Spin Control Read Online Free PDF

`you know you're from Missouri
if' commentary out here, so I might be a little quick
with the sword."
    "Might?" Michael winked.
    I felt myself blush. I prayed he didn't see that.

     

I flipped the switch inside my office door, and the fluorescent lights hummed a moment and then blinked on.
There was no natural light coming in through my window at this time of day, in this dreary March. The pitiless clock on the wall boasted 6:45.
    This was supposed to be my morning of victory, or
so Anna had told me. I was supposed to bound in to the
meeting bursting with health and style. Instead, I was
creeping into the office before the paperboys had even
finished their deliveries, my eyes still stinging from the
sleep I didn't get. Not that I hadn't tried after I'd sent
Michael home at about 2 A.M. I'd tossed. I'd turned.
    I'd given up.
    On top of the sleepless misery, I couldn't bear the
thought of watching cheesy early-morning television.
The only alternatives were staring absently at my
closet, waiting for a knock-Devin-dead outfit to throw itself at me, or coming to work two hours before everyone else in Manhattan. I chose both, only the latter of
which was successful. After pulling shirts from dresser
drawers and skirts from hangers for an hour, I begrudgingly decided on a sleeveless black cowl-neck sweater,
a brick-red skirt that hit just above the knee, and
strappy, wedged Mary Janes.

    I sauntered to the office kitchen and grabbed a bottle
of water. What I really needed was an I.V. of java, but
getting within ten feet of coffee would guarantee that it
would become an unwelcome addition to my already
shaky outfit. Instead, I opted for a nice, cold bottle of
water-safe option.
    Back at my desk, I stared at my notes, waiting for inspiration to hit. I supposed that I didn't need to worry
about it; after all, the plan Michael and I had set into
place was pretty straight-forward: Don't threaten
Devin, be his friend, give him a list of high-end events
to attend and people to be around, and so on.
    I didn't much care for the idea of poring through all
these notes again, but still, my experience as a public
relations executive told me that preparation was essential. Anna always said I was blessed with the gift of
speaking off the cuff, but overconfidence in such an
ability could devour me. I imagined worst-case scenarios of blanking when Fox Underhill asked me about the
strategy for Devin or when Devin himself questioned
my involvement in the project. Shaking my head to
clear it of the negative visions, I grabbed my notes, circled my office, and began practicing how I would start
the meeting before handing it off to Michael.

    "Well, well, well, this must be the famed Devin Underhill I've been hearing so much about." I extended
my hand for an imaginary handshake. "It's a pleasure
to place the man with the name-all those pictures in
the magazines really don't do you justice." I smacked
an open palm against my forehead, partly out of frustration, partly out of embarrassment for myself.
    "Devin is never going to go for this." I said as I
turned back to the desk to scavenge my notes. "He will
blow my cover, we will lose the account, Gwen will fire
me, and I will be shuffling through the streets of New
York in a tattered overcoat, pushing a shopping cart
and talking to myself like the crazy person I am"
    "You should charge admission for that routine."
    I gasped and jumped back at the voice. There, leaning against the doorframe, was Michael, dressed in a
navy-blue jacket and a white Oxford shirt with one button undone.
    "No tie."
    "Good morning to you too" Michael looked down.
"Oh, should I have worn one?"
    "No, I'm just going into shock because I've never
seen you without a tie, that's all."
    "I see that your wit is always on, twenty-four-seven."
    "What can I say? All that sleep I got last night just
jazzed me up" I picked up my folder with notes and
immediately dropped it on my desk. "Just so you