In the dressing room, Chloe got each of us a glass of champagne and a glass of ice for Blackwell. Lisa and I felt so bad for Chloe, we thanked her profusely while Blackwell popped a cube into her mouth, bit down hard on it, and then took a sip of her champagne. And when she did that? She screwed up her face. “It’s flat,” she said. “Send it back, Chloe—try again.”
“Oh, it is not flat,” I said.
“The hell it isn’t.”
“We all heard that bottle pop.”
“That pop could have been the bottle’s death.”
“If that’s the case, then why is your glass filled with bubbles?”
“Are they bubbles? Or a series of last gasps?”
I ignored her and looked at Chloe, who already seemed undone despite the fact that she knew exactly who she was dealing with since she’d been working with Blackwell for years and was used to this kind of treatment.
“The champagne is fine, Chloe,” I said. “In fact, it’s delicious.”
“Says the farmhand from Maine...” Blackwell said.
“God, you’re impossible.”
“Of course I’m impossible. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.” She looked at Chloe and deepened her voice. “Bring out the gowns,” she said to her. “We’ll begin with what you have in store for Lisa.”
“Of course, Barbara,” Chloe said, and then she moved through a door and disappeared from sight, likely to take one mother of a Xanax.
“Stop being such a bitch,” I hushed at Blackwell.
“Oh, please—you love it! And besides, Chloe knows that I’m mostly only joking, so lighten up.”
“She’s starting to go pale,” Lisa said.
“Then perhaps she should find a better foundation that’s more suited to her skin tone.”
“Here is my first choice,” Chloe said when she reentered the room with a deep red gown slung carefully over her arms. She moved to the center of the room, hung it on a stand so it was reflected in the mirrors that surrounded it, and then stepped back so all of us could have a better look.
“I love it,” Lisa said.
“You’d love the first donkey set free from the barn,” Blackwell said as she stood. “Though I have to admit, it is pretty.” She locked eyes with Chloe. “Alexander McQueen?”
“It is.”
“His crystal-embellished bustier gown?”
“That’s right.”
“The one featured in this month’s Vogue?”
“The very one—and it’s so new, we’re the only establishment in the city to have received it.”
“Hyperbole!”
“It’s true.”
“I can’t have Lisa or Jennifer showing up in something that some other woman will be wearing—you know how important that is to me.”
“I do, Barbara—that’s why this is my first choice for Lisa.”
“Well, how clever of you...”
Blackwell circled the dress with her glass of champagne in her hand and admired its design. “V neckline,” she said almost to herself. “Square back. Gently ruffled hem. Viscose. Long column silhouette, which was a smart call on your part, Chloe, since Lisa has always been my perfect size zero, something Jennifer will never achieve. If fitted properly, this dress will actually give Lisa a shape.”
“I have a perfectly fine shape,” Lisa said.
“You’re a stick with tits and a menstrual cycle,” Blackwell said. “And you know it. So? Try it on—and then we’ll assess. In the meantime, Chloe, please bring out every other dress you had in mind for Lisa. We’ll see how she looks in this, but I want to see your other choices.”
“Of course,” Chloe said. “I’ll be right back.”
“And here I thought you were about to run,” Blackwell said to her as she sat down on a chaise lounge and fluttered her eyelashes at me.
“Stop it,” I said.
“Never,” she answered. And then she lowered her voice. “Let me just say this again—I’ve known Chloe far longer than I’ve known you, my dear, and she knows that much of this is just an act. We each play our part. I get to have a bit of fun. She gets to run around like a madwoman who ultimately makes a hell of a lot of money. And at the end of the day, we part friends. So, calm down. After the hell these past few days have been for everyone in this city, this sideshow is a necessary distraction.”
“IT’S GORGEOUS,” I SAID when Lisa stepped out of the changing room and stood before us. “Look at how well it already fits her, Barbara—even before there’s been any tailoring.”
