Pansy's Passion [The Black Dahlia Hotel 5] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Skye Michaels

  Pansy pulled out her cell phone and checked the calendar app. “Okay. That will work. Fashion Week runs from February 4th to 11th this year, so I’ll be done in time to go.”

  “Wonderful. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss your runway show for anything.”

  “I think it’s going to be good. I’ve got the initial samples in the backroom under lock and key. Want to see?”

  “Absolutely.”

  * * * *

  The Loft, Stranahan Shoe Factory Building, Tribeca Section of New York, New York, Monday morning, January 4, 2016

  Billie Crockett looked up as Logan Hawk walked through the door of the loft. He had been listening to the creak and clank of the ancient freight elevator that accessed the top floor loft of the Stranahan Building. “Welcome back. Good to see you. How’s Mel?”

  “Good to be back. Melodie is fine. How’s everything here? Any last-minute problems with the six-city tour?”

  “Nope. Everything is right on track. We start here on January ninth and Chicago on the thirteenth and fourteenth.”

  “Melodie’s operation is scheduled for the fifteenth. I’m going to be flying back for that and then rejoining the tour in Denver.”

  “Right, Denver is on the twentieth, Phoenix on the twenty-third, LA on the twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth, and Seattle on the thirtieth.”

  “I thought that after the tour is over, we’d all take a break at The Black Dahlia for a couple weeks. I’ve reserved three suites for February 12th through the 26th. That includes Valentine’s Day. You guys are going to love the dungeon. Fashion Week is from February 4th to 11th, and I know Melodie will want to be here for Pansy.”

  “Who all is going?”

  “Melodie and me, Pansy, Jasper and Max, and all you guys, plus Keith and Tyler’s girlfriends.”

  Hmmm. Pansy. “Okay. Sounds good. Count me in.”

  “Don’t think you can put one over on me, Billie. I can read you like a book. I bet you a hundred bucks you can’t get Pansy into the dungeon without knocking her out first. This is strictly between you and me. No one, especially Melodie, can know about our side bet.”

  “You are on, Tonto! It will be a pleasure to take your money.” Billie had a wicked grin on his face.

  “We’ll see about that, ke-mo sah-bee. I think I’m going to be walking away a hundred bucks richer.”

  * * * *

  Logan was grinning on the inside, but he wouldn’t let Billie see anything but his stoic Indian face. They both had a competitive streak a mile wide, and this little bet was guaranteed to have Billie making the extra effort. For some reason, he didn’t really think it was necessary to grease the skids. Billie was on the downward slide where Pansy was concerned. He’d had a hard-on for her for months. Logan just wasn’t sure how Pansy felt about Billie. He thought he detected a gleam of interest, but he also knew that Billie’s arrogant bad-boy rock star persona annoyed her mightily sometimes. Well, it annoyed Logan sometimes, too.

  Billie was the band member most likely to give him a hard time at every opportunity. He was a wise-ass who liked to pull Logan’s leg when he could. But Logan knew he could depend on Billie when the chips were down, or even if they weren’t. All of the guys would be there for him and each other as well, but he and Billie were particularly close. He’d like to see Billie settled into a good relationship. Billie and Guy Penrod were the only two members of the band who were currently single. They’d been trolling Le Club for subs, but no one had made the permanent cut for either of them. Frankly, it would take a hell of a woman to tame Billie Crockett, but Logan thought Pansy had the grit to handle Billie long-term. It would be interesting to watch the process.

  Logan and Billie had discussed the few things that still needed to be ironed out for the tour before he left for Florida with Melodie, and Billie had taken care of everything while he’d been away. Logan had known he could handle it. People didn’t take Billie seriously enough, and frankly, Logan knew that was his intention. It made his life easier, and he sure as shit didn’t want into the family business. Logan was one of the few people who knew what that actually was. In addition to being a first-class keyboard man and backup vocalist, he had graduated from college with a B.A. in Business Administration and had begun work on a Master’s Degree, which he had completed before the band had really started to take off. He just didn’t think the biz degree enhanced his music mystique. There were depths to Billie even Logan didn’t completely understand. Billie never talked about his family except in the most general of ways, and Logan had only ever met his father once. It had not been a pleasure.

