I glance at my watch and then back to the three pages of makeup tips I’ve acquired over the last two hours. It’s 6:58 p.m. Emmy’s momager has been on her phone in the War History section for the past forty-three minutes. I’ve developed a nervous twitch, which may or may not be due to ridiculously high amounts of caffeine consumption.

“Can you recommend me a good palette? And, like, what’s your favorite foundation blending technique? Because, like, whenever I use a stippling brush it looks cakey, but like, I watched this video on beauty blenders and they’re, like, really unhygienic.”

My watch ticks to 7:03 p.m. and I get out of my chair. I’m not supposed to leave the talent unattended, but the most controversial question that had been asked tonight was which One Direction member she preferred, which sparked a heated debate that I wasn’t prepared to referee. I figure Emmy will be fine on her own for a few minutes.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Raynard?”

Elizabeth Raynard is leaning against a shelf of World War II books and she waves me off with the back of her hand.

“Like I was saying,” she cackles. “They tried to put me in business class. Like, hello! Do you know who I am?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Raynard?”

Her eyes narrow like daggers to mine. Her glare sends a chill through me. “I’m on the phone.”

“I know,” I say. “But Asher told you I have to leave by seven.”

“He told me no such thing.”

I wrote the email.

“I’m sorry that he didn’t make it clear,” I start, “but I have a prior engagement that requires me to leave now.”

“And what do you suggest I do with this room full of bumbling tweens?”

“They’re asking harmless questions. I haven’t had to divert any topics. The store manager says the curfew is eight, so it won’t go much longer.”

“That’s an hour away,” she huffs into her phone. “Kathy, I’ll have to call you back… I know… It’s ridiculous. I’m arguing with some airhead of an intern.”

I glance at my feet. “I’m really sorry about this—”

“I’m not paying Asher to work ninety percent of the time.” She steps closer to me, her lanky figure looming over mine. It’s hard not to be intimidated by a woman who carries five phones and is ten inches taller than me. “If this sort of behavior continues, I’ll consider finding more professional representation.”

“It won’t happen again,” I say. “I can assure you that, Mrs. Raynard.”

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep,” she snarls. “I’ll be speaking to Asher about this.”