Chapter 1 #2
What must it be like to be one of the richest social media stars of your generation? That was something Hannah would never know – and that was fine with her really. In her line of work, she routinely dealt with the top of the elite mountain – the one per cent’s one per cent.
While many of the younger so-called tastemakers she’d worked with back on the West Coast – mostly bored rich kids – were narcissistic, demanding and completely out of touch with the rest of the world (‘away with the fairies’, as the Irish expression went), Courtney Wilde was a surprising exception to the rule.
The twenty-three-year-old millionaire had become a voice and role model for millions of young women around the world, with a successful online platform that combined her passions for fashion and finance.
While the majority of retail and lifestyle influencers typically sought out IV lines direct to followers’ pockets to enrich themselves, Courtney Wilde conversely used hers to empower her audience with knowledge and wisdom about money and financial independence.
Her mission to help younger women become financially literate and learn how to pay for their purchases through careful savings and clever investments instead of becoming slaves to credit was a powerful one that was both fashion-forward and financial-savvy.
Dior or Front Door? (blow money on designer stuff or use it to buy your own home) was the catchphrase that had captured the imagination and gone viral, thrusting Courtney’s atypical fusion of fashion and finance into the spotlight.
And one which the young lady had utilised herself, with spectacular results, since this gorgeous penthouse was merely one element of a significant property portfolio.
Hannah wished someone like Courtney had been around when she was that age, particularly in her younger years growing up as a bookish, painfully-shy teenager in the rural Limerick village from which she hailed.
A small farming community that offered few opportunities for glamour or social variety, about the only adolescent role models she had back then were gleaned from books and TV, and much of her life advice via Jean Luc Picard in Star Trek TNG.
Make it so …
She chuckled. Truly a galaxy apart from the largely confident go-getting youth of today.
Even possessing a smidgen of that kind of moxie could’ve meant that Hannah might also have been much better placed to take control of her situation after everything imploded in LA. Her ex, Rob, remained in the Brentwood walk-up he owned, rendering her homeless practically overnight.
So she was doubly grateful for the opportunity to get a true taste of the good life, temporarily at least.There was only one minor wrinkle in the entire situation – the neighbours’ issue mentioned in the welcome note.
Hannah learned from Courtney’s assistant Sara that a group of residents in the building had lodged a lawsuit against the co-op board for allowing the influencer to buy into it.
When word initially got out that she had made an application, apparently the cantankerous old guy living in the adjoining penthouse had insisted that they couldn’t allow some ‘attention-seeking airhead’ to upset the social dynamics in the building.
But evidently the group’s wish to have Courtney’s bid denied was refused.
As were their subsequent submissions about construction noise, odours from the fresh paint or insistence that the planned renovations would not only go against the architectural integrity of the landmark building but structural too, and they were all going to die when it caved in around them.
Hannah knew that such co-op disputes could be the stuff of legend in NYC, with residents routinely fighting board members and each other for myriad reasons (ironically the very opposite of co-operative), and she could well imagine why the arrival of a millionairess bright young thing into the prestigious building might put much older and well-heeled noses out of joint.
Sara had quickly brushed away Hannah’s initial concerns by assuring her that the matter was now in the hands of the legal eagles, and there was nothing to fear from any personal encounters.
But maybe once the neighbours met Courtney in person, she’d disarm and charm them too?
Well, they certainly had nothing to fear from introverted Hannah anyway.
No wild parties or noise of any kind – she wasn’t even the singing-in-the-shower type.
Nope, while she was here, she just planned to lay low, pick up the pieces of her life, and most importantly, she mused, gazing out at that picture-perfect Central Park view, make the most of the incredible gift she’d been given in one of the greatest cities on earth.
As she stood by the window, watching the light slowly fade over the park and cityscape beyond, Hannah felt optimistic for the first time in months.
She’d been in Los Angeles for so long that she’d almost forgotten the exhilaration Manhattan could evoke, and was appreciative of the opportunity to experience it anew from such an incredible vantage point.
Opening the sash window a little, even fifteen floors up the air was suddenly filled with familiar sounds of the city – honking horns, laughter against the murmur of traffic and a million conversations – and, at that moment, Hannah felt a profound reconnection with the place she’d once called home.This very same vibrant energy had once helped her shake off those youthful small-town inhibitions and encouraged her out of her shell to become the mature, self-assured person she was now.
She felt a lump in her throat. Or used to be.
With luck, NewYork would work that same magic for her again.
She had been away from the city for so long and yet it still felt like no time had passed. Her instincts were correct to leave LA. She had come to the right place to lick her wounds, heal her heart, and she was more than ready to start a new life in the city that never sleeps.
Heading back out to the foyer to collect her bags from where she’d dropped them in awe on arrival, Hannah noticed that something had since been slipped under the door. A piece of paper and a handwritten note:
P-2,
I’m still getting your stupid ‘fan mail’ shoved in my box downstairs.
I know this might come as a surprise to someone who lives in their own perfect Barbie bubble, but there are two penthouses up here.
I’ve been marking it as Return to Sender, but soon I’m just gonna start shredding.
So tell your herd of bazillion idiot sheep to stop sneaking their crap into the lobby. Or even better, tell ’em to go to hell.
P-1
Hannah’s eyes widened. So much for nothing to fear from the neighbours. Seemed they were still engaged in active battle.