  Chapter Two

  The workroom of Pansy’s Frocks, Tribeca section of New York City, New York, Monday morning, January 4, 2016

  The last few weeks had flown by. Pansy had been immersed in last-minute details for her first runway show at the MADE Fashion Week in New York for the Spring-Summer Collections. The MADE shows catered mostly to the up-and-coming designers and would be held in the Meatpacking District as opposed to Lincoln Center.

  Not only did her collection need her undivided attention, but she had to design some killer outfits for herself that would be totally unique. She could go all Vera Wang in head-to-toe black, but that colorless look was really not her. She needed to stand out and be noticed by the fashion columnists, but not in a clownish way. There was a fine line between individuality and the ridiculous. Pansy didn’t want to cross it and become a laughingstock at her first show.

  This was a dream come true—the hectic atmosphere of Fashion Week, all of the parties, the celebrities, the excitement, and most of all, a world-wide showcase for her collection. Being a flop at Fashion Week could spell an early end to her promising career and relegate her back to the world of designing cut-rate fashion for discount stores. Some celebrities had gone that route, but Pansy wanted a first-class fashion career, not a way to troll for some quick bucks. She picked up her cell phone and called Melodie.

  “Hey, girlfriend. Feel like making a recon visit to the Meatpacking District with me to check out the hall at Milk Studios on Fifteenth Street where the show will be? I want to scout out the location and walk the runway and explore the backstage areas.”

  “Sure, I’d love to. We can catch lunch while we’re out.”

  “If we have time. I’m on a very tight schedule. I also have to pay a surprise visit to the Garment District to talk to the manufacturer who’s sewing my rags. I want to make sure he has the finished pieces ready for delivery. I only have hand-basted first sample mock-ups at the shop. Also, I want to check on the security. It wouldn’t be good to have my stuff out in plain sight.”

  “Really? Fashion spies are trolling the Garment District for a glimpse of the clothes?”

  “Fashion spies, columnists, general evildoers. It’s a cut-throat business.”

  “Okay. I’ll grab a cab and come over. I want to see what you have at the studio. I’m at Logan’s loft right now.”

  “See you in a few.”

  * * * *

  Melodie knew how important this Fashion Week debut was to Pansy. She designed one-of-a-kind outfits under her own label for some of New York’s socialites, and she also designed bridge-level clothes for the private labels of some of the higher-end department stores like Macy’s Charter Club. She really wanted to get in at the bridge level with her own label. This was her chance to get her name out there to a broader audience, a chance for Pansy’s Frocks to become a household name like Betsey Johnson. She didn’t aspire to be a Christian Dior or Balenciaga, but maybe a female Ralph Lauren would be possible. Who knew? Catching the eye of the press and the public who were fickle in the extreme was a crap-shoot, but she wanted her chance at the spotlight.

  Melodie turned to Logan. “I’m going over to Pansy’s to see her latest designs, and we’re going to check out the hall were her show will be in the Meatpacking District, make a stop at her manufacturer in the Garment District, and maybe grab some lunch.”

  “Okay, babe. I have work here. Be
careful. Love you.” Logan swooped down and caught her up for a hot and heavy kiss.

  When Logan let her up for air, Billie had materialized at her side. “Can I tag along? I’d like to see Pansy’s shop.”

  Melodie squinched up her face. “Are you sure? It’s going to be a trek with no guaranteed food at the end of the line, except maybe a hot dog.”

  “Maybe I’ll get to ogle some models or something.”

  Right. What is he up to? “Sure. You can come if you aren’t needed here.”

  Logan had a suspicious grin on his face. “I don’t need him. Actually, I could use the peace and quiet of having him out from under foot.”

