"Suddenly I See"

Jenna Mitchell paused and stared at her boss blankly. His timing was never perfect and his opinions hardly mattered to her, but, to the greater New York area, he was the king of all kings. The notorious editor of of the New York Pillar and the mastermind behind her columns. His wit and intelligence astounded all those around him, except for Jenna. Jenna knew better. Jenna was better.

"No, Michael," she stated, grabbing her things off her desk and shoving them into her extremely expensive Balenciaga tote.

He pressed the subject even further. "Just change the article and I can print it as soon as tomorrow. The last sentence is too intense - it's too serious," he explained.

"You mean it's too truthful," she corrected him, skimming through her Blackberry. She ignored all the text messages from Antonio and proceeded to walk out of her lavish office - which took three awards and seven nominations to acquire.

"Jenna!" he yelled after her. "Jen! Get back here! Change that article or it's not going to be printed!" he threatened, watching as she sashayed through the cubicles. The other employees looked up, not surprised, and continued eavesdropped on the argument.

Jenna turned around and snapped back, "Don't print it, then! Let's see the drop in readers as soon as my column space is empty."

Michael halted.

Jenna raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

Taking a deep, bitter breath, Michael looked the beautiful top floor of his building and saw the expectant faces of his writers. He rolled his eyes and said quietly, "Fine. It'll print tomorrow."

Jenna smirked in triumph. "Goody," she said loudly, smiling at her co-workers. She spotted Tara, another writer vying for her column, and Jenna yelled, a little too proudly, "How's your piece about that dog that does that hula hoop trick?"

"Sweety, these eggs don't look safe," Antonio observed, stabbing the really gooey middle with his fork. "I'm pretty sure these babies aren't even cooked."

Jenna practically flew into the kitchen, hair a mess and clothing in disarray. "Then why the hell did you ask me to cook? I'm already late for that stupid meeting at Mod and then I have to pick up Rebecca from preschool." She watched as Antonio threw the eggs into the garbage. "Damn it, Ant, that was the last of our eggs! We could barely pay the rent and you're throwing away perfectly good food? Stop being such a dick."

He glared at her. "I'm not being a dick. You're being a bitch. We could barely pay the rent because of your disgusting shopping habits. Is that a new bag?" he asked, pointing to her pristine Betsy Johnson shoulder bag.

Jenna looked away and answered, "No."

"Yes, it is! That's a new Betsy!" he accused, grabbing her by the elbow. He smacked her across the face with the dirty, oily spatula. "Quit being a priss, Paris Hilton."

Jenna held a hand to her heart. "That was mean, Antonio. I don't appreciate that at all."

He wiped the oil off her face with a clean towel and pushed her out of the kitchen. "Go to your meeting and wow those bitches at Mod, okay?"

"Oh, I'll try," Jenna said, slipping on her leather jacket. "Their new editor is terrifying. She has this one metal tooth that you can see when she smiles." Jenna shuddered. "It's fucking insane."

"Oh, wait!" Antonio rushed out of the living room and came back with an extravagantly wrapped gift. "Give this to Rebecca. It's her fourth birthday, right?"

"Ugh, that's right! I suck at this birthday thing." She stuffed the gift into her purse. "I also suck at this nanny thing."

He rolled his eyes and affectionately picked out a piece of egg from her dark, curly hair. "You're a wonderful nanny. And you make about twenty an hour, so you need the job. At least you're not the neighborhood dog walker that gets stuck with Sam the pooping Mastiff."

"Oh, Sam is so cute!" Jenna gushed, smiling idiotically.

Antonio shook his head, opened the door, and shoved her out. "Text me when you get there and when you're headed home! Love you!"

"Yeah, you, too, asshole," she muttered, racing down the stairs.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Jenna asked, eying the distasteful valet parker as he smirked at her.

"I'm David," he said, a little too happy. His hand popped out of nowhere and shook hers.

Jenna wasn't impressed. "Right," she mumbled. "I don't have a car. If you hadn't notice, we're in the heart of New York right now." She walked away, juggling her portfolio as well as her three bags. She stopped before a door and growled. "Fuck."

"Need any help?" the valet asked from behind her.

Jenna snorted and turned. "I'm fine, there, Donny."

"It's David," he corrected, irritated.

Jenna could care less. She balanced herself on one foot and stuck the other one out to somehow open the door. Her attempts resulted in absolute stupidity and embarrassment.

"Jenna!" snapped an irate voice from behind her.

Surprised, Jenna yelped and spun around, effectively hitting her soon-to-be boss in the face. She froze in shock.

Sierra fell back into her three horrified assistants, who all dropped their cappuccinos to catch her.

Jenna spotted that Donny or Derek, or whatever his name was, snickering at her in the background. She growled to herself. She wished she had a car to run him over with.

Sierra composed herself and took off her very chic Marc Jacobs sunglasses. Jenna found herself envying the shades. "Now that you're done attacking me .." she drawled, snapping her fingers. Her first assistant handed her a leather pad and Sierra flipped through it.

Jenna swallowed, unsure of what to do next.

Sierra looked up from her pad. "Are you ready for your presentation?"

"Yes. I'm a little nervous, though." She laughed half-heartedly. Sierra just stared. "I mean, I am ready. I'm so ready. I'll totally blow their panties off."

"Bottomless clients? Interesting." Sierra pushed Jenna aside and snapped her fingers once more. Her second assistant jumped from behind her and opened the door. "I hope you remembered to present that new article we discussed."

All the color drained from Jenna's face. "New article?"