Map to the Stars Read Online Free Page A

side of Madison Avenue, but the view from Graham Cabot’s suite on the twelfth floor, where Mom and I were setting up a makeup bonanza, was an entirely different story (no pun intended).
    Perfectly framed in the center of the bedroom’s arched window was the Empire State Building in all her gleaming glory. If it was possible to be smitten with a hunk of metal, I was totally there.
    â€œHey, are you going to earn your keep on this trip or what? Quit it with the googly eyes and grab me that bottle of hair gel, would you please?” Mom’s voice cut through my reverie.
    Turning my back on the postcard view, I squeezed through the pocket doors separating the bedroom from the living space and trudged over to the glass dining room table that Mom had commandeered as her workspace. Yes, dining room table. In a hotel room.
    â€œJust give me a hand here,” Mom said. “This is the first chance I’ve had to unpack this stuff and I want to make sure it all got here in one piece, so I can get it organized and at least mostly packed back up before Graham arrives. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate us taking over all his space.”
    I glanced around a room that would likely echo several times over. “Um, I think he could probably find somewhere to squeeze in.”
    â€œNot the point. After the whole incident with Billy Glick, the last thing I want to do is start off on the wrong foot. I want to be as professional as possible.”
    â€œPrick,” I mumbled.
    â€œExcuse me, young lady?”
    â€œOh, I was just saying Billy ‘Prick,’ not Billy Glick. It’s my new pet name for him.”
    Mom gave an appreciative smile as she stacked eye shadows into a small tower, then dove back into her bag. “Oh hells bells!” she exclaimed, with her arm elbow deep.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    â€œOne of the foundation jars cracked and the whole bottom of this bag and all the makeup brushes in it are covered in beige goop. Shit!”
    â€œMom, relax. We’re in New York City. We’ve seen more Duane Reade drugstores than yellow taxicabs.”
    â€œYes, but these are professional makeup brushes. I won’t be able to find anything like them at a corner pharmacy.”
    Oh. Just another reason why there were likely about eleventy billion people on the planet more qualified to be an assistant makeup artist than someone like me.
    Only in Hollywood can you get paid a salary and sent on a European adventure to NOT work. That said, I wanted to help my mom just because she was my mom and I hated seeing her stressed like this. God knows she’s had enough of that already this year.
    â€œOkay, okay. But all those runway models have to shop for beauty supplies somewhere, don’t they?” I asked.
    Mom took a deep breath and exhaled. “You’re right. I’m just so nervous I can’t think straight. I’m going to call the front desk.”
    A few minutes later she had a pad of paper covered in scribbles. “Okay, the concierge gave me a bunch of addresses for supply stores and there’s one that’s in the Garment District, not all that far fromhere. Graham’s schedule doesn’t show his plane landing for another three hours, so we have some time. Damn, but one of us should stay here and get this stuff in order. Do you mind?”
    I didn’t mind, though I wondered how Mom was going to handle the big city on her own. Our drive out west was the only time either of us had ever had a need for our phones’ GPS, and we hadn’t exactly mastered the NYC subway during our sightseeing ventures. But at the moment she was all hectic energy and didn’t seem concerned about it. She bustled around the room, grabbing at bags and peeking inside for damage.
    â€œI really have to figure out some other carry-on options so I don’t have to check this stuff next time.”
    I shrugged. “Aren’t we flying to London with