by Elias Taylor
Mel had turned bright red. The very next day she dove head-first into a mini-skirt phase. Tripp remembered her coming over with a sewing machine to hem clothes in Christina’s room. She had always been comfortable lugging around that portable sewing machine and a cloth bag filled with bright-colored fabric and wily sketches that were bold and suggestive if not truly striking. But what in the world did he know about fashion? Furthermore, what did he understand about it other than pulling on a pair of jeans with holes in the knees? Nothing. Ask him about fashion and he becomes a fish out of water. But ask him about motorcycles and you’ll see a man possessed.
As his family finished dinner and started to clear the plates, Tripp reflected on more recent memories of Mel. Earlier that month, he had given Christina a ride to the coffee shop where Mel worked. He had popped in to grab a coffee before heading to a work site. When he saw her behind the espresso bar, his first thought had been that Melissa Reynolds had definitely grown up fine. She had the same long red hair and the same wide green eyes, but for the first time, Tripp had noticed her long legs clad in well-fitting jeans. It had taken a lot of will-power to not run his eyes slowly over her perfect curves and round breasts while she dashed about making coffee. There was no denying it. Mel as a kid had been awkward and dorky in her crazy clothes, but Mel as an adult was nothing less than a knock-out. A dime for real.
Tripp had gone out of his way to not return to the cafe ́. He had enough to do without lusting after his sister’s best friend. Yes, she was seriously hot, but it was too weird. Tripp had been out of the house a lot so it wasn’t like he had spent a ton of time with Mel when she was growing up, but she was still definitely way too close to his family for him to even consider hooking up with her. What would his Mom think? What would Christina think? Bad idea.
“Well, Mom, that was damn good.”
“Honey, don’t say ‘damn.’” she scolded him gently.
“Sorry, Mom. That was darn good. But, really, I have to get going. I got work in the morning and I’m beat. I’m going to go home and crash, but I’ll be by tomorrow night.”
“Don’t come in drunk.” She took his face in her hands, “And no riding your bike home from the bar.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“She forced his chin straight with a hard look in her eyes, “I’m serious, no riding drunk. People crash like that all the time.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Tripp said goodnight to his father and sister and hopped on his bike.
He tried to think about his bike or the Road Warriors or even work, but his mind kept wandering back to Mel. He was curious about her plans. He knew she had always loved fashion, and he wondered what she planned to do in LA to leverage her passion into a career. When he got back to his apartment, Tripp decided it was time to stop thinking about Mel. He pulled up a chair at his desk and started leafing through some of his design plans.
He let out a low chuckle because one thing was for certain: if he ever went near Melissa Reynolds, his sister would take his head right off his shoulders. He smiled to himself, the thought of her naked beneath him, driving him to delightful fits of lust and passion, rousing his mind from its reverie. “Snap out of it man!” he said to himself. “You got no time for that.”
Chapter Three: Dates
The coffee shop had closed a half-hour ago leaving Mary Beth and Mel alone for some quality girl time, the one thing that they often talked about but rarely got to do outside of work. They were in the back room talking, discussing a wide array of topics from boys, to their futures to eventually moving out of Linden when Mel stopped a moment to adjust her hair. She took a handful of thick red locks from her eyes and tied them back with the rest of her hair. She giggled, “Sorry Mary Beth, but my hair drives me nuts sometimes.” The annoyance her hair brought to her was, at times, quite obvious. She often complained about it, “Seriously, it’s becoming so long that it’s annoying.” When asked why she didn’t just cut it off, her answer was simple and honest, “I don’t know. I guess it’s just become a part of me, you know...‘who’ I am,” and that was always sufficient enough to answer the question.
Chewing her bottom lip Mel continued on with getting Mary Beth’s measurements. As she examined the measuring tape that she had wrapped around Mary Beth’s hips she made a quick note on a piece of paper. Mel wanted to get this dress exactly right. Mary Beth was going to experience a true one-off custom-made dress that fit her like a second skin. Mel had visions of Mary Beth sweeping into the Women in Business gala and blowing every single person away. While she wasn’t truly ravishing by Miss America model standards she was pretty enough and curvy enough to draw attention from anybody in the room at first, second and third glances. Maybe someone would take a photo and it would end up in a San Diego paper. The possibilities were endless.
