The Apartment Read Online Free PDF

her own office then, and the day flew by with meetings, and some research she had to do after their meeting that morning. She always did her homework and followed up meticulously. George knew that he could count on her, and she gave him the information at the end of the day.
    She had a meeting with a stock analyst that evening for a drink. She wanted to discuss two new IPOs with him, and hear what he had to say. She had her doubts about one of them. Her dream was to have her own select group of clients one day. She wasn’t as aggressive a risk taker as George, but she had solid knowledge, used sound investment practices, and had six years of great experience since business school. She was well on her way, even if she never attained the stellar heights that George had achieved in his dazzling career, but who knew what could happen? She was on a definite career path. Her life was in a good place.
    —
    It was another stressful day for Claire, with arguments with Walter about the quantity of shoes they should produce for their spring line. He always wanted to play it safe, both with production quantity and design. She wished he would give her more leeway, but he never did. He never budged on anything. And Monique, the new French intern, irritated her all day. Claire felt like she was babysitting a petulant child and didn’t have time to entertain her. By the time she got back to the apartment, Claire was seriously aggravated, and wished she had the guts to quit. But she needed the money, and didn’t want to take a chance on being out of work while she looked, or risking the job she had if she started looking and Walter heard about it and fired her. He had her back to the wall, and all she wanted to do was design more exciting shoes.
    As she dropped her keys onto the hall table, and glanced at her mail—all bills and ads, everything else came to her by e-mail or on Facebook—she noticed that Sasha was already home. She could see her lying on the couch, barefoot and in shorts, reading a magazine. Sasha glanced up at her and smiled, sipping a glass of wine, which meant she was off call, which was a relief for her. She hardly ever got time off, and Claire couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her read a magazine.
    “They finally gave you a break?” She was happy for her.
    “I’m not working this week,” Sasha said vaguely, sipping her wine.
    “Not since yesterday. That’s hardly what I’d call a vacation.” Sasha laughed at her then and sat up on the couch. “I had a shit day,” Claire complained to her. “I may have to kill the little French girl, if I don’t kill Walter first. I’m beginning to have fantasies about it. I’m sick of designing shoes for women with no imagination and no taste.”
    “Then quit,” Sasha said bluntly. “Fuck them. Why be miserable in your job?”
    “Hello, remember me? I need the money. I’m not an heiress, and what if I’m out of work for six months? That could happen.” Claire looked worried as she said it.
    “There’s always prostitution,” Sasha said, sounding flippant, and suddenly what she said didn’t seem like her. Sasha was always sensitive about Claire’s fears about her job and her future.
    And then Claire took a closer look and narrowed her eyes as she stared hard at Sasha.
    “Smile at me,” she said cryptically to the exquisite woman on the couch. Sasha had a natural beauty that nothing could dim, even uncombed hair and hospital scrubs.
    “Why?” she said in response.
    “Never mind why—smile at me.” Sasha did as she was told, and smiled broadly, showing off gorgeous, perfect teeth. She hadn’t even had braces. She’d been naturally flawless from birth. And Claire laughed the moment she smiled. “Jesus, you two ought to be forced to wear a sign, or get a tattoo on your foreheads with your name.” Only when they smiled could she detect the faintest dissimilarity in the twins. Although they looked the same, and were truly identical, there