  Those two were up to something, but she couldn’t imagine what. They both just looked guilty. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  * * * *

  Billie had been interested in seeing Pansy’s workshop, but more than that, he hadn’t seen Pansy in weeks. Between her rigorous schedule getting ready for Fashion Week and the band getting ready to go on the road, there hadn’t been much interaction since Logan and Melodie got back from Florida. He’d had a strange feeling lately, like he was missing her or something. That didn’t make any sense, as they had never been close at the best of times, barely tolerating each other for Melodie’s sake.

  The wager with Logan didn’t have anything to do with it. He was sure of that. He and Logan bet on shit all the time, and that same hundred bucks went from pocket to pocket and back again with regularity. Logan thought Billie didn’t realize what he was doing by betting he couldn’t get Pansy into the dungeon. He knew all of Logan’s tricks as well as Logan knew all of his.

  Billie flagged down a cab heading uptown. He and Melodie got out in front of the warehouse where Pansy’s Frocks had a showroom, studio, workroom, and storage space. There was only a small sign in the lobby—if it could be called that—of the building. This place made the band’s loft look like the Ritz. Pansy must be operating on a shoestring.

  Her space was on the third floor. They took the rickety elevator up and got out in front of steel double doors marked only with a sign that said “P.F. – Deliveries in the rear.” Melodie had explained the necessity for discretion and high security in the fashion business. He found it all a little amazing. It was the dress business, after all, not rocket science.

  They hit the bell on the door and were buzzed in. Pansy looked surprised to see him, as well she might. He’d never been there before, and he never followed around on Melodie’s coattails. “Hi, Billie. What are you doing here?”

  “Gracious as always, Pansy.” He walked over, hugged her, and gave her ass a little pat. Nice tits and great ass. “I had some free time, so I thought I’d hang out with you two. I wanted to see your operation.”

  Pansy raised her eyebrows at Melodie. “Well, let me show you around, then. Drop your coats on the sofa. Mel, I have samples of all of the numbers for the show in the back room. This is the first time they have all been in one place at one time. I’ve been shuffling them around to get the best drama for the order of presentation in the show.”

  “Any models hanging around here?” Billie knew he had a smirk on his face, and Pansy probably wanted to smack him.

  “No, wise guy. No models on the premises at present. You made the trip for nothing.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You’re here.”

  “Yeah. Right. Let’s go look at the samples. I’d like your suggestions on runway order, Mel.”

  * * * *

  Pansy sighed. Billie never failed to annoy her, and that pat on the ass...Models, indeed. She was starting to get the idea he enjoyed annoying her and went out of his way to do so. And she fell into his trap every time. He was never like that with Melodie. Men! Billie Crockett!

  Melodie gave him an elbow in the ribs. “Behave yourself or I won’t take you out any more.” She had a Mom smirk on her face. She might as well have said she wouldn’t let him have dessert. Billie just smiled and pulled Melodie into a hug.

  Well, jeez. Is that a little pang of jealousy I just felt? Couldn’t be. But it would be nice to feel those muscular arms wrapped around her like that again. Where is this nonsense coming from? This is Billie Freakin’ Annoying Crockett here. Pansy unlocked the door to the storage room. There were three racks of carefully-hung sample outfits. She had been arranging and rearranging the order of presentation for two days, but she was never quite satisfied. This all had to run like clockwork. The models had only a few minutes to change outfits and get back in the rotation for their struts down the catwalk.

  “Well here they are. P.F.’s finest for Fashion Week. I’m so excited sometimes I think I’m going to throw up.”

  “Nice visual, Pansy.” Billie was grinning.

  “Isn’t it, though? I can’t help it. I can hardly believe I made the cut for a show this year.”

  Billie was staring thoughtfully at the racks. He was leaned up against the wall next to the door with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, stretching the fabric across his impressive package. He looked over at her. “May I?”

  Well, this should be good. Rock n’ Roll Boy thinks he knows about fashion. “Sure, knock yourself out. I’d be interested in your opinion.”