“Alright, I know I said red yesterday, but I sketched out a few other options,” Mel said. She spread some papers across Mary Beth’s desk. “I just want you to have options.”
For a second, Mel felt a flurry of nerves. It was always a bit scary to show her work to others. Applying to several fashion design schools had been beyond stressful. She thought her sketches were solid, but she wasn’t sure if Mary Beth would like them. Mary Beth could see at once why Mel chose fashion design as a career. Her sketches were phenomenal. She was a natural. She could see why the girl was accepted by such a prestigious school as the Fashion Institute of LA. Any doubts she had were instantly washed away in gentle hues and striking designs. They were modern with an artist’s flair for bold and fashionable yet with a charm that was inexcusably delightful in a “Modern Woman In Business” sort of way. The colors were earthy, bold and brilliant. Striking by all means and measures.
“These are amazing, Mel!” Mary Beth said. “I’m impressed, girl!”
A wave of joy washed over Mel, easing off any doubts that crept into her mind as to whether or not Mary Beth would take to her original prints.
“Thanks,” Mel said. “I was hoping you would like them.”
Mary Beth examined the options for a few minutes before placing her finger on one in the middle. It was a one-shoulder floor-length black dress. Mel wanted a dress that was black, like the color of coffee, but still anything but simple. She had added lace accents around the neckline, waist and hem.
“This one’s gorgeous,” Mary Beth said. “You really think I could pull it off?”
“Yes. Absolutely!” Mel said. “I think it’s sleek but sophisticated and totally perfect for you. You and the dress will totally complement one another.”
Mel was proud of all her designs, but the black dress had been her favorite. She was ecstatic that Mary Beth liked it as well.
“I can get started on this in the next few days, now that I have your measurements,” Mel said. She felt like squealing with joy. Ten minutes ago, she had been exhausted from the long hours on her feet during the morning and afternoon shift, but now she was rejuvenated at the idea of getting to work on the dress.
“It’s so nice,” Mary Beth said. “I feel like the payment we agreed on isn’t enough, it will barely cover materials.”
“Don’t worry about that, seriously,” Mel said. “I’m just happy to get some experience.”
Mary Beth frowned, and Mel could tell her boss was hesitant.
“Hey, as long as you promise me that I can work shifts during the holidays when I’m home, I’m willing to call us even,” Mel said.
“That I can do,” Mary Beth said. “It’s a deal.”
They shook on it, and then Mel started to pack up her things.
“Do you mind if I hang onto these for a night?” Mary Beth asked. “Just in case something else calls out to me?”
“Sure. No problem. That would be great.”
“Thanks, again Mel. Really. I appreciate this, I really do.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Mary Beth. I should be the one thanking you for giving me the opportunity to do what I love.”
“I’m glad that you
’re going to make me something fresh and beautiful. It saves me from buying something that was fashioned in a production line without heart.” Mary Beth continued to flip through the other sketches. There was the red full-skirted dress that Mel had originally envisioned, plus a more sparkly silver spaghetti strap number. Then, just for fun, Mel had mocked up a velvet pantsuit. Not really Mary Beth’s style, but Mel figured she should present her first client with a range of choices.
“Mel...?” Mary Beth looked deep into her sparkling green eyes, “Listen...I wanted to say that...seriously, you’re really good at this. Don’t ever give up. Anyone who sees these will plainly see that you’re meant to be doing this. And anyone who can’t...well, they just don’t get it, and maybe they never will.”
Mel blushed. Instantly she thought of her parents. And then she thought of Mary Beth. Mary Beth was a Business Woman at heart and often lacked fruitful charm when it came to complimenting people. In fact, it was common knowledge that Mary Beth was usually pretty sparing with her praise, so the frank compliment meant a lot coming from her. In addition, Mary Beth was someone who knew about taking risks in pursuit of a dream. Starting a new business is always risky, but Mary Beth had done it anyway and had seen amazing success.
