I did a little internal negotiating on whether or not I would feel better/want help/want Dante’s help when something he said struck me.
“What do you mean someone poisoned your sister?”
“They found traces of poison in Cat’s system. That’s why she passed out.”
“But we didn’t have time to eat. I took the food with me when Eddie drove her home.”
“She said she ate the bread.”
“We all ate the bread.”
“And you didn’t get sick?”
“Nope.” But Logan had.
“Dante, Cat’s husband is on the road, right?”
He nodded.
“Are you going to stay with her, at least for now, to take care of her?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
I stood up from the bench. Dante stood too and turned me toward him. He leaned in and I could smell cinnamon on his breath. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep an eye on you. I don’t buy this whole ‘new job’ thing. I don’t know what you’re hiding, but if you’re into something, I’m going to find out.” His brown eyes bore holes into my head. “If this is about you feeling some kind of rush, you’re risking too much.”
He stepped closer to me. I tried to back up but my calf hit the bench I’d been sitting on. There was no place for me to go, and parts of my body were telling my brain they didn’t really want to go anywhere.
“Besides, there are better ways of getting a rush,” he said, running the back of his index finger down the side of my neck and across my clavicle.
I flicked his hand away with a Karate Kid wax-on/wax-off maneuver. “I’m not looking for a rush.”
“Good. Some things are better when you take them slow.”
In the distance, I saw Mallory exit the store. “I have to be somewhere,” I said, which seemed the safest of the things running through my head to say out loud. “Tell Cat I hope she feels better. I’ll come by later this week to check on her.” I walked past him to my car.
“Samantha,” he called out behind me. “Be careful.”
“Of what?” I said, turning around and walking backward for a few steps. “I’m just a buyer for a department store.”
I smiled and then turned away again, feeling the heat of his stare on my back the whole time.
If Mallory wanted to know my qualifications, she was going to have to broach the subject again without my help. As far as I was concerned, I was fully capable of doing this job, even if “the job” involved a few things probably not spelled out in the job description. I met her outside the security entrance and invited her to join me in the car.
She stopped off at a PT Cruiser, pulled a pair of tortoise- framed sunglasses from the center console, and locked the door. She matched my stride to the car, no easy feat considering I was naturally taller than her. Her posture was bent slightly at the waist, causing her to propel forward in an awkward pitch. She balanced expertly upon five-inch platform wedges and came darn close to towering over my five-foot seven frame. I did a double take when I saw the size of her feet. No wonder she could balance on those boats.
We settled into the car and I immediately turned off the stereo, not wanting to blast her with the greatest hits of Tom Jones. I drove from the parking lot to the access road to the highway in silence, wondering who was going to speak first. I side-glanced at Mallory and caught her staring at the compartment between our seats. When we stopped at the next traffic light I followed her stare. Eddie had left the sketches of the Puccetti statue half-rolled up between the seats. I had to teach that boy to clean up after himself.
“Maybe I didn’t ask correctly this morning, but I am curious to know what brings you to Heist,” she said. Her approach was softer than earlier. I wondered what made the difference.
“I’ve been in the industry for more than a decade. I worked at Bentley’s in New York. Just moved here recently.”
“You were their handbag buyer?”
“Shoes.”
“A lot of the same vendors, I suppose,” she admitted. “So why are you here in Ribbon?”
“I grew up here. My parents wanted to move to the west coast, and it seemed like a good idea to buy their house. The one I grew up in.” It sounded so insignificant when trying to explain it to a person who probably wasn’t interested.
“Trying to go home again. Did it work?”
“The jury’s still out.” I changed lanes to let an aggressive driver pass.
“So why Heist?”
I wasn’t sure if I should mention my brief work history with Tradava or not, but she could find out easily enough. “They recruited me after they found out I no longer worked at Tradava.”
“I’m surprised nobody mentioned you worked at Tradava.”
