by Kim Baldwin
She hadn’t known precisely when it had happened, the moment her fascination with Kash had gone from lust to love. But it had. Probably fairly early on, she decided. Maybe when Kash had first opened up to her about her past and how she’d been hurt. Or perhaps when Kash had awakened Isa. Not that she’s been out much since. The new sexual side that she’d discovered in Europe had totally disappeared. She enjoyed the attention she got with her new look, new clothes, and more confident attitude. But she’d had no real interest in dating other women since she’d been home. She was still longing for Kash.
Gillian called her a hopeless romantic, and she’d certainly realized the truth in that statement. Once you fall in love, it’s for keeps, hopeless or not. Meeting Kash had made that fact all too agonizingly clear.
She was being utterly ridiculous, she knew, to go on mooning over her this way. Kash probably hadn’t thought about her for two minutes. If she had, she’d have called. Then why did she say that? She could have just said good-bye. But no. Her last words to me had to be those.
“I won’t forget you.”
And I can’t forget you, either, Kash.
Her doorbell startled her so much she jumped. Her heart was thudding at a pretty good clip, but its speed increased exponentially when she opened the large express envelope that the UPS driver had brought.
She wasn’t on the cover at all.
Kash was.
A beautiful, relaxed, and carefree-looking Kash, smiling at the camera in some kind of breezy tropical setting. Her skin was dark from the sun, and she wore a white linen short-sleeved shirt. Nice. Very nice.
The cover caption read IT’S KASH WHO GOT THE MAKEOVER, NOT OUR CONTEST WINNER!
Below it, Miranda had attached a large Post-it note on which she’d written
Hello, Isabel!
Read page 6 first,
then flip to page 23.
– Miranda
The first reference was to Miranda’s Letter from the Publisher page. It had a photograph of her at her desk, with Kash standing behind her. Her missive read:
Dear Readers,
This month’s issue was supposed to feature Isabel Sterling—the winner of our Make Your Dreams Come True contest—as our cover girl, along with an in-depth interview of her and a pictorial spread of the fabulous dream vacation and makeover she won.
You’ll still find the scoop on Isabel’s trip inside (see page 23), but the greatest impact of this adventure was not on the contest winner, but on Kash, who was supposed to be along only to take some pictures and have some fun.
Kash happens to be a friend of mine, which is why she agreed to photograph Isabel’s experience in the first place. But no amount of threats or pleas or cajoling has ever before been enough to convince her to sit down for an interview with Sophisticated Women, let alone agree to be on the cover.
So I was rather surprised, to say the least, when she volunteered for both. Kash says it is all a matter of timing—and that now she has something to say. When you read her story, which follows Isabel’s, I think you’ll agree.
Miranda
Isabel flipped to page 23 and found a two-page collage of images taken of her during her trip. Most were the formal photos she expected, but Kash had included candids as well, including two with Gillian. She was a little shocked at how well they’d turned out. She’d never considered herself particularly photogenic before, but…I have to admit, I look pretty hot in these. The photo spread was followed by transcripted portions of the interview that the reporter from Sophisticated Women had conducted with her in Nassau.
All in all, she was happy with it—the article was tasteful, not too invasive. She flipped the next page and came to Kash’s story, written in her own words.
I have to be honest and say that when it came time to leave on my assignment for Sophisticated Women, I tried to get out of it. It had been several months since I had promised my friend Miranda (in a moment of weakness) to accompany the winner of the Make Your Dreams Come True contest on her trip and photograph her for the magazine. And although the idea of dropping in on Paris, Rome, Cairo and the Bahamas for a while was attractive, I was concerned about being so long and so far away from my office.
But Miranda kept me to my promise, though neither of us had any idea at the time that my attachment to this project would result in anything more than a brief detour from the clientele and business I had been building for two decades. She hoped that her contest and makeover might prove to be a thrilling adventure—and a new start, perhaps—for some lucky reader. Instead, it would be my life that got the makeover.
I guess I should start at the beginning, shouldn’t I? Well, I didn’t quite believe Isabel Sterling when she first told me that she had no interest in her promised appearance in this magazine and chance to be its cover girl. I knew by then that she hadn’t entered herself in the contest [Editor’s note—see Isabel’s story on page 23], but let’s say that it had been my experience that few women would refuse the chance for their fifteen minutes of fame.