“Thank you, Mary Beth,” Mel said. “That means a lot to me coming from you. See you tomorrow?”
“Sure thing, girl.”
As she hopped into her car, she planned out the week in her head. She could probably swing by the fabric store tomorrow, after the Charles’ Anniversary Party. Then she could perfect the design and start cutting the shapes out. She wanted to get started early so she would have plenty of time to accessorize—one of her favorite things about fashion design.
When Mel got back to her apartment, she was tempted to postpone heading to Christina’s and just get to work on the dress right away. She checked her phone and saw she already had about five texts from Christina begging her to “hurry up and come over already!” She smiled over Christina’s usual dramatics and started to throw stuff into an overnight bag: fresh clothes for tomorrow’s gathering—what she would wear before the actual Anniversary Party began—complete with three pairs of high-heels for variety. She tossed in a number of colored hair ties along with a couple of hairbrushes, one for straightening and one for volume. She threw in a pair of newly washed pajamas, toothbrush, toothpaste and underarm deodorant with two bottles of her favorite perfume. Finally, several mascaras, lipsticks, blushes, eye-shadows and facial creams.
She spent several long minutes contemplating her outfit for the actual party the next day. She had a cute sundress already selected, but she wasn’t sure if she should go with the sandals or the converse sneakers. Plus, she had to consider jewelry and hairstyling. To most people, clothes were just about appearances. Not to Mel. She believed that clothes were about philosophies and beliefs. Clothing made the person wearing them. It was about the expression of both the heart and the soul along with a peek into those hidden desires—the things one didn’t have the words to say. It was about who you wanted to be and who you thought you were. It was important for Mel to remember that when she presented herself to people.
Just as she was finishing her packing, her phone buzzed again. A text from Christina, “Girl, you need to get here before Tripp gets back. He has been so totally angsty lately, and seriously it’s killing the vibe. Just get here already!”
Mel felt her cheeks burn. She hated it when she blushed because she felt that a red face paired with her red hair made her look like a tomato. Perhaps a very cute tomato that danced along the lines of ravishing, but a tomato nonetheless. It was an old reflex of course, from the days when she used to harbor a secret crush on Christina’s tall and brooding brother. She had barely seen him in the past year, but Christina had reported that he really hated working for dad’s roofing company, but was too mopey to actually leave. ‘He doesn’t want to let my dad down,’ were her exact words.
Mel felt bad for Tripp. Surely, the guy must have his own dreams, she thought. And Mel understood firsthand what it was like when a parent had a specific life in mind for you. Her own mother thought she belonged in Linden. Her own mother thought it was in her best interest to find a husband and start a family. In Linden. It was hard to choose a life outside what people expected of you, especially your parents. If life held any wisdom at all it was the fact that Parents are often the people who always believe they know you better than you know yourself. And if she herself held any wisdom at all it was the fact that nobody, including her parents, knew her better than she knew herself. Heck, they can barely stand hearing of my dreams. They don’t know what truly moves me. Nor do they want to see me go after the only thing that makes any sense to me. Mel smiled, thinking of Tripp, I hope you follow your own dreams someday, Tripp.
When she arrived at the Charles’ house, it was mayhem. Tilly was running around directing a bunch of deliveries and orchestrating a constant flow of new arrivals all the while telling people to do this and do that while checking on this or seeing to that while ensuring that the large party tent was set up properly in the backyard. It was shaping up to be the party of the century, according to her exact specifications and wishes.
Christina dragged Mel into the kitchen where it was relatively quiet. “This party might actually drive my parents to get a divorce,” she said. “My mother is so stressed.”
Mel was used to Christina’s caustic sense of humor.
“I’m sure it will be great,” Mel said. She settled into a chair and propped her elbows on the kitchen table. Mel was completely comfortable at Christina’s house. She figured she must have eaten almost as many meals at this table than she had at her own house.
