by Lee, Corri
Chapter Eleven
Lobke pulled open the door of the Chrysler with a grin and waved a hand to the street behind her. “Welcome to Old Bond Street, bitches.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her increasingly friendly attitude with us- she was quickly becoming a very firm friend, even if she was just hired to drive us around London.
I slid down from my seat onto the path, cardboard coffee cup in one hand, mobile phone in the other, and looked down the long bustling street of ridiculously over-priced and upmarket boutiques. Had I arrived there two days earlier, I imagine I would have found handfuls of spare change being emptied into my half-full cup- note, not half empty- but after my appointment with Fabrio and my loaned leather biker-girl outfit, I looked almost upper class. “So what are we doing on Old Bond Street?”
“Well,” Lobke handed me a piece of paper and climbed back into the driver’s seat, “I am going to find somewhere to park and meet you in your travels. You two are slowly working your way down to the far end of New Bond Street following that list of shops, starting with Dolce & Gabbana.”
Bethany snatched the piece of paper from my hand and unfolded it to reveal the unbelievable hand-written list- Dolce & Gabbana, Gucci, Chanel, Ralph Lauren, Emporio Armani, Louis Vuitton, Jimmy Choo. Her eyes widened with delight and she unleashed a high pitched squeal that broke the sound barrier. “Shopping spree! Greed is a shopping spree!” I snickered and rolled my eyes at Lobke.
“Don’t be stu-…” She raised an eyebrow at me and nodded. “No.” I shook my head and snatched the list out of Bethany’s hand. “No, that’s ridiculous.” Lobke steered me by the shoulders towards the entrance of Dolce & Gabbana and gave me a stubborn shove.
“Have fun!”
Bethany wrapped her arm around mine and led me through the doors looking as starry eyed as a child in Santa’s grotto. We were immediately descended on by an abnormally wrinkle-free and harsh faced middle-aged woman in a high necked white blouse and mauve pencil skirt. She reminded me of a strict headmistress and her icy glare forced me to seek refuge behind my coffee cup. I even felt Bethany wither by my side, which was a solid confirmation that this woman’s demeanour screamed ‘bitch’ with a capital B.
“Miss Douglass, Miss Marshall.” Her sharp tone caught us both unaware and we flinched simultaneously. “Come with me.” She turned with a flounce and left Bethany and I in her wake. We exchanged terrified glances and crept through the racks of clothes after the ice queen.
The walk through endless storage rooms and darkened corridors seemed to last for an eternity. I’m not even entirely sure that we were still in the store when we finally reached a large blinding white room with black floors that put me in mind of the publishing house and spa. The room was bare except for a large crescent shaped powder blue couch, several full length mirrors and an oriental style privacy screen.
The inhospitable witch pulled a long rack of fine clothing from a cleverly concealed cupboard and nodded towards the couch. “This is a variety of pieces from this season’s collection, hand-picked by Nathaniel Alexander and his assistant on Saturday evening. Anything ill-fitting can be altered to suit your-…” She pursed her lips and gave me a judgmental stare, “- frame. What you approve of from the collection will be delivered to your home this evening.”
I stared back at her and sucked my lip sceptically, trying to fight past the fact that she had basically just called me fat. “Pardon me?”
“I really don’t see what’s so hard to understand, Miss Douglas. Mr Alexander has taken the time out of his busy schedule to pick you out a new wardrobe and has requested that all articles you approve are delivered to your house.” She stepped back from the rack and sat herself down at a desk which I hadn’t previously noticed.
Bethany pulled me up from the couch and smiled at me helplessly as she began to work her way through the selection of beautifully cut fabrics. I stared at her numbly, scared to touch a single thing. This outrageous palette of fashion finery put me devastatingly on edge- I wasn’t even willing to entertain the idea of taking any of these outfits home.
“For god’s sake, Cecelia, I didn’t spend Saturday night arguing with Nate over dresses just so you could look at them.” Lobke crept up behind me and pulled a long crimson evening dress off the rail. “Ok, maybe he was right. Red might not be your colour.”
