by Lila Monroe
“All right,” he says, nuzzling into my neck. “Sounds fun.”
I just hope he’s right.
20
Gemma
- Day 10 -
I wake up the next morning in Zach’s bed.
I reach for him and only find cold sheets; he’s in the shower already. That he let me sleep in is sweet. Also, a little disappointing. Because waking up with a bang is always a good way to start the day.
I yawn, and reach for my phone, smiling until I see the text from Arielle: “Tonight’s the night! Got your gracious loser face ready?”
She’s sent a picture of what I think is an Architectural Digest cover of a sleek and shiny apartment reminiscent of Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s all gloss and angles with cold furniture that looks hard and uncomfortable. Not my style but definitely high fashion. Expensive.
Why is she sending me this?
Wait. I realize, it’s not random. Not a magazine cover. The caption is: Kent’s Loft.
Oh shit.
She’s really bringing her A-game—however spiky and unwelcoming that game is.
I quickly hop out of bed and start taking strategic photos of Zach’s apartment, until he wanders out of the bathroom. “What are you doing?” he asks, looking drop-dead gorgeous with just a new, fresh, fluffy towel wrapped around his waist.
Getting caught gathering secret pictures for the bet feels … dirty. And not dirty in a good way.
I smile at him, hoping I don’t look as guilty as I feel. “I’m just taking some photos for my portfolio.”
He smirks. “Naked.”
I look down. “Sure, what of it?” I strike a pose. “I take my best pics like this.”
“Oh really?” Zach’s eyebrows waggle.
I flush. “Not like that!” I laugh, shoving him lightly. “Those kinds of pics are definitely not happening.”
“That’s OK.” Zach pulls me closer. “I like the live show, myself.”
“Uh huh?”
He suddenly lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. And, whoops, is that the towel dropping to the floor?
It’s a very long time before I remember my name, let alone the bet.
Good morning, indeed.
* * *
After Zach delivers two orgasms (and breakfast), I stop at my place to change and then head into the office. When I get there, I open up Arielle’s photos, looking at them more closely.
I almost wish I hadn’t. They are that good—not just the apartment itself, but the photoshoot. It looks professional, like those shoots for glossy magazines and blogs, with perfect lighting and everything staged just so. It doesn’t look like anyone even lives there, but I guess that’s not the point.
If she’s aiming for perfection, she’s got it made.
I upload my own photos, and start assembling a slideshow of before and after pics. They’ll never look as good and slick as Arielle’s, but I think they show just how far Zach’s place has come along. The furniture and styling is cool, with some fun retro touches like a vintage record player and mid-century chairs that Zach loves.
I mean, does Arielle’s client really love spotless white side chairs and a weird statue in the middle of the room?
Serena’s smart. She’ll look for the substance behind the photos, I reassure myself. She’ll also see behind Arielle’s photoshopping to get that Zach’s place doesn’t just look geat, but it’s comfortable for actually living in, too. Because that’s most important part, right?
I save the presentation to our office drive, trying not to worry about how it’s going to play out. Serena’s final decision will be made when she sees the guys in person at the gala, but the lifestyle stuff will still factor in. I don’t think she will be dazzled by the gloss.
What she will be dazzled by is Zach. I had Emilio put a rush on the suit we ordered. He’ll be every bit the GQ model I tease him about.
Hell, it’s not really teasing, he really is that hot.
I do a quick mental tally—Kent versus Zach. Zach may not have had pink hair and piercings, but the end result is still way better. Especially if personality and outlook is a factor, which I hope it is. Look at how far he’s come in just ten days!
The more I think about Zach, the more proud I am of his progress—not just because of the bet, either. He’s really made a fresh start, and I just feel happy I was able to help him along. After all, that’s the part of my job that really matters—making someone feel like anything is possible, that they can make a move, and create the life they want.