“I was only there briefly.” Mental note: stay vague on the details. “I’m still trying to figure out who gave them my name.”
“It had to be Belle DuChamp. She’s from Tradava, and from what I hear she didn’t leave on good terms. I heard she’s very interested in crushing them.”
“She was fired?”
“You didn’t know? They caught her and the handbag manager getting it on in the board room. That’s why it’s so weird that you showed up. With Emily gone, I figured he was a shoe-in.”
10
I tried to keep the rest of our conversation to a minimum for the duration of the drive, because I couldn’t exactly stop and take notes. What was becoming apparent was that Mallory George was going to be able to offer me a wealth of information if I played the situation correctly.
We arrived at Bag Lady and found Andi Holloway cradling her cell phone between her tipped head and hunched shoulder while she bought a diet RockStar energy drink from a vending machine in the lobby.
“Can’t talk now,” she said into the phone and raised her head. The phone dropped to the floor. She scooped it up and smiled at us. “Thank God! You just saved me from a lecture from my dad. You want one?” She held up the white can as if making a toast.
“No thanks. Mallory?”
“None for me, either.”
We followed Andi past a couple of smaller rooms filled with crocheted hobos and patchwork tote bags. Finally we reached a room merchandised with Vongole’s collection.
Colorful handbags sat on perfectly lit shelves just like at Heist. The shelving features were a milky white Lucite, glowing from hidden lights behind them, highlighting colorful patent leather bags. Clutches with silver hardware in the colors of hard candy lined the wall, but Andi had taken advantage of the negative space on the shelves to break the assortment up into trend stories. I picked up the canary-yellow patent sample and unsnapped the clasp. Soft lilac suede lined the inside. I snapped it shut before it started whispering sweet nothings to me like a seashell from the Jersey shore. On a separate shelf sat a collection of bucket totes with chain link handles and the V logo formed out of Bakelite. Knowing I couldn’t stock Heist with every bag they carried, my job got ten percent harder. And that was on top of trying to figure out who murdered my predecessor.
“I can tell you like what you see. I know. To die for, right?”
“They’re gorgeous.”
“They’re totally freakin’ hot. I mean, look at this. Look at this!” Andi’s energy drink habit had turned her into a one-woman merchant machine. This was the kind of energy level not witnessed since I tried out to be a high school cheerleader, the same day I learned that enthusiasm doesn’t necessarily translate into a perfectly executed cartwheel.
“You don’t need to worry about anything right now. This is just a review appointment, and Belle already called in an order for Heist. She’ll be giving you the details later today or tomorrow or something.” She waved her hand to shoo away a fly.
“Is that normal? That Belle would call in an order?”
“She totally knows what’s right for Heist. You’re sooo lucky to have her with you. Kyle is probably freaking out over at Tradava.”
“If Belle did
my job already, what did you want to cover in our appointment?” I asked, not sure I liked knowing Belle had taken control of the handbag buyer responsibilities so soon after Emily’s murder.
“We’re supposed to be going over your growth plans for Vongole at the store, but Belle said she’d be working on them with you later today.”
I felt my forehead crease with confusion. I stopped myself from pointing out that I was the buyer, not Belle, though she was the general manager of the store, and having worked there for less time than it takes a pie crust to rise, I wasn’t sure I knew enough to challenge the situation.
Andi continued. “She knows the market so well, you know? Belle ran into me in the store, and we got to talking about the inventory. S he called me about an hour ago and told me a couple of items that you needed. She didn’t want to miss out on a delivery while you got up and running in the job. I had what she wanted—don’t worry, if I didn’t, I’d probably steal it from somebody else’s to keep you in stock—we have such a good partnership with Heist!”
She turned to Mallory, who had been standing to my left for the majority of the appointment, meek as a mouse. Not the confrontational employee I’d seen this morning at the store.
“I’ll send you the order in an e-mail,” Andi said. “You just have to get me a purchase order and I’ll ship. Okay?”
