“Of course.” Kiki eyed her as though witnessing an accident.
Taddy had created a security folder on her penthouse including floor plans and alarm codes, with a detailed sheet listing her butlers, maids, chefs, massage therapists, Shih Tzu’s names, etcetera. She handed the papers over to Kiki. “In the file, you’ll find keys to my penthouse on Park Avenue and Seventy-First Street. I want you to lay out my belts, bags, what have you. Take photos from YSL to Balenciaga and Oscar—everything, got it?”
“Miss Brill, umm…could we go over to your penthouse together?”
Shaking her head, perplexed, she said, “I don’t follow.”
“You’ll pull your accessories. I’ll snap photos.” Kiki withdrew her mobile tablet from her folder and showed Taddy a website where she sold her used clothing and other misfortunes. “My roommates and I resell on eBought.”
To Taddy, eBought looked like a virtual lost and found for damaged and returned garments and accessories no one wanted. Careful not to hurt her feelings, Taddy smiled at her assistant. The painkillers Kiki popped post-breast surgery made her more sensitive than usual. “I’m going to assume I have a few more frills than you do.”
“How many are we talking about?”
She traced back her assistants over the years. Kiki turned out to be her thirtieth, or was it her fortieth? “You’ve worked here since December, correct?”
Kiki nodded. “Yes.”
“Have you ever seen me carry or wear the same thing twice?” She didn’t understand how she managed.
“No ma’am.” Kiki’s jaw tensed with apparent nervousness.
“This lil’ project is going to take you a week—easy breezy.” She dusted her hands, ready to move on with her day.
“I’m nervous to be alone in your penthouse.” Biting her lip, Kiki glanced down at her notepad.
Again, Taddy smiled to reassure her assistant. Office chitchat circulated over the years with the goings-on at Taddy’s penthouse. Her staff had seen the photos in Page Six. They talked about everything, from random photos taken of celebrities riding horses naked in her ballroom during her Arabian Nights Party to women being hospitalized for a diamond-encrusted buttercream-frosted cake fight at her Candy Land Ball.
The brawl had started at the dessert table when LaRosa Badminton who was visiting from Dubai noticed Birdie had been accompanied by her new friend, Charmaine Whitedove. Dressed in Eskandar, Charmaine was one of the top mediums in the world. Charmaine shook LaRosa’s hand and immediately had a premonition. Her spirits told her that LaRosa had an affair with Birdie’s husband Eddie when he was on tour in the Middle East. This usually wasn’t a biggie for Birdie. But when Charmaine insisted LaRosa had a child with Eddie, Birdie lost it.
No questions asked, Birdie punched LaRosa in the face. When LaRosa fell back on the nine-tiered cake created by Sylvia Weinstock, she took Birdie and Charmaine down with her. The fight was caught on video and had become a viral sensation.
Taddy’s A-list affairs ranged anywhere from a bestie handful to well over four hundred Manhattanites. She staffed a separate team to create and execute each soirée. Admission tickets ranged from one thousand dollars to stand and drink to ten grand for a table to sit and play. The money raised went to her favorite charities, but she always kept a tight lip over them. Being public about her good deeds felt tacky.
Her penthouse remained an infamous mystery. Although it was tempting to boost socialite credibility, Brill girls avoided her entire city block at all costs, stating they valued their life more than climbing any social ladder.
“My butler works around the clock if you need anything.”
“Ooh.”
“Plus your coworkers joked with you when blabbing about the torture chamber behind my shoe closet.” In fact, the hidden space existed as a sex dungeon. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to scare her poor virgin away by telling her about the hardcore BDSM contraptions that furnished the room. Kiki was the best assistant she’d hired since opening her agency. She did however want to entice Kiki just a little to talk about sex in hopes she’d loosen up a bit.
“Joking, really?” Kiki’s eyes widened with hope.
“Yes, darling. It’s not a torture chamber. It’s my pleasure room.” Yes, that’s how she’d phrase it to her. Fighting a migraine, she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out her four p.m. green happiness bottle, Excedrin.
“Women get into such—things?” Kiki asked without a judgmental bone in her petite body.
“Ladies may not admit this, but they do.” She cracked open the Coke Zero on her desk, popped two white tablets in her mouth and swigged. Aah. Kiki is driving me loopy. Please, God, give me strength. Give me one flippin’ day off. Just one. That’s all I ask for. Didn’t you rest on Sunday?
“Such as?” Kiki sat back in her chair, making herself more comfortable.
“My love for porn as an example,” Taddy blurted it out without realizing her audience. It had been ages since she’d turned on her TV, but goodness, how she enjoyed a raunchy DILF video now and again.
Eyes wide, Kiki requested, “May I get personal with you for a minute?”
Taddy nodded. This better be good.
“I’ve never seen an X-rated video.”
“Get the Hail Mary outta here.”
“Pornography is prohibited by our church.”
“So…if you watch a dirty film, will a Mormon van pick your virgin butt up and haul you away to an LDS mission?
“No! Miss Brill. You’re funny.” Kiki laughed then lowered her voice. “What male porn stars do you watch?”
Without giving it a second thought, she answered, “Manuel Coq de la Grande, he’s beefy and goes at it. You will too when you see him.”
Kiki gripped her pen, jotting the porn star suggestion down.
Hmmmm.
“How does Mr. Coq de la Grande do it for you?”
“Keep in mind I’ve never even met Manuel let alone slept with him, but I have watched every movie he’s ever done.” Again, she reached for her Coke Zero. “Manuel has girth.” She took another sip and continued, “I assume Manuel is like this tin can here. I can’t get my hands all the way around, let alone have such width rammed in my mouth, shoved up my rear or screwing my privates.”