“I would make red my colour if it came at a price tag of-…” My hand delved down into the body of the dress and searched for its tag. I came out at a loss. “Uh, price tag?” Lobke looked at me vacantly for a second before putting the dress back on the rail.
“Oh, he had them removed so you wouldn’t obsess about the expense.” I couldn’t entirely believe Nathaniel’s audacity- to throw me into such a foreign situation then strip me of the tools to uphold my basic principles. The idea of needlessly wasting money on something as frivolous as designer clothing baffled me and it was certainly not a trend I wanted to conform to.
“Excuse me.” I wandered away from the rack of nightmares and scrolled through my phone to Nathaniel’s number. I had to know what the hell he was thinking.
“Cecelia.” His voice provoked a smile that I just couldn’t suppress despite my worsening temper, and that influence angered me further. “What can I do for you?”
“Well I’m in Dolce & Gabbana…”
“Mm-hmm…” I could hear the amused smirk in his murmur. “And you’re confounded by the lack of price tags.” My ire began to bubble uncontrollably. He sounded so smug in his knowledge that he had predicted my reaction so ably. “I don’t want you to get preoccupied by trying to pick the cheapest garments, Cecelia. Just pick out what you like- money is no object.”
“Are you familiar with the film Pretty Woman?” I spat, barely able to prevent my voice from rising to the level of a shout. “I feel like Vivian Ward.”
“That’s a very unhealthy way to view yourself, Cecelia-…” His blatant annoyance surprised me. “… and it’s a pretty appalling way to view me too. Besides, you know the conclusion of that film. Pick what you like, and if I think you’ve left Bond Street with any regrets, I’ll buy everything and you could end up with something you don’t like and the inevitable feeling of obligation to wear it.”
I battled to swallow down the lump that formed in my throat and shuffled uncomfortably on the spot. “I’m really not comfortable doing this- I’m not likely to ever have the money to pay you back.”
“Do I have to call Lobke to collect me and come to Bond Street to dress you myself?”
“You’re such a fucking megalomaniac!” I snapped, somewhat louder than necessary. Bethany and Lobke giggled behind me and whispered like conspiring school girls at the rail. My voice dropped to an apologetic whisper. “If you’re expecting me to work my way through a collection like this in seven stores, I’m going to have to arrange transport for Bethany. I’m never going to be finished by lunch time.”
“I see. Hang on.” Nathaniel hung up on me abruptly and Bethany’s phone rang within seconds.
“Hello? Nathaniel? Oh really?” She turned around and flashed a Cheshire cat grin at me. “Oh well, thank you very much.” Her forehead creased for a moment before her grin returned with a hint of malevolence. “No, we don’t. You want me to-… No, nothing would make me happier. Laters.” The moment she put her phone down, mine rang again. I whimpered, exhausted by these mind games.
“Hello?”
“Enjoy your shopping spree, Cecelia. Don’t forget that this is an exercise about greed. Bethany now has the whole day off to assist you.” I scowled at my phone and turned away from Bethany’s line of sight.
“She can’t afford all this time off, Nathaniel- she has some pretty appalling credit card bills.” I was being kind- she was in enough debt for three people.
“She’s getting paid. Consider her a personal shopper. Oh, there is a small selection of shoes and handbags for her to choose from at Jimmy Choo.” I almost choked on my own breath.
“What? Why?”
“Well she has more than enough clothes if she’s dressing both of you, and what woman doesn’t like shoes and handbags?” I couldn’t stand the almost abhorrently casual way he spoke about luxuries.
“No, I meant…” I sighed awkwardly and dropped my voice to a whisper again, “I can sort of understand why you’re doing this for me, but why are you spoiling Bethany?” I heard the sound of a drawer open and close, then the tearing of paper.
“Because if she’s happy, you’re happy.” The sentiment stunned me so greatly that my phone nearly slipped from my hand. “Cecelia?”
