Number two in a series of beginnings of short stories/novels that may never actually be written.:
Having had initial success with her line of hand care products, Monique thought it was time to expand distribution of the creams, gels, gloves, press-on nails, manicure sets, and spa-gloves beyond the initial deal she had signed with QVC. Monique saw her line comfortably presented inside the glass cases in the basement of Bergdorf Goodman, next to imported lines of cosmetics. Bloomingdales or Saks just seemed to not be exclusive enough and she honestly wasn’t sure of how to handle the financials of expanding production to that degree.
So it wasn’t just a bit of trepidation that she found herself sitting across a conference room table from Angela Masberg and her team from the cosmetics buying office of Macy’s. Masberg had the look of one of those women that starts in retail just out of college and stays with it just out of spite. Her tight lips looked as if a million harsh words had passed through them. The huge rock on her hand screamed of frigidity. Her eyes had the dull tenacity of a workmule, and with every glance the women shared, Monique was sure that somehow Masberg was imparting cancerous cells over to her.
