by Avery Aster
Lex shook her head to say no. “We were no Michael Jackson and Madonna at the Oscars, Taddy. It’s real”
“And here I sent him a nasty email.” Taddy choked. “I assumed Girasoli executed some PR stunt without my say so. And then the Milan Art Auction thing the next night kind of blew up in your face.”
“It did more than blow up in our face.”
“Love him, swear to baby Jesus—you love him?” Taddy spoke love as if it were some disease.
“Consider it sworn. I’m in love as in never before and will never be again.” She held up her hands. “I’m shaking from this emotion. I puked on the plane, twice.”
Taddy cracked the window down farther and put her head back on the leather headrest, pulling her sunglasses up into her hair and closing her eyes. “When I first saw the images from The Fashion Ball, I became excited but didn’t want to jinx you. I could see it on your face,” she said. “Love sick! Love sucks donkey balls. I despise feeling insecure, not knowing if it’ll be returned, major paranoia, blah.”
“Yes, you’re spot on with what’s going on inside.”
“I’m convinced love leads to schizophrenia.” Taddy sat back up as her bloodshot eyes focused. “Now did he say he loves you too? Have you guys expressed this to one another?”
“Massimo.” Lex let the word slide over her tongue. She loved saying his name. “Yes, he said I love you first.” The thought became more familiar in a good way. But was it too late?
Taddy’s tongue hung from her lower lip like a Bichon Frise thirsty for a Perrier. She glared down at Lex’s left hand and asked, “And? Hello! Get the Harry Winston,” she barked.
“We barely know each other. Of course he hasn’t asked me to marry him. I could tell he wanted to. But we didn’t go there.”
“Did you two have sex? Ahh Maaa Gad! You didn’t? You did! Oh for Pete’s sake.” Taddy’s sexual capabilities turned the odometer well over one hundred thousand miles whereas Lex’s were, well, maybe over three miles.
“Taddy!” Lex shouted and gave the “cut” sign with her hands to her neck.
“How’s the royal’s peter anyway?” Taddy laughed, entertaining herself with her own jokes.
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Spare me. You don’t kiss period. But look at you. My, my, my. Aside from your bashed up face, you’re glowing. I haven’t seen you look happy in years.” Taddy studied her from top to bottom. “He slammed your pussy, didn’t he?” Taddy gunned for an answer. “The longtime Miss Prudence of Prudeville, my frigid friend, the “Big Apple Starved for Sex” got her McIntosh plucked. Or should I say fucked and made into apple sauce.”
“Shut up, Taddy!”
“Oh honey, we’re having a party for your fashion show and…for your clit being back on the sex wagon. Jesus, it took you long enough.” She laughed to herself again—louder this time—and snorted. “I wish you’d experienced a tad more than a handful to compare it to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you have fucked about two men in your whole life. I’m dying to know if an Italian royal makes love better or worse than a Manhattanite.”
“Massimo’s an amazing lover. He’s sweet and patient and kinky.” Lex pressed her lips together.
“I’m starting to wonder if your eye blackened from Massimo clubbing you with his Italian dick.” She screamed, “How hung is he?”
Oh Jesus. “Never you mind, but he’s gifted.” She wanted to slap Taddy back to reality.
Taddy grinned, giving her a look up and down and up again. “Okay back on media talk, your press is all over the place. Most reporters are talking about the Milan Art Auction four way crystal meth party.”
“Which is bullshit.”
“And some reporters are talking about your love story. Can’t believe I assumed it was fictitious. But it’s real. You two are the next Victoria and David Beckham. I’ve never seen anything this fierce before. I can’t believe I assumed it to be PR bullshit. My trained eye should know better.” She pulled out the magazine again and studied the cover. “This photo at The Fashion Gala is saaaalacious. With you two in love, I have much more to add to this PR spin.” She rubbed her palms together, preparing to launch a campaign as no other. Her red acrylics rapped together making a clinking noise.
“The vintage Valentino dress is beautiful, isn’t it?” The article and those images taken before everything turned to hell.