“That’s because McQueen understands women like Lisa,” she said. “Thin women who need a bit of trickery to bring out their best. I’ve never dressed you in him because he doesn’t understand that ass of yours or your curves. That said, Valentino and Dior celebrate the kind of body you have, which is why I generally dress you in them. But Lisa was built for McQueen. How do you feel in it, my dear?” she asked Lisa.
Lisa stood in front of one of the mirrors and turned this way and that. And as she did, a slow smile started to spread across her face, which lifted my heart. I loved my best friend, and seeing her happy right now made me just as happy for her.
“I kind of dig it,” she said. “I mean, I get it—it needs to be taken in at the waist and let out at the bust, but this dress rocks. I especially like how the red offsets my blonde hair, but you already thought of that, didn’t you, Chloe?”
“I had it in mind,” she said.
“Then, I’m done,” Lisa said. “This is it.”
“But you haven’t even looked at the other dresses and gowns Chloe chose for you,” Blackwell said.
“This was Chloe’s first choice for a reason,” she said. “And there’s a clear reason why. I don’t need to see the others,” she said as she turned in front of the mirrors again. “Because I already know that Tank is going to fall again for me when he sees me in this one.”
“Then, we’ll take it,” Blackwell said. “Especially if it can finally bring you two to the altar.”
WHEN IT CAME TO ME, Blackwell didn’t even ask Chloe what she had in mind. Instead, all she said was this: “I know that it just came out a few weeks ago, but I’m hoping that when it comes to Jennifer that you have Carolina Herrera’s new sequined illusion tulle ball gown in champagne. From what I’ve seen in photos of it, it’s a work of art, which I believe you’ll agree with.”
“I do. It’s amazing.”
“Then don’t break my heart, Chloe. Tell me you have it. And if you do, tell me how many you have already sold.”
“We have it,” she said. “But we only received one. While I’m certain that Lisa’s McQueen is exclusive to us, I will warn you on this—I’m not sure if other retailers have this particular gown in stock.” Still, she shrugged at Blackwell. “That said, it costs over fifty thousand dollars. Even in this city, not many will be willing to spring on a gown for that price, so the odds are on our side that only Jennifer will be wearing it.”
“There are plenty of people in this city with money, Chloe,” Blackwell said. “Fifty thousand is nothing to them.”
“But will they appear at the same party in the same dress? Isn’t that the main concern?”
“Part of it. What concerns me most is that Jennifer is photographed in it first. So, tell me—have you seen anyone featured in it in the magazines? On the Internet? I scour the tabloids for just this sort of thing. I know that you do, too. I’ve yet to see anyone in it, which isn’t unusual since the dress is so new. Have you?”
“I haven’t.”
“Has anyone phoned or come in to ask for it?”
“Not that I know of, but I can certainly cast a net and find out.”
“We’ll do that later,” Blackwell said. “After we see it in person and decide whether it works on Jennifer—because that’s when it will matter. So, please, take Jennifer with you. I don’t even want to see it first. I just want to see it on her and hopefully be delighted by what I see. Take her away. Put the gown on her.” She poppe
d another cube of ice into her mouth and cracked down it so hard, it sounded like bones shattering.
“And then bring her to me.”
WHEN I STEPPED OUT of the back room and into the interior of our private dressing room with Chloe, who at this point had seen me in my underwear so many times that dressing in front of her was like dressing in front of Lisa or Blackwell, Blackwell gasped and stood up from her sofa.
“Well,” Blackwell said. “Well, well, well. Herrera hasn’t disappointed at all, has she? My goodness—just look at it, Jennifer. It’s divoon over the moon.”
“That’s a new one,” I said.
“Go with it. Now, twirl.”
I turned in front of the many mirrors that were in front of me, and even I had to admit that his gown made me feel like a princess. I think it must have been made for that reason. Everything about it screamed ‘Cinderella.’
“Love, love, love!” Lisa said.
