by E. J. Larson
Olivia had grasped all of this in a flash. She headed for the already slightly buzzed group of colleagues.
"Hi, I'm Olivia Bishop from the Fairfield Chronicle,” she introduced herself. “Do you mind if I join you?”
Uncertain glances were exchanged within the group. After some back and forth, most of the members looked at a regal middle-aged woman looking down at Olivia. She already suspected what was going on in this group. The leader would decide if she belonged or not. Disparagingly, the woman eyed her outfit. Quite deliberately, Olivia had chosen a grey and white ensemble with red highlights from her favorite label, Banemane. In this attire, she always felt confident and casual enough to defy any snobs she happened to encounter in her business. Here, however, she was facing a very special alpha female. Though she didn't feel like it, she put on a confident smile. Make them believe there was no doubt at all that she was worthy of inclusion in this illustrious circle. She had no need to curry favor with them or even suck up to them.
“All right, Olivia Bishop. I'm Rosalind Sullivan from NoCigar. You must be Delia Gupta's successor then,” she concluded.
Wow, that must have really made her the highest ranking member of the press in the house, Olivia noted in awe. NoCigar was an independent magazine that was published quarterly nationwide in glossy. She dreamed of one day working there herself, because NoCigar didn't shy away from critical opinions. There was no doubt in the Fairfield Chronicle's mind that her report had to be positive. Only how positive could she decide for herself or depend on the quality of the hospitality, as many colleagues did. Her predecessor was probably also the reason why her contributions should become positive. Delia Gupta had occasionally criticized designers or other members of the industry in her articles. And then she had disappeared from one day to the next. Editor-in-chief Lois Alban was not going to take that risk again.
“Yes, that's right,” Olivia returned, looking interestedly into the eyes of those present in turn. Did they know anything about Delia that hadn't been in the papers?
No one stirred. Her curiosity as to Delia's fate remained unsatisfied. What she did know was that Delia was a daughter of the Guptas-a family that controlled the fabric trade beyond Fairfield's city limits. They were the ones who made exclusive contracts with the university, and they were the ones who funded the entire design degree program. If even her daughter hadn't been safe, Olivia was even less so. She had now tentatively started her job in the newsroom. Having passed her first probationary exam, she occasionally mingled in the conversation with little interjections.
“I know you from somewhere,” a woman finally said, eyeing her suspiciously for a while.
“Possibly,” Olivia returned casually. She'd been hanging around fashion events in the area for years.
“Aren't you the one from Flourish Hats?” she pushed afterwards.
“Yes, it's my blog,” Olivia admitted, returning her provocative look. Denying her website would never have occurred to her. But an unforeseen shift was taking place within the flock. The sheep moved a few inches away from her, reorienting themselves to their leader. Olivia smirked. What she had achieved with the site was something hardly any of the other group members could claim. She squared her shoulders and slid her most important metric after it. “180,000 visitors a month come just to read my posts.”
“Not bad, Bambi,” Rosalind returned with an approving nod. “Our Evelyn is a bit biased, but if she knew her own access numbers, she'd have to bow down to you. Or do you think your posts on Eastcoast Fashion reach such numbers?”
The woman addressed threw Olivia a disapproving pout and shook herself in lieu of a reply.
“Anyway, I'm going to go take a look around then,” Olivia declared after winning the war of position and marched off while she had the upper hand. Situations like this could get ugly fast. She wasn't in the mood for any more arguments with strangers that night, where it was all about who had the longer pen. She had arranged to meet one of her new coworkers at Lace later that evening, and she was looking forward to being herself there again. Her best friend Amber would come with her and they would end the week together.
A man had stopped in the doorway of the elevator because he saw her coming.
“Thank you.” She threw him her most dazzling smile and stepped inside. The Runway was two floors above them. Olivia had no desire to scramble up the free-floating stair installation in her spiky heels and heavy equipment as most of the other guests did. As soon as she'd entered, she'd spotted the two elevators located slightly away from the bluish-lit area.