“I almost fell off my barstool when the screen shot came across the TV. I thought I saw a movie star. No offense.” Taddy snickered.
“My body double perhaps?”
“Birdie always says your beauty matches Charlize Theron. In Valentino I agree with her.” She reached for Lex’s face. “Did you get any facial injections in Milan? I mean before the girls beat you up. Did you have your tits done to resemble mine?” Taddy pushed silicone on everyone. She received a huge Park Avenue discount from her cosmetic surgeon every year for all the referrals she’d given him over the years.
Tears blinded her and choked her voice. Not over the beauty compliments—she couldn’t care less—but thoughts of Massimo flooded over her. God, she loved him.
“Don’t start blubbering. You know my credo, no crying. I came back from my press trip leaving Big Daddy behind because we have nonstop work ahead.”
“The next seventy two hours will make our heads spin.”
“Since you avoided Birdie—plague style—she’s called me every hour on the hour. Your mother is jacked up to get this show off the ground.”
“Mom’s back on her speed.”
“Birdie confirmed the shipment arrived this morning.”
“Great.” Slight relief blessed Lex’s anxiety, not enough but a little to allow her to sit back in the car seat. They could move on to the next phase for product development. “I’m sorry about putting Birdie on you. I couldn’t manage her and Massimo at the same time.”
“I understand. She’s sewing to the patterns and sketches you left. Birdie and I agreed I’d do the PR for the show. You’d pay me net thirty after your orders come in.”
“Okay,” Lex said. She could manage this.
“But I want to decline on our usual status quo and opt for no payment, not now. Instead, I want to increase my shares in Easton and take a higher percentage when you sell to Girasoli.”
“I knew you’d say this. I could feel it in my bones.” You’re ruthless. She’d learned a lot from how Taddy worked with her clients. It made Brill, Inc. millions.
“Bones, my love, have nothing to do with it. It’s what I do. I have you by the balls.” Taddy squeezed her right hand into a fist.
“How so?”
“Easton needs Brill to work around the clock as media mules.”
“True.”
“Brill shall be rewarded for our hard work. With this said, here’s your schedule for the week.” A sheet outlining media appointments went from Taddy’s bag to Lex’s hands. She shouted at the driver, “Jose, how much longer ’til we get into the city?” They inched down the Long Island Expressway, moving in and out from the carpool lane.
“A few more minutes, Miss Brill. I’m going to take you into town via the FDR on the east side.”
“Jose—I want midtown. You know, Poppy White’s studio.”
“The TV station?” Lex piped up.
“Blake Morgan, my vice president, aka media maven, your favorite guy in town booked you for TV appearances today.”
“Oh no, Blake didn’t…” She held her breath.
“One segment today with Vive, but the real work begins at six o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“What’s tomorrow morning?”
“We drop you for a live news feed to every single TV station in the country.” Taddy’s eyes lit up as if she’d lit the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.
“Taddy!” When everything couldn’t get any worse, she felt the Brill, Inc. media pie smack her in the face. I want to crawl under the covers and hide. I don’t want to do TV. N
ot today. Not now. Not ever.
“Suck it up, honey. We start taping with Poppy White in two hours.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Meet Me at Sunset
“Taping?” I haven’t done a TV interview in years.
“Yes, today you’re going on The Poppy White Show. Then tomorrow Blake booked you on Good Morning America followed by The View.”
“Tabitha Adelaide Brillford! I’m exhausted. I can’t go on TV today or tomorrow. I’m a mess. I don’t know what I’m going to say.”
Taddy’s eyes squinted. “Don’t assume calling me by my birth name you’re gonna get me to change my mind. It’s Taddy Brill, bitch! We have two hours to rehearse and prep you before you go live.”
“I can’t.”
“Do you want Blake to come after you? You know how hard Blake’s team works to keep Easton in the media’s best light. And since you’ve claimed your fame as the face for the brand, we have to do this.” Taddy pointed her finger at her to buckle up.
“I didn’t claim this shit on purpose. I’m being forced into this.”
