Citizen Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

dance.’
    ‘Cool,’ Jack says, his teeth radiating, every fleck of lint on his sweatshirt standing out like electric rice kernels. I follow his locked gaze to the glowing bra of the woman on our left, who clutches at her suddenly translucent shirt and makes a beeline for the coat rack. ‘I’m gonna see how many losers’ll beg me to take their business cards. You’re on your own.’
    ‘Don’t leave with anyone and don’t drink anything.’
    Nodding, Jack disappears into the throng.
    All around me Flashlight stickers emit a neon blue beam as people do-si-do through the floor in search of a Crown. I jostle into the long queue for a free drink.
    ‘Oh, Thirty-Fourth Street is the best one.’ The woman ahead of me touches the arm of her friend’s pulsing Union Jack shirt to emphasize her point. ‘They have couches and wireless connections. And they’ll totally turn a blind eye if you bring your own sandwich. We should meet there. I’m serious about us starting this closet-organizing business.’
    ‘I’m still hung up on the book idea – your boss was as big an asshole as mine.’
    ‘We can decide Monday. How’s ten?’
    ‘Oh, that’ll be tough. I used to have that hour between The Today Show and The View free, but I can’t miss Ellen .’
    ‘Huh,’ the Starbucks aficionado peruses her Palm Pilot.
    ‘I could watch it at your place and we could work during the commercials,’ offers the Ellen fan.
    ‘Can’t. I just sold my TV on eBay.’
    ‘I got three hundred for all my bridesmaid dresses, but I can’t give up my TV.’
    ‘I watch at the gym. Two, please.’ She waves her cigarette-free fingers at the bartender to indicate their drink order. ‘H.R. never cancelled my company membership and it’s been, like, a year.’ She passes off a cup, but they remain rooted in my path.
    ‘You know, I ran into a woman last week who’s selling her used underwear on eBay – she’s getting over a hundred a pair. That’s how you really make money.’ They crane their heads. ‘See any cute Smiley Faces?’
    Running an appraisal of my meager sellables – the roasting pan I don’t have an oven for, the ancient laptop that sizzled to an ugly death, my lever-less toaster – I shimmy around them to grab my paper cup of booze. Jack leaps into the air from a nearby throng, waving a handful of cards over the heads of the legitimately stickered. Thus prodded, I down the free liquor, exhale, and plunge deep into the swarm, glancing at the chests of every passing soul. After a full loop of the room, I pause to get my bearings beside a thick-necked man whose lapels are sticker-free. We exchange smiles and he flashes his leather jacket open in my direction, revealing a Crown sticker on the down low. ‘Hi!’
    ‘What’s up?’ he asks, shifting his paper cup to shake my hand. ‘Do you produce?’
    ‘Yes,’ I say definitively, swinging my hair over my shoulder.
    ‘Really. What scope do you work with?’
    ‘Multiple scopes! Big, small. Just completed a massively scaled production for an event in Ohio – it was a national thing. You know.’
    ‘Cool.’ He nods, the black light illuminating his bleached teeth through his skin, creating two macabre stripes. ‘We’re looking for people who have experience instituting systems.’ He hands me a brochure from his breast pocket and I catch a graphic of a satellite.
    ‘I love systems. Yeah, I had to put together quite a system to get this Ohio thing to run smoothly.’
    He leans in to be heard over the music, enveloping me in his Remy-soaked breath. ‘How do you feel about Sun? Or do you prefer Microsoft?’
    Um … ‘I’m really a paper person. You know, To-Do lists, index cards, binders. But systems are really important. God, just so … important. For example, this production system that I set up for our Ohio materials …’ He looks a bit lost. I switch gears. ‘I feel great about the sun, though. Just really good. Great.’
    Yup.
    He scans above my head,