“You think?” I said to her. “Isn’t it too much? I feel like fairies should be swirling around me with needles and thread.”
“Are you joking? It’s fabulous, and it’s worth every penny!”
“I’m not so sure about the cost,” I said. “But I do have to admit that it’s quite something. I especially like how it complements the color of my hair.”
“Please,” Blackwell said. “About the cost—do you have any idea how much work went into this gown? The hand-stitched beading around the bodice and sleeves alone likely took a good month, if not longer. This is a work of art.”
She put her hands on my shoulders and turned me to the left and then to the right while she studied me in the mirrors in front of us. “J’adore the long illusion sleeves,” she said. “And the keyhole back. And the degraded sequin embroidery—it’s sublime. In fact, it’s what I live for! Turn around for us!”
I spun, and the gown fanned out.
“Do it again!” Lisa said.
With a laugh, I did.
“You’re a queen,” Blackwell said. “No one is going to come anywhere near touching you with this gown.” She looked at Chloe. “We’ll take both. Then, naturally, we’re going to have to find the proper undergarments and shoes. Are you prepared to assist us with those, or do you have other clients clipping at your heels?”
“I’m here for you, just as I always am, Barbara.”
“Smart girl,” Blackwell said. “But we’ll need these tailored to each of them by Saturday morning. Can you do that for us?”
“I can.”
“And they’ll be delivered to Jennifer and Lisa on time?”
“They will. We just need to have them fitted. And as it so happens, I’ve reserved a tailor especially for you today.”
“Especially for us...?” Blackwell said.
“That’s right.”
“Then I must applaud you on that, Chloe—well done.”
She turned to Lisa and me. “All right, ladies—to the tailor we go. After that, it’s shoes and Spanx, and then we go to Van Cleef! Because if you truly are going to win the night, then you need a fresh set of diamonds at your ears, wrists, fingers, and throats!”
“Diamonds?” Lisa said. “At Van Cleef? Are you serious? I can’t afford those along with this dress!”
“Please. Not long ago, you signed a five million dollar advance with Wenn Publishing, so I call bullshit on that. It’s time to part with some of your money, my little scribbling hoarder, and I’m ordering you to do just that right now.”
“But Tank will be furious if I spend that kind of money!”
“Oh no, he won’t.” Blackwell walked over to Lisa and took her hands in her own as Lisa stood up to face her. “Because don’t you see? When Tank sees you looking as you will in that dress and whatever jewels we find for you today—and especially after Bernie works his magic on you—Tank is going to fall even harder for you, my dear.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Then you don’t know men. It’s been a while since you two have gone out for a big event such as this, hasn’t it?”
“It’s been months...”
“And during that time, has Tank had the pleasure of seeing you fully done up?”
“Unfortunately, no. I’m always working. Iris is always cracking her whip.”
“Then it’s time for Tank to remember what you can become with the power of couture, jewels, and a good stylist. You’ve seen what I’ve done for Jennifer time and again throughout the past few years. You’ve also seen what I’ve done for you back in the day when you gave a goddamn. Sure, I’ll admit that today will cost you plenty. But since all of us are waiting for a wedding between you and Tank, you must trust me on this—when he sees you after Bernie and I are finished with you? When he remembers just how sexy and beautiful you are with the right touches? Those wedding bells will be ringing far sooner than any of us have imagined. Even you, my dear. Even you...”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WHILE JENNIFER AND Lisa were shopping with Blackwell, Gia and Carlo were preparing to take a video conference call from Stephen Rowe, who had just texted Gia on her TracFone that he’d be live on their computer in ten minutes.
“We need to chat,” he’d texted.
But he’d offered nothing more.
“This should be interesting,” Gia said as they took the stairs to the second floor and entered the media room.
“In fact, this could be it,” Carlo said. “We might get a date for when the Wenns will be out in public next.”
“Let’s hope so, because not only do I want this behind us, but we also have a warehouse waiting for Jones,” Gia said as she sat down in front of the computer with her brother. “And thank God for that—Mario came through again.”