“You're welcome,” the man returned as his eyes roamed over her. He was a few years older than her, wearing a suit from HiM's spring collection, and his prominent cheekbones gave him something aristocratic. “You've got a heavy load to carry, and what kind of man would I be if I didn't at least make it easier for you to climb the ladder.”
She smirked and tilted her head.
“Very thoughtful of you,” she returned.
The door closed and the unadorned industrial elevator began to move. Slowly and with heavy groans it went up. A squeak sounded. The steel cage faltered. Surely the doors would open in a moment and they had reached the top floor, she reassured herself. But instead the light flickered for a moment and then went out. Olivia flinched and collided with the man in shock.
“Take it easy,” he reassured her as she struggled with her pounding heart.
“What a bummer,” she grumbled, “I hate it when that happens.”
“Does this happen to you often? Maybe I shouldn't have taken you after all.” She heard his smirk in the darkness and breathed out the tension haltingly.
“Occasionally,” she admitted. “Technology doesn't like me very much. Luckily I could bribe my computer with cookies to reliably do its job, otherwise I'd probably have to learn a traditional craft.”
She thought of her friend Amber, whose vocation was restoring old pieces of furniture. The furniture never complained when Olivia approached it, but she could almost certainly make any machine break down completely if she just used it long enough. She didn't usually get stuck in elevators, though. Olivia was about to lean against the wall when a strong arm reached through behind her back.
“Excuse me, I just wanted to…" he began. The sentence remained unfinished, because at that moment the lights came back on and the cabin jerkily started moving again.
“That's all right. Whatever you did worked. Thanks.”
“I didn't actually do anything,” he admitted, looking deep into her eyes. “I guess it must have been your engaging aura that convinced the old steel pile after all.”
“As long as he doesn't swallow us yet,” she joked, trying to cover her uncertainty. The doors opened. With a nod, she said goodbye and disappeared into the crowd.
“Livie, is that you?” a shrill voice called from behind her. She looked around.
“Caroline,” she returned the greeting, giving her fellow blogger two kisses on the cheeks. “It's so good to see you here.”
“Likewise. You look stunning. Do you mind if I take your picture?”
“Sure, if you link me.”
This reaction was second nature to her. Reciprocal linking was incredibly important for organic blog growth. It increased search engine rankings and generally led to increased traffic. Caroline and she had arranged several times in the past years for joint actions and series of posts.
Looking for a suitable background for the photo, she scanned the open space. A perimeter railing separated the area to which the event's guests had access from the facilities used to generate energy. One corner was not quite so busy.
“Come on. It's great over here.” She grabbed Caroline by the elbow and pulled her along. Once there, she set down her luggage and threw herself into one of her usual poses.
“What are you wearing?” her acquaintance asked and started taking notes with a pen on her tablet.
“Banemane from the current fall collection,” Olivia returned routine
ly. “The shoes are from Spell.”
“I would have known,” Caroline returned with a grin. Shoes were her hobbyhorse. She practically lived for memorizing all the shoe collections. “Shall we head over? The show's about to start.”
Together they made their way to the press area in the front rows at the floor-level catwalk. From there they could take photos undisturbed and got to see everything that was happening on stage. The industrial flair continued here as well. Turquoise tape with LEDs marked the course of the catwalk on the floor, reminiscent of a runway.
“I'm curious to see which plane takes off today,” she mused, turning to Caroline.
“My money is on Kia Heung, her designs are killer,” the blogger replied.
“True, she's not bad, but I also think Travis Munro has a good chance,” Olivia replied, not liking Kia Heung too much. Her designs were too arty and she used almost exclusively cotton fabrics, which was quite comfortable in everyday life but looked mediocre on the runway. Travis Munro, on the other hand, reinvented himself in every design. His boldness in combining materials and the straightforwardness of his designs impressed Olivia. He'd only transferred to Fairfield from the West Coast for his senior year, and in that short time he'd already won a few competitions. Competition at Fairfield University was always fierce, however. Only the top 30 applicants gained entry to the program each year. None of the graduates would settle for second place.
