Even though Mac’s suggestion of bath, nap and room service sounded divine—though in her own hotel room—Trixie was far too adrenalized for that. Instead she wandered the streets of midtown Manhattan, taking photos of towering office buildings and fabulous streetwear outfits.
It felt good to work off the energy pouring through her after that interview and the confrontation with Mac afterwards. Every time she thought about the fact that he’d been approached to spy on her and had never told her, new fury filled her. Was she a child who couldn’t be trusted? Or did he see her as some fluffy little kitten type who did nothing but joke around and didn’t deserve to know something so important?
Her phone had died during the interview, but she didn’t stop to charge it. It was a relief to be out of
