Part 11 (1/2)
”Honestly, Ms. Schmiller-”
”Ivanah's fine.”
”Ivanah. With what you said last night being true, and Thomasina dying at our show, well, I mean the news people are accosting me everywhere I turn, and the cops are scrutinizing everything. I think we're finished here anyway.”
Pierre took in a heavy breath. ”Of course, you mean...”
Laura shot him a look that shut him up immediately.
Ivanah's gaze did not leave Laura. ”You're worried about the police and the newspapers?”
”I'm not worried,” Laura said. ”'Worried' means I'm wasting my time concerning myself with things I can't predict. In fact, the police dusted down my sister's apartment, and mine is probably next. So I can predict pretty well that something smelly is. .h.i.tting the fan, which means we're not going to have time to give this the attention it needs. And I know Akiko Kamichura's doing a story throwing accusations at us. I just don't have the resources or the time to fight this and still run a business. So, can you tell Bob I'm sorry we wasted his money? I feel terrible about that.”
Ivanah waved her hand as if at a pesky gnat in the room. ”My husband doesn't know how to waste money. His losses make profits. It's a sickness.” She seemed both truly annoyed and truly proud.
Laura held her breath, then held out her hand. ”I'm so sorry, anyway. It's been nice working with you, but we're closed for business.”
As if blown in by a surprisingly strong wind, Jeremy walked in with a fur swatch in his hand. He looked surprised to see Ivanah there. ”Ivanah! Incredible. I was just thinking about you.”
During the fake hugs and air kisses, Laura realized what Pierre had been texting and to whom. When she looked up at him, he winked.
”Can you believe the quality these girls got into their line?” Jeremy asked. ”This fabric...” He pulled down the magenta wool crepe. ”Hundred fifty a yard and dyed in North Carolina because the flower that makes this color only grows in this one Appalachian valley. Feel it.”
”The color is lovely, but-”
Jeremy cut her off. ”I can't believe it.” He pulled the leather bomber out of the pile. He chuckled in a way that sounded real, but Laura knew was put on. Jeremy didn't laugh that way. ”I was just bringing you this swatch.” He held the fake fur in his hand against the fake fur on the collar. ”Well, looks like I can't use this now. Look at this, Ivanah. Feels real, doesn't it? But we use it and we don't have to alienate our younger customers. They don't want to kill animals.”
”Oh, please,” Ivanah squeaked. ”This is a leather jacket.”
”They think the rest of the cow is eaten.”
Ivanah and Jeremy laughed at their customers' stupidity, and Laura could see what he'd done. He'd spoken her language. He'd walked into the room, looking for a way to agree with her, and he immediately found it. Whatever that thing was that he had that could a.s.sess a person in half a second and use it to get what he wanted, she needed. He did it with the workers in his design room by playing on their fears, and he did it in the showroom by playing on the buyers need to feel like they were ”in,” and he did it with Ivanah to show her the things about the line that would appeal to her and downplay the things she didn't like.
”Jeremy,” Laura said, ”this is fun, but we're dissecting a corpse. We're closing up.”
”I'm sorry?” His back was to Ivanah when he turned to look at Laura, and she became acutely aware of the fact that he knew exactly what was going on. ”Oh, right. You're going out. I'll see you tomorrow. Come by for coffee in the morning.”
”No,” Laura said, ”we're going out of business. We're done here. Between the money running out and Thomasina, it's too much to handle.”
”She's dead. What can she do to you now?” Jeremy asked.
”Akiko Kamichura and her team or whoever are totally on us. They're running a story on our relations.h.i.+p with her that I think is going to imply we had something to do with it, and the cops are all over Ruby.”
”How is this more than a PR problem?” He looked from Laura to Ivanah and back. ”Hire Tintell & Ives, and they'll turn it into an a.s.set.”
”What?” Ivanah exclaimed. ”They'll botch it. No, darling. We have to use Greyson. They're mine, and they're fabulous. Yes, of course, you're right. This is no more than a PR problem. We'll have it sorted out in no time.”
Laura folded her arms. ”I can't afford to hire Greyson Management to spin this.”
”Don't insult me,” Ivanah said. ”I have them on retainer. I'm paying them to do nothing. It's decided. We stay open, and Greyson is on this tomorrow morning.”
Laura felt pretty sure that had been decided without her, and she was okay with that. Pierre and Ivanah exited in delightful moods, leaving her and Jeremy alone in the disaster of a showroom.
She picked up the wool crepe dress and gave herself a proper mental beating. ”G.o.d, I feel like such a wh.o.r.e.” She drifted off, thinking about Penelope's story. Not a fair comparison. ”She's going to put glitter on everything, and I have to let her now.”
”She's more useful close.” He hung up the leather jacket, leaning over her to do it. The movement was completely unnecessary, since there was plenty of room on his side.
She looked into his face and saw that he was sharing a deep secret with her, the secret of how to use people to get what you wanted. She felt a little queasy, and she didn't know if it was because the idea was repugnant or exhilarating.
”Her ideas aren't bad,” he continued, ”but they need to be reined in. Use them. Your trick is to take your own ideas and make her think they're hers. If she's invested creatively, she'll use her clout to get people in the door. And she has clout, Laura. Don't underestimate how important that is. There are no prizes for purity.”
”Can I have just one season be right?”
”You're having it. And you can't make your fabric minimums.” Only Jeremy could make the phrase ”fabric minimums” warm and inviting and an opening to a kiss. He leaned in and did what she had wanted him to do since the day she met him. He did it smoothly, like a cat, or a snake striking, or a man who had not a cell of insecurity in his whole body.
He kissed her. Or she kissed him. Or there was some silent communication from one to the other, some change in the intensity of their pheromones, or a look or glance coded to mean now, and they understood that now was now. Now was it. Now was the end of the line for her, the time when wondering and pining and candle holding slid off her, and something new started. Something undefined. Now was the pause between the wanting and the having, where the wanting was all she knew, and the having was suddenly possible, but unantic.i.p.ated, unimagined, frightening in its unpredictability. It was a closet door that opened by itself in the middle of the night or a dark alley that was a shortcut. It was a wrapped package given by a practical joker. That moment, that now, that moment when she saw the door creak open, or considered the alley, or received the package, came before the surprise, which would be pleasant, or unpleasant, or unimagined, but different.
Their kiss went on forever and ever, when all she wanted to do was sit alone in a dark room and remember it, ask what it meant, bring it to heel. Her mind went blank, and she existed solely inside her own mouth, where he was, with the warmth, taste, and feeling that he surrounded her inside and out, and when she thought she couldn't take the pleasure of it anymore, she gave him a little push and opened her eyes.
”Do I need to apologize?” he asked, all French roast eyes and black widow lashes.
”G.o.d, no. I just... I thought of something.”
He kissed her neck and she thought she would die right there when he whispered, ”Tell me,” into her ear.
”You're using a wool crepe for Spring. Can I tack onto your fabric orders and drop s.h.i.+p here? I can make my yardage if they'll s.h.i.+p greige.”
”Yes. What else?”
”I... ah... nothing.”
”Anything. Name it.”
”I can't think.”
She surrendered fully to his lips, letting him pull her close.
”Oh, Jesus Christ!” It was Corky with a tray of frothy coffees. ”About time.”
They separated, and Laura felt p.r.i.c.kly heat rise to her cheeks.
Jeremy slipped Ivanah's mocha-frappa-something out of the cardboard cupholder and handed Laura hers, saying, ”I'll be at the cutting table.”
Once he was gone, she asked, ”What do you mean 'about time'?”
”You've been mooning over him since senior projects.”