Still, while I’m eager for Serena to decide the winner tonight, I’m also looking forward to tomorrow when I can get back to reality. Then my relationship with Zach can really begin. I still have nagging feelings about the bet and keeping it from him, but Eve is right—he’ll think it’s funny and appreciate all I did for his image.
“Gemma, hey.”
I turn to see Serena coming toward me, a big smile on her face. She’s only in for the morning since the gala’s tonight so she’s dressed down in jeans and a casual shirt. “I can’t wait for tonight.”
“Me neither,” I agree. “The gala’s going to be amazing.”
“It’s always a good time,” Serena agrees. “And I’m looking forward to making the big announcement about our expansion plans. Speaking of … how is your entry coming along?”
He’s a person, not a portfolio, but I don’t want to disagree, so I tell her, “I uploaded my presentation photos, and my client will be coming to the gala, too.”
“Good,” she nods. “I’ll look at them this afternoon, so I can evaluate the lifestyle portion. Though I’m eager to see your projects live.” She says the word ‘projects’ while doing air quotes.
I don’t like her thinking of Zach that way, but I just smile. She is my boss, after all. “Where is Arielle?” I ask, looking around.
“I don’t know.” She frowns and pulls out her phone. “Oh, here’s a text from … she’s … oh wow!”
My stomach clenches. “What?”
“She’s getting her guy fitted.”
She holds her phone toward me and the whole screen is filled with a full-length shot of Kent in what I presume he’ll be wearing to the gala. It’s full on Moulin Rouge: a tux with tails, red satin lapels and vest. Stylish and bold, especially when a tall top hat completes the outfit. It looks like a staged photo of a movie star. Of course it does.
I whistle in appreciation. Because I can’t help but admire Arielle’s taste and how cool he looks.
Even though it means I might just be screwed.
Serena must clue in because she puts her phone away and gives me a comforting smile. “I have faith in you, Gemma. You see what you’re up against, now bring your A game.”
I sigh.
She laughs. “You got this. I know you do.”
I love her confidence in me. I just wish it was contagious.
And I wish my shot at promotion wasn’t riding on all these secrets, too.
* * *
When I get home, I check in with Zach that he’s on-schedule, then start the process of getting gala-ready. After I get out of the shower, I glance at my phone. Arielle’s sent a photo of Kent at the spa, getting what looks like a facial, mani, and pedi from an entire posse of estheticians. Of course it’s a selfie with her in the foreground looking smug. The caption is: #youregoingtolose.
“Whatever,” I say out loud, pushing the phone away as I reach for my Sephora samples. “We don’t need all that stuff to look amazing. And I can spell, too.”
I turn my attention to my outfit for the night. But since no decision can be made without proper consultation, I Facetime Zoey.
“I can’t decide what to wear!”
“Moulin Rouge, right?” she asks. I can see from the background that she’s in her food truck, probably setting up for a night of business. Brunch is an all-day affair to her.
“Do I wear the Westworld bordello costume from last Halloween?” I ask. “Or the French Maid costume? O
r should I ignore the theme and do something classy and sleek? And is it weird I have multiple turn-of-the-century slutty outfits to choose from?”
She laughs. “Not weird at all! What’s Zach wearing?”
“I figured he’s be most comfortable in a regular suit. Custom, but still … Arielle’s got her guy in a tux with tails and a top hat—like a ringmaster.”
“Oh. That’s … bold.” Zoey winces.
“Exactly. Should I go way OTT to make up for it, or will I just wind up looking like a video extra from Lady Marmalade?”
“Hmmm … I think at this point you have to just go with it.” Zoey decides, whisking something. “Trust yourself. I mean, I’m sure you did a good job, but do you think you did a good job?”
I think about the non-tomato crushing skinny jeans and all the things we ordered from Emilio. Also, how Zach looks sans beard and with his well-cut hair. The fact is, he looks amazing. And I’m not just biased—he’s fucking gorgeous. I shouldn’t think of him relative to Kent’s transformation.
