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9780767924863
1 "I love you for listening!" Ritz signed off the air as she did every evening. She quickly scooped up the papers she had scattered on the desk in front of her and stuffed them into her white crocodile Gucci bag. "Um, Ritz, you have a couple of faxes here that I think you should look at," said Jamie, nervously handing the papers over to Ritz. Jamie was the newest intern in a string to work on theRitz Harper Excursion--one of the most popular radio shows in the country, syndicated from flagship station WHOT in New York City. Jamie had outlasted the ten before her by a month and counting. "Do you want me to pick up your clothes from the cleaners?" she asked. "Thanks, I'll get them myself. I have some time to kill and the fresh air will do me some good. Chas, are you coming?" "Uh-uh. I have to clean up some of the mess you made today, Miss Thing," he said with his usual hint of attitude and humor. "But wait up, I'll walk you downstairs." Jamie left to prepare for the next day's show. Chas grabbed his mink-lined shearling and Ritz slung her white fur over her slim frame. Winter white, head to toe. It was a typical Ritz outfit. If she didn't have a fly fur or some other extravagant accessory, she simply was not dressed. She and Chas waited at the bank of elevators and rode the thirty-nine floors down to the lobby without stopping, like an express train. At this time of night, there were very few people left in the building. At the lobby level, Ritz let her four-inch Jimmy Choos clop on the marble floor. She loved the sound heels made on marble, like a regal Clydesdale on a cobblestone road. She also loved the way stylish heels made her feel. Ritz, who had big doe eyes, dark sumptuous Godiva chocolate skin, a chiseled jaw, and Robin Givens-esque dimples, didn't always look or feel stylish. She just started wearing heels regularly a few years back--thanks to Chas--but had mastered them to the point where she could practically run a forty-yard dash in anything under five inches. "So what do you and Tray-Tray have planned for tonight?" Chas asked. "Nothing special, just some girl talk," Ritz said. "We have a lot of catching up to do. It's been almost a year." "I know! Homegirl just packed up and never looked back," Chas said. "I miss her. She would have enjoyed the past few months of this ride, chile." "I know. I know," Ritz said. "I'm just glad she's here for the next event. I'm a little nervous about my first real television gig. With her behind-the-scenes knowledge, she'll be a huge help." "Don't worry about a thing, Ritzy! Papa Chas has it all worked out," he said, glancing at his watch as Ritz headed for the revolving doors. Chas, whose given name was Charles Bradley and would never be known as Chuck or Charlie, always took care of things for Ritz. "Give Tracee a huge sloppy kiss for me on the lips!" Ritz shot Chas a look. "Now you went too far with that one." "Can't blame a brother for trying!" he said and playfully pushed her toward the door. "Bye! I'll call you later." "Be safe, sweetie." THIRTY-SIXTH STREET AND MADISON AVENUE, MANHATTAN Ritz Harper checked her frosty Franck Muller watch. It was eight minutes past seven. She had some time to kill before picking up her best friend, Tracee, at the airport. It was a crisp thirty degrees. Ritz loved the winter because it gave her a chance to luxuriate in the many kinds of furs--from chinchilla to mink, fox to ermine. She decided to take the scenic route to her car and stop by the cleaners before heading to Newark Airport. By then, rush-hour traffic through Midtown and along the New JHunter, Karen is the author of 'Drama Is Her Middle Name ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780767924863 and ISBN 076792486X.
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