I honestly wasn’t sure if it was okay, but it was too soon to know. This was not the time to pretend to be more in charge than I might be. Maybe Belle did have the ability to place orders without me. I knew of other retailers who allowed the general managers to supplement their stock with special buys. I wondered if Emily Hart had stood up to Belle and gotten in the way. Would that be cause for murder? And how much business could possibly be lost between Emily’s death and my starting in the job? And had Belle been trying to hide something from me when she thwarted my efforts to see the store?
I apologized to Andi for not being ready with the Vongole growth strategy and asked if she could spend the balance of the appointment reviewing the upcoming deliveries. She agreed and walked us through the samples. Apparently everything in the showroom was already on order; Emily—or whoever had been writing the orders—didn’t have much of an editorial eye. But considering how luscious these handbags were, I didn’t think we’d have a problem selling them, especially at Heist’s customary discounted prices. Occasionally I asked Mallory’s opinion. With a little encouragement she offered up her thoughts, which were strikingly on target. She had a good knowledge of the trends and of the business, but I don’t think she would have said a word during the entire appointment if I hadn’t point blank prompted her.
Andi, on the other hand, seemed put off by my inviting Mallory to participate in the conversation. When the appointment closed in on an hour and a half, we had to leave. I had a meeting scheduled with Belle back at Tradava, and I was eager to ask her about the orders she’d placed.
Andi handed Mallory a shiny blue folder filled with line sheets and prices. “Here’s everything you need on the collection. E-mail me the order tomorrow and I’ll ship.”
Mallory glanced my way. I tipped my head ever so slightly, allowing her to answer for herself. I was curious.
“It’s a busy week. I can have it to you by Friday.”
“How about Thursday by noon? I can get the orders in the system by the end of the day and we can ship on Friday. You’ll have the merchandise by the following Monday.”
“I don’t know if Thursday is going to happen. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Okay, but you don’t want to let this one slip. There are others out there that will snatch this up!” Andi’s smile hid an undercurrent of urgency. Her casual haven’t-we-been-friends-forever? attitude most likely took her a long way in selling the collections she represented, and judging from what we’d walked past, Vongole was the shining star in her showroom. The other collections mirrored what I’d seen in junior shops and flea market warehouse venues, the kind that cost pennies on the dollar to produce. I wanted to hear how she’d landed the Vongole account, but that was a conversation for another day.
“Don’t forget to calculate the 40 percent discount off of the cost,” she said as we were leaving the showroom. I wasn’t sure I heard right.
“Forty percent from cost?” I said, halfway through tying the square knot on my trench coat. “Industry standard is five.”
“I know. It’s sooo much better than what everybody else offers. But like I said, we have such a great partnership with Heist that we totally want to make sure you have room to sell at those criminal prices and still make high margins. Belle negotiated the whole thing with the owner. It’s insane, but good for her. And you,” she added as an afterthought. “Bye!”
Mallory and I walked to the car in silence. I wanted to take notes, but there wasn’t time. I needed to plan for these things better. I needed a pocket tape recorder or a solo trip to the bathroom or something. I started the drive back to Tradava.
“So, what did you think?” I asked Mallory.
“I don’t know that we need everything in the showroom, but I’m sure everything will sell once we slap that discount on there.”
“Is that the discount we get from everyone?”
“No. Vongole is by far the highest.”
“I thought Vongole was the new It-Bag designer.”
“They are. They have lots of press from the celebrities carrying them. It’s the kind of word of mouth that Marc Jacobs and Chloe bags used to get.”
I’d read enough magazines to know that the perfect storm of new product plus hot celebrity endorsement could launch a marketing frenzy. Witness Jennifer Lopez and the Manolo Blahnik Timberland bootie—the one from the Jenny on the Block video. When I was buying shoes for Bentley’s, we couldn’t keep it in stock, and a pair sold on eBay for eighteen hundred dollars while we were waiting on our reorder. Madness.