“Yes,” I say confidently. “I know I did a good job. And I think he is happy with the result, which is really what’s most important.”
“That’s my girl,” Zoey cheers. “It’ll all work out, I know it will. Now. Show me what we’re working with, while I get this soufflé in the tiny oven.”
In the end, we decide on the bordello outfit, because it’s not slutty if it’s historically accurate. It’s a red and black corseted dress that’s longer in the back and slit high up the side. Underneath, I’m wearing fishnet stay-up stockings and I finish the outfit with long black satin evening gloves and sky-high stilettos.
I tuck a few red feathers strategically into my updo, finishing just as Zach knocks at my door.
There. All I need is a penniless playwright to sweep me away. But I’ll settle for a surprisingly-not-penniless game developer instead.
There’s a knock, and I open up to find Zach in the hallway.
“Holy fuck,” his jaw actually drops “Gemma …”
I blush.
“You clean up pretty nice yourself there, GQ,” I say, meaning it. He’s wearing the navy bespoke suit that is expertly tailored and makes him look like a million bucks. His hair is combed back, and he’s clean shaven and looks so good, I almost want to throw in the towel on the bet and take him straight to my bed.
“Ready to go?” he asks, offering his arm.
“Just one thing,” I pause, then lean up to kiss him. I melt into the moment, loving every second; the way he feels against me.
Zach slips his hands around my waist, deepening the kiss. “Just how punctual do we need to be?” he asks suggestively, sliding one hand over my ass.
I duck back, laughing. “Later,” I promise. “I need to impress my boss.”
“Then let’s go,” he says, taking my hand. “You’re going to kill it.”
I grab my clutch and keys, and realize that he’s right. Because even if I lose the bet, I’ll have the best guy in the city on my arm, and that’s a pretty amazing consolation prize.
It’s definitely going to be a good night.
21
Gemma
- Day 10 -
The gala is being hosted at a fancy hotel downtown. Outside, there’s a red carpet for photos of all the arrivals, and the minute we step into the lobby, we’re surrounded by the toast of the West Coast society scene. I have to gawk at all the amazing costumes: there are hoop skirts, wild print tuxedos, and even someone dressed in an exact replica of Nicole Kidman’s stunning red gown.
“When you said this thing was fancy, I didn’t think you meant … this.” Zach murmurs, guiding me towards the ballroom.
“Right?” I agree, trying not to look too excited. And then we step into the main event space, and my attempts at playing it cool go right out the window. The massive ballroom has been transformed: the walls are draped in red velvet, there’s a full band playing on-stage, and dotted throughout the room are platforms where circus performers are doing amazing tricks, decked out in full, sparkling costumes.
It looks amazing – and that’s even before I get to checking out the guests. Even though the event has just begun, the room is already full near to bursting with A-listers. Obviously, this is the it gala of fashion and it’s all I can do to keep from pulling out my phone to take pictures of everyone in their amazing and inventive outfits—no one wanting to be outdone. It makes me realize I was right to wear the bold outfit.
“Do you want to get a drink?” Zach asks, looking around. “I think I see the bar over there, behind the contortionists.”
“Sure.”
He takes my hand, and I follow him across the room – until I realize, shit, this is a work event. PDAs are definitely out of the question.
I awkwardly release his hand, and just in time, because James spots us from across the room and makes a beeline for me.
“Gemma! Zach!” he exclaims, giving me a hug and shaking Zach’s hand. Once he’s done with the greetings, he steps back and whistles as he looks us both over, declaring: “Day-um! You two look fantastic!”
He looks great himself in a skinny suit and a top hat that’s set at a perfectly jaunty angle.. “Have you seen Arielle and her …” he darts a glance at Zach and then back to me. “… friend?”
“Not yet,” I say, scanning the crowd, but it’s dark and there are so many people in costume that it’s impossible to pinpoint them.
