CHAPTER NINE

The House of Janardi was one of the most iconic buildings in Manhattan with its beautiful gold and marbled finish surrounding a massive thirty-foot structure. Although HOJ: House of Janardi in semi-circled letterings were above the revolving doors of the building, only one word was at the very top for all the world to see. And that word was JANARDI. Nothing else. Up close, it was a dazzling display.

But Vivian couldn't find a parking spot anywhere near it. She had to park over six blocks away, and that was a lucky break to Vivian: all things considered. But Nayla was complaining that she was going to smell like the great outdoors by the time she made it inside, but there was nothing Vivian could do about that. They walked to the building and made their way inside the lobby, and then made their way over to the directory.

The first four floors of the building, according to the menu, contained the Janardi store. It was so high-end and exclusive that you couldn't enter it without a reservation. A reservation to buy clothes? That was insane to Vivian. But that, she guessed, was how rich people rolled. The fifth through the twenty-second floors were the design studios. They made the clothes, she knew, in the garment district. But she assumed they designed them on those floors? She wasn't sure. And it didn't matter. All the remaining floors, according to the directory, were offices.

But instead of attempting to find the ballroom where the casting call was slated to take place, Vivian made her way over to the Information desk. Nayla, thinking she was going to ask where the ballroom was located since neither one of them had ever been inside that building, followed her best friend.

But Vivian had more on her mind than some modeling job. "Hi," she said cheerfully to the desk clerk.

"Good afternoon. How may I help you?"

"Who do I talk to about a contract?"

"You're a vendor?"

She wasn't a vendor for them yet , but she was a vendor. "Yes."

Nayla looked at Vivian surprised. She knew it wasn't exactly a lie. They were vendors in the traditional sense of the word. But she also knew it wasn't exactly the truth either. They weren't a vendor at HOJ. It would be nothing for Nayla to tell that half-truth. But Vivian never did that before. But then again, Nayla thought, their business had never before been on the brink of such a total collapse if they didn't find more work to do either.

Besides, the young clerk didn't ask to clarify the distinction. "Are you a supplies service vendor, or a fashion service vendor?" he asked her.

Vivian wasn't sure which was which, but she knew she wasn't trying to sell any supplies. "Fashion service vendor," she said.

"Then you'll need to go to Claude Bash's office. His people will be able to assist you."

"Where is his office?"

"Top floor."

"Okay thank you," Vivian said.

"Where's the ballroom?" Nayla asked since Vivian didn't bother. "Which is the main reason we're here," she added, looking specifically at Viv.

"Go all the way to the back of this lobby, make a left, and go down a very long corridor. Then make a right. It'll be at the end of that hall."

"Thank you," Nayla said and the two friends moved away from the desk.

"I'll meet you there," said Vivian.

"Viv, don't embarrass yourself. These uber-rich white folks aren't about to give our next-to-nothing business any cleaning contract. Look at this place. You can't even find a footprint on these marbled floors. Just come to the cattle call with me and forget about that crazy idea of yours that people like us will ever get a break this big."

"I thought you were the one who said we should pursue our dreams."

"That business is not a dream. It's a nightmare. Let it be, Viv."

But Vivian wasn't losing her business without giving all she could give to keep it. "I'll meet you in the ballroom," she said, and headed for the elevators.

Nayla shook her head. It was so Vivian. And it was such a waste of time.

But she had bigger fish to fry than worrying about somebody else's antics. She hurried to the ballroom.