  Billie stared for a moment or two longer and walked over the first rack. Then he got busy. It took him about twenty minutes while Pansy and Melodie sat on metal folding chairs, watching him in awe. Pansy turned to Melodie and shrugged her shoulders. Who knew? Before their eyes appeared an array of colors organized as they would appear in a rainbow, with the lightest item of each color first. He had started with a sleek, black halter-style evening gown, and he had even known to leave the white wedding gown for last.

  Melodie said, “I don’t believe my eyes. How did you do that?”

  “What? You didn’t think I knew anything, did you?”

  Pansy said, “No really, Billie. That’s amazing.”

  “Merchandizing class a few years ago. This is the Spring-Summer collection right?, A rainbow makes sense. For Fall-Winter I’d arrange them from least to most warm.”

  “It certainly does make sense. Why didn’t I think of that? I went through every other possible scenario I could think of.”

  “Overthinking. Next time I tell you you’re overthinking something, listen to me.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  “Promise? It may be in a different context.”

  “I promise.”

  * * * *

  Billie turned away so the two women would not see his smile. Bet won. It’s all over but the shouting. And he’d also wager there was going to be plenty of shouting. Logan wasn’t the only one who loved it when a plan came together. They were going to have to spend that hundred-dollar bill they kept passing back and forth and replace it with a new one. It was getting seriously tattered.

  “Jeez, Billie, I may have to hire you.” Pansy had a relieved look on her face.

  “Nope. You can’t afford me. Rock star, remember?

  “Oh, how could I forget?”

  “Don’t smart off. You will have occasion to regret it later.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. Really. I will collect on this debt.”

  “Now, I am getting worried.”

  “As well you should,” he said, and under his breath mumbled, “subbie.”

  * * * *

  Pansy, Melodie and Billie put their coats back on and headed to the rickety elevator. “Pansy, going up and down in this thing several times a day must really get your cardio up. Are any of your neighbors fond of sharp instruments?” Billie was smirking again.

  “Very funny. The price is right. For now, I have to keep expenses for nonessentials down so I can put it into the best manufacturer and the best fabrics and trimmings. That all costs up-front money. It takes money to make money.”

  “It certainly does.”

  “Come on, Billie. Really. How did you know that arrangement would work?”

  “I told you, I took a merchandising class in college.”

&n
bsp; Pansy could see she wasn’t going to get any more information than that from him. He could be annoyingly close-mouthed, or annoyingly smart and obnoxious. Billie was a puzzle. That was for sure. She thought she might like to solve the puzzle.

  Pansy had dated lots of guys, been serious about a few, and been really in love with only one. He had ended up disappointing her in the most personal and painful way. She’d walked in on him and her older sister in the bed in their walk-up apartment in Greenwich Village. Pansy had come home from work early with a head cold and found them fucking like bunnies. They hadn’t heard her, and she stood in the doorway of the bedroom in shock. Finally, she’d gone out to the kitchen and come back with a pitcher of ice water from the refrigerator.

  Yeah. Dex had been a big disappointment. She had thought he was the one. He was driven to succeed and serious about his career as a stock broker trainee. He was also totally without morals or compassion, it seemed. There were lots of women in the world and lots of beds if he wanted to cheat. Why had he had to have her sister? And in her own bed? Pansy and Rosemarie had never gotten past it, and Pansy had never forgiven her sister for that betrayal. It made family holidays uncomfortable. She had never told her parents what had happened, and as a result, they didn’t understand why the two sisters couldn’t be in a room together without sniping at each other. Even if Dex had been an asshole, her sister should have known better. Rosemarie had always been a little jealous of Pansy’s free-wheeling, artistic lifestyle.

  * * * *

  The curb at 450 West Fifteenth, entrance to the Milk Studios, in the Meatpacking District, New York City, New York, Monday morning, January 4, 2016

  Billie helped the two women out of the cab in front of the Milk Studios building. He took an extra few seconds taking Pansy’s hand and then pulling her surreptitiously into his arms as she stumbled slightly on the uneven pavement of the sidewalk.