in half. And then slice it again.
    “You’re kidding! What
name
is going to give four hours to judge a contest and talk to the press for just twenty-five thousand dollars?” This