“Sorry I…” The disappointment that I didn’t have somebody so wonderfully selfless and thoughtful for my own stabbed at me and cast a dark shadow of sadness over my head. “I hope you treat your significant women this well, Nathaniel. I don’t want to start receiving hate mail from neglected lovers.”
“I should say that’s highly unlikely unless you or Bethany develop some sort of multiple personality disorder. Stop talking to me and spend my money, the bank are complaining that I have too much.” Smart arse.
When I re-approached the rack, Bethany had separated the clothes that she knew I’d like the most from the jumbled collection. She smiled smugly and bumped her hip against mine as she admired her handiwork. As ever, her keen eye and knowledge of my tastes had prevailed to create a far less intimidating scene of flawlessly classic outfits that carried not one single ounce of pretention. I had to stop myself from questioning why she had never followed a path into fashion when I remembered that she had not always been a blonde bombshell.
When I met Bethany at school, she had been as dowdy and as studious as I. She loved to read and analyse- her grades were exemplary and she was the face of academic excellence. It wasn’t until we found our way to London to start university that her attention was bought by fanciful young men with raging libidos. A home bleaching kit and black kohl may have been her first steps into her visual transformation, but she had never traded on her ambitions. She wanted to be where Nathaniel sat one day, and I knew that it would happen for her.
“You’re reminiscing about how awesome I am again.” She wove an arm around my shoulders and forced a mass of coat hangers into my hand. “Nathaniel told me to be a bad influence. You’ll thank me for this.”
And a bad influence she was. By the time we saw Lobke off from the door of our house at three o’clock, I was quite sure that I had knocked one of the billions off of Nathaniel’s bank account. The items he had picked in each store had been superbly well suited to my image and I had struggled to dismiss most of what was on offer. It transpired that everything I had left behind had been picked by Lobke, and that left me dumbfounded. Nathaniel Alexander was a dark horse, and between his impeccable taste and his relaxed attitude to the women closest to him, I was starting to suspect that his significant women may really be men.
There was a joyful cackle from the kitchen as Bethany browsed the internet while she pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “Cici, we’re famous!” She turned her laptop around on the service window that divided our lounge from the kitchen and showed me an assortment of pictures of us pacing Bond Street and leaving various shops. The captions conveyed a variety of speculations ranging from us being his ‘significant women’ to me being an abusive and manipulative billionaire heartbreaker.
“What the hell?” My heart sank as a new page loaded pictures of our mezzanine altercation complete with a high quality image of that backhand. I wanted to be seen as an evil dictator even less than I wanted to be seen as a groupie.
“What was all that about?” Bethany stooped down to examine the picture more closely. “You both look furious.”
“Another are-you-fucking-him conversation.”
“Wow, you keep a tough crowd.” She sucked on the back of her teeth and tapped the clock on the corner of the screen. “He always stays in his office until six. You should go and see him- go and edit ‘greed’ while it’s fresh in your memory.” I squeaked in surprise at her suggestion to work and blinked silently for a moment in contemplation. “Go on, off you pop.” My eyes narrowed- she was too eager to get me out of the house. She smiled slyly and fiddled with a fine gold chain around her neck. “Adam is coming over after work.”
“Ah,” I nodded understandingly, “say no more. But try and keep it in your bedroom.”
Nathaniel raised a hand to me when he spied me through the frosted glass wall of the office and jumped up from the chaise longue to open the door. He looked dopey eyed and wholly appreciative for the coffee I passed him as I settled down at the escritoire. “Were you sleeping?”
“Hmm.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sat down wearily at his desk. “I didn’t sleep last night.”
“Want to talk about it?” He didn’t answer but I could tell that he was tempted to offload his stress. “Women? Business?” I smirked and stuck my tongue out at him. “Money?”
He laughed quietly and shook his head. “Women and business.”
“Well.” I settled myself down in my seat and turned to him with a warm smile. “I may not know business but I definitely know women. Oh.” My hand dove into my laptop bag and pulled out a small box. I reluctantly pushed it across the desk with a wrinkled nose- my gesture seemed silly when the man had just spent a fortune on designer clothes for me. “It’s not much, and I’m sure you have dozens, but I just wanted to do something to express my gratitude for your continuous generosity.” I settled down to work on my laptop and vented the wicked satisfaction I felt for spending another’s money on such impractical possessions.
