Chronicles Of A Lincoln Park Fashionista - Plot & Excerpts
Today is Thursday, and I’m stuck with the awful, horrible, incredibly judgmental Deke Ryan for the entire workday. Which is exactly eight hours too long, in my opinion. I exhale sharply as I enter the lobby. I haven’t seen Deke since he finished shooting at my apartment on Monday night, which turned out to be horribly awkward and difficult after I overheard him trashing me on his cell phone. Anger instantly flames up in me, as it has done every time I’ve relived that nightmare in my mind. Which is probably like 127 times in four days. Not that I’m counting. It’s not like I really care. At all. Okay, that’s a total lie. I do care. But who is Deke to judge me, anyway? He’s a stupid videographer. One who can’t even make polite conversation with a stranger. One who thinks a deteriorated Chicago Bears T-shirt is a fashion statement. And since when is it a crime to buy a pink coffeemaker?
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