“So, I ordered pizza,” Christina said. “We can eat, then go watch a cheesy movie and then get some sleep, because my mother is going to be dragging us out of bed early in the morning to help set up.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Mel said.
Christina flopped into a chair across from Mel and tossed her hair over her shoulder.
“Now tell me everything about your very first designer gig,” Christina said.
“Okay,” she took a deep breath. “I’m going to blush when I say this, but...it’s so amazing, I’m gonna make this floor-length black dress with some lace accents. I drew several ideas, all of which are striking and original.” She pulled out the prints and laid them across the table as though she were showcasing her talents to the world.
Christina’s eyes poured over the works with pure delight. She clutched her hands to her heart and pawed at the drawings as though they were made especially for her. “So chic,” Christina said. “I’m in love, girl! I know who to ask to make my wedding gown, that’s for sure. And I get best friend discounts too, don’t I?”
“Of course, silly!” Mel laughed, shoving her friend. “Mary Beth loves it, and I can’t wait to see her in it,” she said. “I know it’s not that big of a deal, but I’m still excited.”
“It is so totally a big deal!” Christina said, a smile taking her up in a special light. “Stop selling yourself short, Mel! You’re going to be a star, and this is just the first step. I’m serious, these are amazing! I don’t know what else to say, but...holy shit!” She looked around quickly for her Mother, who detested foul language in any form and would not tolerate it in her house. Not from her or anybody.
Mel grinned, a tickled air beaming from her. Christina had always been amazing at giving support. Mel only hoped she returned that support when it came time. “How’s it going with Dylan?” she asked.
“Ugh, it’s gotten so stale,” Christina said.
She tossed her head and examined her impeccable manicure. “That was quick,” Mel said. She gave her friend a sly grin. Christina went through boys like crazy. Her philosophy was that she was young and pretty, so she wanted to get the most out of life. “Tell me more.”
Christina began with that same old sense of disparity she was known for, “Well, he said he was going to be my date
at this party, and then he fully bailed,” Christina said. “I hate flaky people.”
Mel chuckled for the simple fact that Christina herself was a notorious flake, but Mel knew better than to bring that up. She could never see that quality in herself anyways. Perhaps her being that very same kind of person drew the likeness from others. Whatever the case, Mel had her back. “Don’t worry, I’ll be your date,” Mel said, laughing but serious.
“You need your own date,” Christina said. “Are you seriously not seeing anyone?”
Mel rolled her eyes. This was Christina’s pet passion. It was sweet, but Mel got so tired of her friend trying to play matchmaker. Mel used to play along and allow herself to get set up with random guys, most at Christina’s choosing, but for the past year, she had blocked all of Christina’s efforts. “I’m way too focused on starting school in September to think about dating,” she said. “You know that.”
Christina leaned forward and lowered her voice. “But Mel, do you really wanna start college still a virgin?” Christina whispered.
Mel laughed out loud. Coming from someone else, being teased about her virginity might have bothered Mel. But this was Christina. She would never judge, she just didn’t understand why Mel hadn’t had sex. “I think I’ll survive,” she laughed hoarsely.
The truth was, Mel didn’t always understand it herself. There just hadn’t been anyone special enough. She didn’t feel like she had to hold onto her virginity to preserve her value or anything old-fashioned like that. She just hadn’t been interested in anyone. But also, she wanted it to be meaningful if not special. Decent if not truly great. She just wanted it to be at the right time with at least the right person. Someone of whom she would not regret a few years down the road.
She had dated a bit in high school, but nothing ever got serious. After high school, Mel had been way too busy working at the coffee shop and making a game plan to get into the Fashion Institute. She supposed she was a bit of a romantic, but not so much as to give herself up to the next boy she kissed. She was still expecting that earth-shattering big love to come along, even though she was probably getting too old for that kind of naivete. As for right here and now, Mel didn’t feel like she was missing out. Christina had loads of sex, but still never managed to feel fulfilled by any of her flings. That was something she definitely did not understand nor have the energy to entertain.