She nodded at the computer. “Turn it on,” she said. “Let’s see what Rowe has to say. If this does have to do with the Wenns and it’s an event that’s happening too soon for us to pull off safely, we’ll decline and tell him that we need at least three days to plan. If he disagrees, we threaten to walk. If he demands that we do it, then we do walk. Because I’m also not going to prison for him, Carlo.”
“Good to hear.”
After Carlo turned on the iMac, opened a secure Web browser, and entered in a numeric code, it was only moments before Rowe’s face flickered upon the screen. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, his curly dark hair was damp and messy, his face was shiny with sweat, and he was far tanner than the last time they’d seen him.
Where is he? Gia wondered. On a boat? Somewhere in the tropics? Where has he disappeared to, and who delivered him to wherever he is now...?
As curious as she was about who had helped him, Gia already knew that she’d never find out—and frankly, despite her curiosity, at the end of the day, she really didn’t care. Rowe was so well connected, whomever had helped him in his time of need was likely someone who owed him one mother of a favor, and they were just powerful enough to pull this one off for him.
He flashed them a smile, which Gia thought was odd. Since when did this son of a bitch smile at them?
“Gia,” Rowe said. “Carlo.”
“Stephen,” they answered.
“I’ve received some news.”
“Can’t wait to hear it,” Gia said.
He swiped a finger beneath his nose and adjusted himself in his chair. And as he did, Gia watched him. The fingers on his right hand were trembling slightly.
From excitement?
“The Wenns will be attending an event this Saturday night at eight o’clock,” he said.
While Gia kept her features neutral, she had to stifle a sigh of relief. Saturday was four days away. This would give Carlo and her plenty of time to plan for it, and also to plan for taking out Jones.
“What’s the event?” Carlo asked.
Rowe spread his hands toward the screen. “It’s one of those big Kate Stone fundraisers,” he said with raised eyebrows. “Have you two heard of Kate?”
“I haven’t,” Carlo said.
Why is he bein
g so animated? Gia thought. He never behaves like this...
“I think I have,” she said. “But I can’t place her face.”
“Let’s just say that it’s a beautiful face,” Rowe said. “Because Kate Stone is something to behold. As if that matters, though it’s true. Here’s the thing—I’m giving you a final chance to kill the Wenns. You blew it the last time, so here is your second and last chance, which I have to say is rather generous of me given the way you let me down with the Witherhouse event. This Saturday, you will end the Wenns’ lives just after you kill Janice Jones.”
“Our final chance?” Carlo said.
“That’s right, Carlo—your final chance. Because if you want my money, this ends on Saturday. I want this over with—as if that’s a fucking secret. And this Saturday, it’s winner takes all. Either you put an end to this then, or you’re off the payroll. So? My advice is that you make it happen.”
“Wait a minute,” Gia said. “Slow down. What are you talking about? This is the first time I’ve heard about you giving us a final chance. And what you’ve just presented to us amounts to nothing. What fundraiser are you talking about? I might have heard of her name, but who in the hell is Kate Stone?”
“Here’s what you need to know in a nutshell,” Rowe said. “Kate was once married to Michael Stone, a computer genius worth billions because he knew things about encryption software that made the business world pop a few hard-ons. He was murdered for reasons I won’t bore you with now—you can just Google that shit if you want the gory details. What matters when it comes to Kate is that she inherited his billions. Being the good person that she is—and likely because she was looking for a safe tax haven—she created the Stone Foundation, which has a major gala every year to support the less fortunate. Isn’t that sweet of her? This year’s soiree is this Saturday—and today I found out that the Wenns will be there.”
“You’re certain about that?” Gia asked.
“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I weren’t certain, Gia. And before you ask where the foundation is, don’t bother. Figure it out for yourselves, because right now? I’m about to go snorkeling. But before I do that, I want to know where we stand when it comes to Janice.”
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