The Battered Body Read Online Free PDF

agitation was renewed.
    James slammed the Bronco into park, leapt from the car, and waved at Paulette. He recognized her immediately because Milla had informed him that Paulette closely resembled Meryl Streep’s character in the movie The Devil Wears Prada . The displeased woman surrounded by a small mountain of Louis Vuitton luggage had a slim figure, well-tailored clothing, and a pair of narrowed, angry eyes.
    “Paulette?” James extended his hand as the older woman snapped her phone closed and bared a row of white but rather pointy teeth.
    “Where the hell have you been?” she snarled at James. “I have been standing outside for fifteen minutes.” She gestured at her shoes. “Do these heels look comfortable to you?”
    James didn’t know whether he was more surprised by her hostile tone or the fact that Milla’s sister wore black stiletto boots and was enveloped in what appeared to be a fox-hair fur coat. As she swiveled to bark orders at a pale, reed-thin young woman with slumped shoulders and white-blonde hair, James noticed a rather flattened fox head on Paulette’s left shoulder and a bushy tail draped across her right.
    “Willow!” Paulette shouted. “Get the luggage into this heap with wheels and let’s get going! The pollution from the jet fuel is going to clog my pores! My hair is already a wreck from standing out here. I hope no one of significance recognizes me!” And with that, the Diva of Dough wrenched open the Bronco’s rear door and settled herself inside.
    James turned to the young woman, his mouth agape. “Is she for real?”
    “’Fraid so. I’m Willow Singletary, Ms. Martine’s assistant.” She smiled weakly. “Don’t take her personally. She always gets strung out when she travels. She thinks New York City is the center of the world, and that the second she leaves it, she’ll be forced to live in a mud hut and scavenge for her own food.” She picked up two suitcases and shuffled toward the truck. With a lowered voice, she added, “She doesn’t get much better than this though. It’s why I go through two packs of cigarettes a day.”
    Relieved that there would be at least one friendly passenger in his truck, James helped Willow load the enormous suitcases into his Bronco. From her position in the back seat, Paulette directed the stacking of her luggage and then, apparently satisfied that everything had been stowed to her specifications, opened her cell phone and began to discuss future television show ideas with her producer. Her loud and animated chatter lasted for over an hour and a half. Unused to such a consistent barrage of noise, James stole glances at Paulette in the rearview mirror and longed to drown out her nasal voice with a dose of Clive Cussler.
    Eventually, James began to make quiet small-talk with Willow and learned that she had been Paulette’s assistant for the past three years and that her job requirements included, but were not limited to, seeing to the Diva’s travel arrangements, answering fan mail, editing her cookbooks, handling all the personal phone calls Paulette deemed unimportant, and fetching her non-fat, no foam vanilla lattes from Starbucks whenever the Diva required a caffeine fix.
    Willow leaned toward James and muttered softly, “Though these days she prefers the eggnog lattes. The Diva’s a total eggnog junkie.”
    “Wow,” James whispered and said a silent prayer of gratitude for the wonderful job he held. “I hope you get paid a lot for all you do.”
    “For being a slave, you mean?” Willow murmured lowly and then uttered a humorless laugh. “I haven’t had a raise since I started, but I’m planning to ask for one on this trip. After all, weddings are supposed to bring out the best in people.”
    James had no idea whether Willow was being sarcastic or not, but he didn’t have the opportunity to ask her as a few miles north of the town of Battle Creek, Paulette shoved her phone into a purse large enough to contain a small goat