“Would you care for another black eye?” Taddy held up her fist with a smile.
“I have nothing to wear,” Lex sulked. I’m not doing this.
“Birdie and Aunt Muffie are meeting us at The Poppy White Show. She’s bringing you a suit to put on.”
“My face is banged up.” Did it matter? The world saw her at her worst in Milan.
“Blake scheduled beauty extraordinaire Nackie Karcher for your hair and you’re getting Christopher Drummond to fix your face. Both will be with us ’til after we finish the taping tomorrow.”
Lex felt a little relieved. Christopher Drummond’s concealer could fix a hole in the wall. She wanted a paper bag to put over her own head. Deep sobs racked her insides and ran nonstop since she’d left Massimo’s arms. “What are we going to talk about?”
“We have to focus on the five primary questions. They are…” Taddy paused and looked up at her.
“Yes, I’m paying attention. Continue.” Annoyed, Lex hated being “handled,” let alone media trained. She’d watched her dad go through it for years. Unlike Taddy, Lex never cared for the PR part to Easton. Nevertheless it was Fashion Week and she did this twice a year.
“Okay, number one, you and Massimo an item?”
“We were, for a few hours.” She became overwhelmed by the feeling, she loved being with him. Her heart felt heavy with regret. “We’re going to talk after this week is behind me. I shouldn’t have left the way I did.” Her face tensed as she tried to digest her actions.
Taddy continued, “Oh sweet baby Jesus on an ice cream cone. You are a fucking mess, honey.” She shuffled her papers to display her annoyance. “Okay, your answer to the question should be—you two are smitten with each other and very good friends.” She wrote the response on a card and handed it to her. “Read this over and over again until it seeps from your pores. Number two, are you selling your company to Girasoli?”
“Heavens no! Not right now. I never considered selling, but we do need capital, and being merged with Girasoli’s fashion empire may provide advantages to Easton. I’m uncertain if I could work with someone I’m attracted to—in love with. How can this work?”
Taddy glared at her. “You are scatterbrained!”
“Massimo and I need to first figure ‘us’ out before we even talk business. I’m doing a spinoff label for them called Easton Express. It could be bigger than Easton Essentials. It’s more affordable and will go into all the mass stores.” She blubbered like an idiot. How should she package the truth to the press? Lex studied Taddy’s reaction for help.
“You’ll say you’re in discussions and trying to determine an acquisition.”
“Right, sounds good.”
“Mention your collaboration on several designer projects together.” She crossed it off her list, wrote the response on the second note card, and handed it to Lex with a nod saying “memorize me” as the silent instruction and continued. “Number three, what’s in store for your upcoming fashion show?”
She inhaled in comfort to answer the question. “The theme is Meet Me at Sunset. It’s sexy silhouettes with romantic blush tints, fluid draped dresses, tailored to perfection with separates that make you swoon.” My first dinner with Masi was at sunset.
“Lord knows we all love to swoon,” Taddy said, playing the interviewer.
“A true homage to the female figure with plunging necklines, some pieces are a little retro—a throwback to the late seventies. The high drama pieces are nude on nude colors, while others have rich and sugaring shades in varying corals and pinks.”
“Good response. Keep going, Miss Easton.”
“This year I’m including a few more evening gowns similar to what Monique Lhuillier does.”
“Formal wear is new for you.”
“I met this amazing designer named Jemma. She inspired me—Massimo also.”
“I bet he did.”
“Milan motivated me. I worked on the sketches on the plane ride back. I’ll be up all night cutting and sewing.” Media aside, she remained curious as to who would be attending her show. “Do we have any celebrities coming?” Lex wasn’t one to appease an actress, but found it to be a requirement for the fashion game.
Taddy sat up and replied, “Same as last year plus a few new ones. The talent wrangler is charging a pretty penny for the A listers. We’ve confirmed Beyonce, Rihanna and Fergie. Gaga will come, but you can’t sit her on the same side as Madonna.”
This show is going to be huge. “Anyone famous modeling in the show?”