“He looks good, but not …” he glances at Zach again. “Anyway, I should go find Simon before he drinks too much and hits on Anderson Cooper. Again.”
“Oh?” I ask distractedly, still looking around for Arielle.
“Gemma!” James pulls my attention back to him. “You got this. Seriously. You know what I mean.” He winks.
I do. But Zach doesn’t. Nor do I want him to, so I wave James off and mutter something about being starving as I grab Zach’s arm and tug him over toward the food tables.
“What was that all about?” he asks.
“Hmm?”
“James,” Zach says. “Being weird.”
I grab a little puff pastry thing. “Oh, you know … Just James being James.”
I hate lying, but we’re so close to the finish line, now. Later tonight, after the gala, I’ll tell him everything. We’ll have a good laugh and then it’ll all be behind us.
“So, later,” I say. “We should talk.”
He looks at me sideways. “Are you leaving me for another man? James, maybe?”
I grin. “Definitely not James. But no, nothing like that. Just … you know, stuff.”
He gives me a suspicious look. “Okay.”
I’m not sure whether to be relieved or scared when I see Arielle and Kent coming toward us. Arielle’s in a corset and satin hot pants over fishnets, with a daring feather fascinator dangling over one eye. Her hair is perfect, her makeup flawless. She looks amazing, damn her.
Kent is wearing the suit I saw earlier, so I knew he’d look good, but the photo didn’t do him justice. Because he doesn’t just look good; he looks stylish as hell. And Arielle knows it—I can tell by the smug look on her face. Even more smug than normal.
My stomach lurches with nerves, but there’s nowhere to run and nothing I can do now, so I paste a big, (hopefully) confident smile on my face and turn fully toward them.
“Arielle!” I say as though I’m happy to see her. “You look great! And Kent, you too.” Because I am nothing if not gracious.
“Thanks.” Kent darts a look toward Arielle. “I guess I had to wear something fancy. I mean my grandma is on the board of the Institute. She’s been bugging me to come to this thing forever.”
I blink. Grandma? On the board?
“I mean, she’s eating it up that I’m here,” he continues, grabbing a passing glass of champagne. “I usually blow off all the family bullshit, but maybe it’s not so bad. Especially if she puts me back in the will.”
I laugh, covering it up with a cough. So, our surly bike mess
enger was really just a trust fund kid slumming it, all along.
No wonder Arielle was able to shell out top bucks to get him cleaned up. I figured she was fronting the cash to try and win the contest, but it looks like, grandma was the one footing the bills.
“Woah,” Kent eyes something behind us. “My prep-school roommate is here! BLAKE!” he yells. “Wait till he sees me in this ridiculous getup!” He flounces away without another word.
There’s silence.
“Great guy,” Zach cracks, and I have to hide a grin.
I’m about to turn back toward the food when Serena appears, looking absolutely stunning in a tailored black tuxedo. Her lips are red, red, red, matching her nails.
“Ladies,” she says, approaching us.
“Hi,” I gulp, feeling nervous. “Um, Serena, this is Zach. Zach, my boss, Serena.”
“So you’re the one I need to talk up Gemma to,” Zach says, shaking her hand with a charming smile.
“Only if you think she deserves it,” Serena laughs.
“Oh, she does.” Zach says, sincere. “She’s totally turned my life around. I was a complete mess when she took me on, you wouldn’t have recognized me now.”
“Well, that’s always good to hear.” Serena gives me an approving look. “I love your look tonight.”
“Again, all Gemma,” Zach insists, and I beam.
“Kent’s here somewhere,” Arielle pipes up.
“We already met, with his grandmother,” Serena answers smoothly. “You didn’t mention he was Kent Westerly.”
I can tell from her tone, this means something.
Arielle preens. “Oh, well, you know me. I like to be judged on my work, not my connections.”
Right.
“And to that end, I’m sorry to have to steal Gemma and Arielle away for a few moments,” Gemma says. “Official Styled business.”