Olivia always kept herself informed about what trends the students at the local university were following and how their designs were evolving. A permanent exhibition of current drawings was open to visitors year-round in the state buildings on campus. But on this night, they would see the best designs of the up-and-coming designers in action. She was insanely excited to see if any of her favorite drawings had been realized.
8. Jasper
THE BASS BOOMED up through the stairwell, making it clear to the last casual passerby that there was a club behind the door. The club was guarded by two bouncers. The line at the entrance was relatively short that night.
“Are we too early, or what?” Jasper asked, addressing the broader of the two bouncers.
“Oh, hi, Jasper. Nah, too soon I wouldn't say.” He held a hand in front of his mouth so others couldn't see what he was saying, and whispered the next words to him almost conspiratorially. “I hear there's a new club being inaugurated somewhere today. Probably a lot of our other guests will be there.”
The colossus at the entrance was called Melvin and Jasper knew him from countless club visits. Sometimes he put in a good word for him with the organizers of events his agency was in charge of and had Melvin hired for the event. One hand washes the other. Melvin was fine, and since Jasper never drank to the point of needing to be removed from a club, they'd never clashed. The bouncer opened the barrier that ensured all the queuing patrons formed an orderly line. Together with Milo, he pushed through. Melvin's colleague opened the heavy steel door that led to the stairwell. At a small window, they paid the entrance fee and descended the stairs to the basement where the hip club was located. Pink and blue lighting gave the room something cool. The hard basses supported this impression. But the dancing guests had heated up the air.
“Sucks, why didn't we know about the new club?” he asked, turning to Milo. Normally Jasper was well informed about the nightlife in his city. It annoyed him that this information had escaped him.
“I don't know, I haven't heard anything about it and there was nothing in the Chronicle.”
“Hm, I'll have a look around,” he ticked off the matter for now. “Do you see your colleague anywhere yet, or are we going to get something to drink first?”
Milo shook his head and made his way to the bar. They shared a drink at the bar. Afterwards, while Milo secured them one of the coveted tables that had just become available, Jasper made a lap around the club. He was setting his sights on the female patrons. There were definitely pretty women present, but none of them particularly stuck in his mind.
When he returned to Milo with his second drink, there were two young women sitting at the table with him. One was a blonde with cute freckles on her nose who looked as if she had come straight from the catwalk. The other was a somewhat tomboyish dark-haired woman whose sporty outfit made Jasper wonder how she had made it past Melvin's watchful eyes. Then again, Melvin had let Milo in, after all.
“Hey Jasper, this is Olivia and her friend Amber,” Milo explained with a grin as wide as if he'd just won the lottery. Maybe he liked one of the girls. The blonde was prettier in the classic sense than her athletically dressed friend, but you never knew with Milo. He probably liked her better, of all girls. But this one wore the cooler shirt. Cool fonts, casual slogan and it was very attractively placed. The designer knew his business. His eyes were immediately drawn to it.
“Hi, I'm Jasper,” he introduced himself guardedly, though Milo had already called his name loud enough to let everyone around him know.
“Olivia, I work with Milo at the Chronicle,” the blonde returned softly. Her voice sounded like a thousand little bells singing a melody. Yes, she was cute, but even at that moment he knew she wasn't for him.
“And I'm Amber, her roommate,” the dark-haired girl added.
“And my best friend,” Olivia now added.
Amber rolled her eyes and smirked, making her like Jasper even more.
“Like she always has to explain why she hangs out with me.”
“Tell me, what do you do?”, Milo asked her with interest. Since he wasn't usually the type for deep conversations, I guess he actually took a liking to his colleague's girlfriend. Somehow, she suited him. With his black jeans, he wouldn't be able to convince any fashion-loving lady of his inner qualities anyway.
