Blair answered； keeping her eyes glued to the door。
All week long her mind had been on one thing only： her interview with Owen Wells。 She had
even done some research on the Internet so she could ask him pointed questions about Wells；
Trachtman； & Rice； the law firm where he was a partner。 Now it was finally Thursday night and
she was sitting alone at the corner table in Leneman？s Bar in the pton Hotel； waiting for him。
The bar was crowded； mostly with middle…aged men in custom…tailored suits； discussing business
deals over bourbon on the rocks； or sitting with bleached…blond women who were very definitely
not their wives。 With its golden walls； crisp white tablecloths； and forties jazz music； the bar had
an air of sexy sophistication。
Blair had spent almost three hours getting ready： one to shower and blow her hair out into a neat；
preppy coif that framed her face in an innocent yet intellectual manner； one to dress in her new
belted Les Best jersey dress； which she had paired with her lucky pair of three…inch Ferragamo
heels； to give her an extra bit of confidence and height； and one to apply natural…looking makeup
for the fresh； healthy glow of someone who always got twelve hours of sleep because she never
went out and never went near a cigarette or a cocktail。
Right。
It was still only a quarter to nine； but if she drank any more Coke； she？d have to pee so badly
she？d never make it through the interview without wetting herself。 What Blair really wanted was a
shot of Stoli； but with her luck Owen Wells would stroll through the door just as she was knocking
back the shot； confirming his worries that she really was just a flaky party girl w