First Chapter

"Taxi, taxi!"  she yells as she skips toward the street, poketbook over her shoulder and her laptop case in hand.  "Sam, I'll call ya back, I gotta get this cab."  She presses end on her phone and then drops it into the opening of her pocket book.  "TAXI!" she screams at the many yellow objects coming her way.  

She needs to get to the other end of town for a meeting and at this time of the day, she's having no luck.  Every cab that darts by her is off duty with passengers in the backseat.  On her heels she spins, frustrated.  With a deep breath, she tries again, flailing her arms to get their attention.  "Taxi!"

It was only a few minutes until she was successful in getting her ride down to Chelsea.  She's thinking to herself that she wished she had driven herself into the city.  In the backseat of the plastic, bulletproof taxi cab she tells the driver to take her to her destination.  

She rests her head and closes her eyes, knowing that in just a matter of minutes she'll be where she needs to be.  She'll do her thing and then she's going home.  She's putting a period on the end of what she thinks is the longest of weeks in her history book.  

Hiking her bags over her shoulder, she exits the cab after paying her fare.  On the street she looks up the tall buildings that are surrounding her.  She never liked being in the city, the buildings are too tall.  They block out the sun.  The asphalt jungle isn't a jungle to her.  It's a metropolis of fast pace and faceless people.  She never thought that it was very inviting.  It's infectious, but it isn't very welcoming.  

"I love what you've done, Miss Anderson.  Your design shows great detail and originality - while keeping our design idea in mind." Chris Marshall tells her.  "I knew we made the right decision when we hired you, when can you get started?"  Chris Marshall, a New York tycoon that made his millions in oil is redecorating his Chelsea loft and commisioned Tate Anderson and her firm for the complete revamp of his New York City home.

Sitting down at the exceutive table, proud of herself and her firm, she smiles at Mr. Marshall and nods, "We can do the rest of the boards and I can have them messengered to you.  Once you approve them, we can start right away."

Chris Marshall slides his hand over the table, stopping on Tate's, "There's no need for that.  I love what I see and can only imagine what you have come up with will be perfect."

"Thank you." she blushes, sliding her hand away from him.  "Then I guess we can get going on Monday, will that work?"  she's secretly hoping that he doesn't want to start right away, right away.  She needs the weekend to prepare.  She needs the weekend to go home and reboot. 

Tate Anderson is an interior designer that finished design school at the top of her class.  A midwestern girl that moved to New York to attend NYU quickly made a name for herself even before she graduated.  She worked her way through NYU working at Macy's as a window designer.  Many of her designs were featured in the New York Times and in USA Today - because they were raw and edgy.  They weren't embraced at first, but as time went by customers and passerby's would walk by the windows just to see what else she came up with and just how far she could go.  They were often full of inuendo and erotica, many times crossing a line but however she came up with them, from wherever the idea lied within her, they worked.  That's how Chris Marshall came to know of her.  

"Monday will be fine."  Chris stands up, looking down at her, "I'll make sure that Marco gives you the access that you need.  You'll have the place to yourself for the next two weeks, will that be enough time?"

A little shocked by what he had just said, "Um, yeah.  That should be fine - but don't you want to be there for the process?"

"Do I need to be? I hired you based on your capability, and the fact that you don't need to be babysat, Tate." he tells her, quite firmly.  "I'm hiring you to do what you do, do I need to be here?"

She slightly shakes her head no as she stands, "No you don't need to be here, but I'm proposing a big change, you don't want to be here to oversee the project?"

"That's what I hired you for.  That's what I'm paying you a million dollars for, your expertise and your discretion."

"Mr. Marshall, I have proposed a total overhaul of your home."

"I'm aware."

"Do you or Mrs. Marshall want to approve color and patterns?" she softly questions.

"That again, is your job." he states, leaving no more room for discussion.  "you make my home look like you have portrayed in your design boards and there won't be an issue.  Are we clear?"

"Yes sir." she replies, gathering her things, feeling as if the meeting was over.  "I'll have it done in two weeks.  Would you like me to call you when it's finished?"

"That won't be necessary.  We are vactioning in Italy for the next two weeks, I just ask that it's done and you and all of your things are gone when I return."  he adds, walking back toward her.  He stops next to her, "this is all to be done with the utmost discretion as my wife knows nothing about it."

"I understand." she gives him a half smile, sliding her Apple into her bag.  "I'll be done and out of here before you return."

Chris Marshall reaches into his inside breast pocket and hands Tate a check, made out to her for the amount of 2 million dollars.  "I think this will be enough for the job, yeah?" 

Her hands are shaking as she reads the amount on the check, quickly she does the math in her head and agrees, "Yes, this is more than enough."

"Very well then.  I'll touch base when I get back."

She takes her bags off the table, extends her hand.  As they shake hands, acknowledging that they are now in business together, Tate says, "have a safe trip Mr. Marshall.  I look forawrd to hearing from you when you get back."

"Thank you Miss Anderson, I have the utmost faith in your ability.  It's a pleasure doing business with you."

Tate Anderson takes her leave.  Once she's outside the apartment, away from his watchful eye, she lets out a deep sigh.  To herself she says, you fucking nailed it.  Her first professional gig.

Once she makes it through the circle doorway she steps out onto the street and pauses.  In her mind, her thoughts are traveling faster than the faceless people and the numerous cars that are passing her as she stands there.  In the way, of those walking by.  She didn't care.  She just sealed her future and she did it in under 15 minutes.  In her pocket book there is a check for 2 million dollars, she is well on her way to her future that is super bright and brand new.