“Oh, boring stuff. I restore old furniture, paintings and stuff like that,” Amber admitted with a sideways glance at her friend. “Olivia always has much more exciting things to talk about. Tell me, how was the show?”
Baffled by the abrupt change of subject and focus, Milo's jaw dropped. However, he regained his composure quickly enough that the two girls didn't notice, as they continued their chatter.
“It was actually pretty cool. I met a journalist from NoCigar and the show itself was pretty impressive. The location was killer, but why Alex Kant won in the end is beyond me.” Olivia smiled meekly, at this Jasper didn't have a clue what she was even talking about. Milo, meanwhile, looked very interested again. However, his interest was not in his colleague's story, but in her companion's neck. Bouncer Melvin had been wrong. The club filled up briskly after the arrival of Milo's acquaintance. “When I had to interview him, Kant acted like he'd never had an education.”
Shaking her head, the talkative blonde turned to further details of her evening. Jasper's attention turned to a group of attractive women sauntering past their table. His gaze followed the long slender legs. The woman with the longest legs wore the shortest skirt he had ever seen. Fascinating views.
To his regret, he was not granted the opportunity to follow three more exciting specimens of human females. He couldn't possibly leave Milo alone with the two girls, because if he didn't keep his colleague busy, Milo would have to do without the brunette's company for better or worse. Women stuck together. Even if Amber had already been interested in Milo, she wasn't going to let her friend spend a lonely evening at the club. Some not-so-secret girl code demanded that all group members be kept busy.
After another interminable fifteen minutes of talking about topics that didn't interest him, his salvation approached in the form of another group of girls.
“Olivia,” one of the girls squealed, throwing herself at the blonde. “Well, we haven't seen each other in ages. Oh, hi, Amber. So you two are still friends?”
Now it was getting interesting. Maybe he didn't even want to go hunting now.
“Hilary, Shawna, Stephanie, hi,” Olivia replied, not missing the little tip. “Yes, of course we are.”
“I just thought... Well, I wouldn't hav
e taken that so easily, but if you can,” the leader of the other group hinted.
“Why don't you join us?” now demanded Amber, who seemed to be above the affair that was just going on between those present.
“Guys, would you be so kind as to get us something to drink?” Olivia asked with a sugary sweet twinkle in her eyes. Jasper picked up the ball and queried the drink requests. If he could escape this peculiar situation by paying a ransom, he would put up with this minor inconvenience.
“I'll help you carry,” Milo offered loudly and jumped up.
“Wow, what kind of hyenas are those? And why were they asked to sit down?” Milo asked in horror when they had left the girl clique out of earshot.
“Sounds like old girlfriends with a dirty little secret they don't want us to know,” Jasper explained with a shrug. He was curious, but not curious enough to volunteer to go back to the battlefield.
He ordered and paid for the sinfully expensive drinks. His gaze roamed the room while the bartender took care of it. Together with his buddy he brought the drinks to the girls' table.
“Enjoy yourselves. I hope you'll excuse me,” Jasper drawled out. Milo looked at him for help, but he didn't need any assistance at all, because Amber jumped up from the table.
“Do you want to go for a dance by any chance?” she asked him, pulling him along by the arm before he could answer. Astonished, he watched the two of them go. Sometimes fate helped even the unlucky ones... Milo was granted.
He pushed his way through the denser crowd, keeping his eyes peeled for the short skirt or an alternative. He stopped at one of the railings that separated the seating area from the dance floor. In front of him, a few dancers moved to the hard rhythm of a current hit from the electro scene. A shapely ass magically attracted his attention. Only at second glance he realized that it was clothed by the very short black skirt he had seen before. There were those endlessly long legs again. A narrow waist and shapely breasts completed the body. He hadn't caught a glimpse of her face yet because blonde strands kept flying around. Still, he was admittedly more interested in the other areas of her body.