“Cecelia, this is-…” I glanced up at him and smiled as he pulled two solid silver cufflinks from the box and gripped them in his fist.
“I had a jolly good chuckle to myself about the potential issues that could arise from having initials like NA.”
“Says CD.” He scoffed and examined the simple calligraphic lettering engraved into each cufflink.
I groaned and flared my nostrils. “Like I didn’t hear that one a million times at school.”
Nathaniel tucked the cufflinks back into their box and drummed his fingers across its lid. “You could change it. It’s very easy to obtain a deed poll these days.” My hands paused over my laptop and curled into fists. My name was a nonnegotiable asset. It was then, and it would be until the day I died.
“And why would I do that?” He leaned back in his chair impassively and shrugged, blatantly ignoring my foul mood.
“Well Cecelia is so very sophisticated and Douglas is-…”
“The only remaining legacy of my parents, Nathaniel.” I completed his sentence with a hiss and a poisonous glare. “All they left me with was money and my name- and money won’t last forever.”
He stared off into the distance thoughtfully for a while, like I’d proposed something unheard of in proclaiming that money wasn’t finite. “So double-barrel. Douglas-Smith?” My rage eased when I saw the jesting twinkle in his eyes.
“Too corporate.”
“Douglas-Spendlove?”
“Too porno.”
“Douglas-Depp?”
“Too fanatical.”
“Douglas-Alexander?”
I stifled a smirk and picked up my coffee. “Too pretentious.” The air prickled in wake of our repartee. I could virtually see my words thrashing around in his brain. He eventually held his hands up in surrender and closed them around his cup. “Know your battles, Alexander. I’ll carry my parents name to my grave.” I loaded my e-reader app on the laptop and turned it around to tap the cover of a particular book with a sly smile. “It’s a hard limit.”
“Like spray tans?” I nodded and set back to work on the novel.
“Absolutely like spray tans. I’m an English rose and I like it.” I continued to type for a moment before realisation hit me and my face heated. “You know what treatments I had at the spa.” He grinned lewdly and nodded, causing me to shrink down in my place, willing the ground to open up and swallow me.
“It ma
de for very interesting reading. I’m sorry, did you need the bathroom? Stained glass window, remember?”
“Shut up.” I straightened myself out in my seat and put my mind back to work again. Part of me thought that he might be testing my ability to be distracted. “You’re disturbing my flow.”
“Funny, I didn’t think Hollywood waxes left anything to disturb the flow.”
“Oh my god!” I gaped at him and laughed. “You’re too much of a tart to be rich. I demand you give your money back to the stiffs and suits on Wall Street.” I stared at my barely touched excerpt and slammed the lid of my laptop shut. “I’m getting no work done with your crass comments flying around and I have a hot date with-…” I paused to count, “seven men and one woman. No, two women. Maybe eight men if Bethany is still ‘entertaining’ Adam.” I tucked my laptop into its bag and held up a finger. “Nine men. You’ve planted the seeds of Depp in my mind.”
Nathaniel picked up his suitcase and the box containing his cufflinks, then strolled over to the door and held it open with his foot. “Sounds like a busy evening. Can I request that you keep Wednesday and Friday free for me?”
I furrowed my brow falsely, knowing full well that my social calendar was depressingly clear. “Take it up with Armani, baby.”
Glances of confusion and jealousy flew across the office floor as Nathaniel and I paced towards the entrance side by side. We may have even looked like a formidable team as our matching mercury eyes fell disapprovingly on anybody who dared to make eye contact with us. I was enamoured with the self-worth I felt in his company- his influence not only made me a better writer, but a better person too. I was cautiously optimistic over my chances of success with my novel, and Nathaniel was entirely responsible.
“Cecelia?” He reached out and grabbed my hand just as we left the building and were about to part ways. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I smiled at him and slung my laptop bag over my shoulder.