“I can’t figure out why they would be willing to give us such a big discount when their product is in such demand. It’s not the smartest strategy. You would think if they were the hottest thing going someone would have the business sense to pull back on their discount and milk us for whatever they could get. I’m not complaining, because it’s good for Heist, but still, doesn’t make sense. Right?”
She was right. The Heist deal was out of the ordinary and Mallory recognized it. Any number of assistant buyers would be so blown away by the low prices on Vongole’s handbags and how great for anybody with an employee discount. Mallory had a way of seeing through the promotional tactics of Vongole and pointing out the imperfections, even if those imperfections were to our benefit. The discount troubled me and I wanted to find out how Belle had negotiated it, but right now, I wondered what else Mallory had picked up on, regarding Heist, Vongole, or Emily Hart.
“What did you think of the assortment?” I asked.
“They’ve got the best range of color I’ve ever seen. That showroom is like a candy store.”
“That’s what I thought, too.”
“The bags look better in there than in our store.”
Again, she was right. Heist’s assortment looked good, following the same minimalist merchandising standards as the showroom, but not as good as the samples had looked. Andi was selling the product and Heist was selling the discount.
I stole a quick glance at Mallory. She was looking at a spreadsheet in the three-ring binder on her lap. On more than one count, she’d demonstrated her value to the office. I wondered, could she do my job? Was she in line for it? I felt a pang of guilt, knowing I not only hadn’t applied for the job, I wasn’t even doing it for the sake of doing it well. My time at Bentley’s had trained me how to be a successful buyer, but I’d also learned that the job took more than a skill set. It took passion and dedication.
I’d already acknowledged once that being a luxury-goods buyer for a large retailer wasn’t my passion, but there was something about the ever-changing world of the fashion that was in my blood. I was still trying to fin
d my place in the industry. Did Mallory have more passion for this position than I did?
We returned to the store and went into our separate offices. I had a few spare minutes before meeting with Belle and took full advantage of them to transcribe my notes for later. Well, right after I buried my nose in my very attractive calla lilies and thought about what I would say to Nick later that night.
I popped my head into Mallory’s office and told her I’d be in meetings with Belle for the next couple of hours. That should give her the time to work on the Vongole orders.
“Do you think you can get the orders to her by Thursday, or is that going to be a problem?”
“I can ‘totally’ get the orders to her by Thursday.” She used finger quotes around totally and I laughed. “I just don’t think the vendors should get into the habit of thinking we’re at their beck and call. We’re the customer, not them. I think Andi sometimes forgets that.”
11
The executive offices of Heist’s management were one floor above mine and down a carpeted hallway. Belle’s secretary was busy tapping at the keyboard of her computer. Before I could introduce myself, the ash-blonde woman smiled at me.
“Go on back, she’s expecting you.”
I thanked her and walked down the hall to the large corner office.
Several men and women in professional attire sat around the rectangular glass table by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Belle sat at the end, with a notebook by her side, a calendar in front of her, two cell phones and a BlackBerry next to them. This was a woman who didn’t want to miss a beat.
“Join us,” she said. She waved a hand toward a chair behind two of the men. “This is the store’s team of executives.” She gave me a blanket introduction to those assembled at the table. “This is Samantha Kidd. She’s someone to watch. I asked her to join us so we could get her up to speed on what Heist is all about. It’s a crash course on our identity,” she joked.
For the next hour I listened to the team that ran the store. A blonde in a too-tight suit and too-tan cleavage brainstormed with Belle about upcoming events and ways to keep people coming back to the store. Another women, in a black polo shirt and jeans, made a few comments on the store’s opening expenses. And a man in a wrinkled linen shirt and faded khakis brought up the store’s promotional contest, the event that had brought me to them in the first place.
Diane Vallere - Style & Error 02 - Buyer, Beware Page 7