Chapter One

“This campaign is about more than just fragrance,” Nancy said, her voice steady, smooth. “It’s about creating an aura. Something intangible, but irresistible. We’re selling more than a product; we’re selling a lifestyle. Sex. Power. Desire.”

She paused for effect, letting the words linger in the air. The room was dead silent, save for the soft click of a pen against the conference table. She could feel the weight of their attention, the clients at the table hanging on her every word.

Her pitch was tight, well-rehearsed, and she could tell they were buying it. Their eyes were wide, nodding along.

Nancy Thompson stood at the front of the sleek conference room, her stiletto heels clicking confidently on the polished hardwood floor. She’d done this a hundred times before. Standing in front of a group of investors and CEO’s. An old white man with very little hair, and far more belly than his shirt could hold. A young CEO that definitely gave nepo-baby vibes, but they seemed to know what they were doing. This one was androgynous, had mocha skin, sleek hair, and an open leopard print shirt that they'd tucked stylishly into black leather pants, all while sporting the whitest teeth Nancy had ever seen in person.

She glanced at the screen behind her. A slideshow flickered to life, showcasing the new ad campaign she’d been spearheading for the past six weeks. A luxury perfume that cost more than most people’s monthly rent, potentially being endorsed by one of the hottest names in Hollywood. Mock-ups flashed across the screen, draped in silk, looking more like a walking fantasy than a person.

“Now, imagine this scene: the celebrity in question, poised, sensual, but not overdone. We’ll weave in some seductive elements—understatement is key. A glance, a touch, the suggestion of something deeper. You don’t need to show it all to make it unforgettable.”

Nancy clicked through a few more slides, her mind already ten steps ahead. She could already hear the approval, see the dollar signs in their eyes. It was another win for her.

“Perfect,” the older investor finally said, leaning forward, clearly impressed. “We’re in. Let’s move forward.”

A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of Nancy’s lips. The meeting wrapped up quickly after that, and as the clients filed out, Nancy stood still for a moment, letting the adrenaline wash over her. Another success. Another ad campaign that would make waves.

Her assistant, Mark, hurried into the room just as she was collecting her things. He was a whirlwind of motion, his tablet haphazardly clutched under his arm to his rib as he juggled a stack of mail, two coffees, and croissants. He reminded her of a young Matthew Perry at the height of his Friends career.

“Great presentation, Nancy,” he said, breathlessly. “You’ve got another meeting in twenty minutes, then a call with the social media team, and—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” she said, cutting him off with a wink. “I’m on it.”

He handed her a croissant and a fresh coffee, and she accepted both without much thought, already mentally moving on to the next task. Marketing never slowed down. She took a sip of her coffee and walked back to her office, the buzz of the campaign still humming in her chest.

Nancy’s office was large with windows from floor to ceiling that framed the city below. The soft hum of the city was a constant reminder of how far she’d come—how much she’d achieved. She dropped her bag onto the desk and slid into her chair, taking a bite of the croissant as she booted up her laptop.

She liked moments like this—after the adrenaline had passed, when she could breathe and take stock. She thought about the campaign again. The way she’d presented it, the words she’d chosen, how she’d been able to convince them with just a few well-placed sentences.

She was good at this.

As she flipped through emails and responded to a few quick ones, she couldn’t help but think about how everything in her life was so… businesslike. Efficient. Organized. Nothing wrong with that, of course. She was good at it. But sometimes, when she’d get home to her spotless condo and sink into the couch with a pint of ice cream, she’d sigh and feel the familiar tinge of loneliness. She shook her head and once again convinced herself that alone was better.

The thought was fleeting. She didn’t have time for doubt. Not today.

A few hours later, Nancy found herself in the elevator of her building, heading up to her condo. The doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and she stepped into the familiar, comfortable space. The condo was hers, bought with her own money, and she was proud of that. But there was something about the silence of the place that made her feel… lonely again.

She set her work bag on an end table that she kept near the door and sifted through some mail. Nothing important caught her eye, so she meandered to her bedroom where she kicked off her heels, took off her fancy work clothes and replaced them with an old sweatshirt that she’d stolen from her dad that had “Dolphins” stamped on the front, and very loved frumpy sweatpants. She let her hair down from its tight bun. It can be a handful on windy days, but she likes to wear it down most of the time. A shoulder length curly brown mess with a couple magenta streaks thrown in for fun.

She walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a spoon. The pint of ice cream, sea salted caramel, was the kind of indulgence she didn’t let herself have every night, but today felt like a treat. She sank into the couch, pulled a blanket around her, and flicked on the TV. She picked her favorite streaming service, chose her show and pressed play.

As if on cue, one of her latest ads flashed across the screen, a luxury jewelry commercial she’d helped create. An exceptionally beautiful model stared into the camera, alluring and confident, and Nancy couldn’t help but smile a little.

It was funny. She could sell love, lust, and desire all day long. But when it came to her own life, she couldn’t seem to make any of it stick.

The ad played through, and Nancy’s thoughts wandered. She thought about her last relationship—a man who seemed perfect on paper. Smart, ambitious, charming. But there was something about the way he looked at her, like he wanted her to be something she wasn’t. He wanted her to be what she marketed. Sexy.

At the end of the day, what was sexy? Exchanged acting glances, poses, and let’s face it, a certain type of figure. She had hips. She had an ass. She had the rolls that formed above a woman’s belly on her ribs. She was not obese by any means, but she ate burgers when she wanted to. Selling models is easy. Heroin chic sells itself honestly, even in today’s body positivity era.

With a sigh, Nancy picked up her spoon, digging into the ice cream, and tried to push the thoughts out of her mind.

Perhaps tomorrow would be different. Maybe she’d stop feeling like the person everyone saw was just a role she played well. Or maybe, she just needed a dog.

For now, though, she had her couch, she had her soft blanket. She even had her very guilty pleasure squishy pillow cat doll. She had herself.

The familiar droning of her favorite reality TV show theme finished playing and she let go of her reality, substituting it for the carefully constructed one on the screen.