“Reality TV star Neve Adele is going to open your show. With her ratings on TV, the media’s jaws will drop when she comes out. But you know she’s exclusive to the lilac color.”
“I have a purple fabric I can use for her. Can we add Jemma Fereti to the show?” Lex had created a gown with Jemma in mind on the plane. She knew what fabric she’d use and remained confident it would go with her colorings.
“From Ford, is she still modeling?”
“No, she retired, but I want her to do the show with me. I’ll give you her contact info.”
“Sure, honey, we’ll add her to the same models list. We have Bette, Zuzanna, Cora, and Nimue—you are all set. She held on to the seat in front and shouted, “Jose! How are we on time?” Taddy flipped to another folder.
“Fifteen more minutes, Miss Brill!” They pulled out from the Queens Midtown Tunnel. Lex’s attention turned to the outside world speeding by.
“Do you really love him?” Taddy asked while putting a folder together.
A lump swelled in her throat when hearing this question. She’d better get used to it. Today she’d be asked this over and over again, more than any other on the list. “Yes, I love him. Though I’ve never felt love before and have nothing to compare this to. We’re passionate together.”
“And the sex?” Taddy’s face brightened with great interest.
“He’s magical Taddy. I do. I love him.”
“How so?”
“Massimo is in charge. He commands a presence the second he walks into a room. I melt when I’m around him.” She thought back to the Q-and-A they’d played and how exhilarating Massimo became in bed. His big boy smile when his cock pounded her cunt. “I can’t live the life he leads. It’s not me. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” Without a doubt she wanted to be with Massimo, but she couldn’t wrap her head around everything that came with it.
“I need to keep you in good spirits ’til we’re done with our last interview. So you and Massimo figure you guys out after Fashion Week is over. ’Kay?”
“Gotcha.” She brightened a little. This schedule would keep her mind off Massimo. “Please thank Blake for me.”
“You’ll see him tonight.”
“What now?”
“We’re having dinner with the fashion reporter from Vogue. We have every major fashion editor coming to your show.” Taddy took pride in her work—L
ex could hear it in her voice. “But Vogue wants to hear it first, hence why we’re having dinner.”
“What did you have in mind for the afterparty?” A soiree made Lex’s stomach turn. She wanted to get through the show, collect the orders, and be done with it for a while. She hoped Taddy forgot this final detail. But knew the “paint the town red” ceremonies mistress wouldn’t see it any other way.
“Blake put a call into Mr. Armin. He gave us his club at The Soho Château. We’ll have it for five hours.”
Impressive. Mr. Armin reigned as the town’s celebrated club owner on the East Coast.
“Five more minutes, Miss Brill,” Jose informed them.
“Thanks, Jose. Okay, Lex, I have two more questions for you.” She glared at her with a BFF face. “Is Massimo coming to the fashion show?”
“Nope—he didn’t give a reason and I didn’t pry. It may have something to do with his sister living here. But with everything going on this morning it didn’t cross my mind.”
“Well, this sucks. But maybe it’s for the best he isn’t here to muddy your mind. You two will have a lifetime to figure this out later.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lex, you’re in love. I’ve never heard you say the L word before. You’re going to move to Italy and marry your prince. And Vive, Blake and I will be stuck as bridesmaids. Can we do a red themed wedding?” She snorted.
“How can you make such predictions?”
“Your heart will tell you what to do when it’s time.” Taddy became sensitive and serious, a rare sight. “Sorta how you started Easton Essentials. It came to you and Birdie in a blink, and it is a wildfire success.”
“You’re right!” Lex thought about how Easton Essentials began on organic intuition.
“Always.” Taddy pulled from her SUV’s mini fridge an aluminum canned beverage and encouraged, “Down this. You’re going to need it for the fifth and final question.”
“What is it?” Lex pushed the cold can away from her, the condensation moistening her hands.
“Monster Bull Energy! You need to be ‘up’ for these shows, and this caffeine will have you talking as never before.” Taddy reached into her purse and pulled out an Excedrin bottle.