I also had trouble believing that any woman might not welcome the makeover that came with the prize, though Isabel insisted she was content with the way she was.
But then I got to know her, and guess what? She was right. Though she ended up pleasantly thrilled with the new look that Clifton gave her, Isabel certainly didn’t need any kind of beautification project, that’s for sure. She is a remarkable woman just as she is, inside and out. The kind of woman, in my mind, we should all aspire to be.
I’m sure you know the type. The salt-of-the-earth, sweet and caring kind of woman who’s the first to bring you soup when you’re sick. Or volunteer to listen if you’re having a rough time of it. But who also isn’t afraid to tell you straight-out when you’re making a fool of yourself or taking the wrong course, if she feels that knowledge will help you. And most of all, she’s the optimist we all need in our lives—someone who will rush to assure us that everything will be all right, that it’s never to late to realize our dreams, that we’re never too old to change.
Nope, it wasn’t Isabel who needed the big makeover—though the contest win couldn’t have gone to a nicer and more deserving individual. As it happens, it was my life that needed a little shaking up, and Isabel helped me realize that.
Isabel’s eyes were so moist that she could hardly see the words on the page. She blinked hard and swiped at her tears with the back of her hand before she continued to read.
Long ago, when I first started taking pictures, I intended for each and every photograph to say something meaningful. I wanted my body of work to be something that I could reflect on as having artfully reflected my point of view, while at the same time perhaps opened a few minds, changed a few opinions or broadened a few perspectives.
But somewhere along the line, I got waylaid, as so many do—by money, and fame, and the ever-present invitation to the next A-list party full of the rich, and powerful, and beautiful.
And still I had the gall to be annoyed when some tabloid or other chronicled my misadventures with alcohol and women for all the world to witness.
Well, you won’t be seeing as much of me in the celebrity rags, I’m happy to report. It’s time for me to step out of the public eye, get my act together and start taking some responsibility for my actions. Besides, I’m too busy with a project I’ve been putting off for too many years—the chance to take the kind of photographs I’m most passionate about, in anticipation of a one-woman show in New York sometime early next year. You’ll see a few examples of what I’m talking about on the next page.
Isabel flipped ahead and found several of the photographs she’d seen on Kash’s laptop, along with some additional portraits done in the same vein. Good for you, Kash. Good for you. She flipped back to continue reading the final paragraphs of Kash’s story.
Here in a nutshell are a few of the lessons I took from Isabel Sterling. I pass them along for you to consider.
Follow your heart wherever it leads you, take risks to
pursue your dreams, keep a sense of humor in all things, and never let anyone convince you that something is impossible.
Kash
Isabel ran her fingers lightly over the words on the page. Oh, Kash. Why couldn’t you have said any of this to me? Then she noticed the addendum from Miranda at the bottom of the page, and her heart sank.
Editor’s note: When last contacted, Kash was somewhere in the Himalayas, on her way to photograph sherpas at the base of Mount Everest.
For a moment, Isabel considered skipping the Sophisticated Women party, since Kash apparently wasn’t going to be there after all. But Miranda had sent tickets to both her and Gillian, and Gillian was really looking forward to it. Besides, in light of Kash’s article, perhaps Miranda might be willing to put her in touch with Kash.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Come on, already, Isabel! I swear to God, if you aren’t ready to go in two minutes I’m leaving without you.” Gillian was decked out in one of Isabel’s designer dresses, an avant-garde evening gown the color of eggplant cut so high on one side that Isabel didn’t dare wear it herself, for fear of exposing more than she wanted to at an event where photographers were sure to be present.
“Don’t get your britches in a wad,” Isabel responded good-naturedly as she emerged from the bathroom of their suite and joined her friend in the sitting room. “What do you think?” She pivoted so Gillian could get the full effect and was gratified to hear her low whistle of approval.
“Hot, Izzy, and I do mean sizzling. Damn shame Kash won’t be there.”
“Thanks, Gill.” Isabel took one last look at herself in the large wall mirror, still somewhat unaccustomed to the sight of herself all dolled up in a designer exclusive that was worth more than she made in a month. It was a cocktail dress in a smoky blue-gray, the color of a stormy sky, with a shimmery underlayer that caught the light as she moved, directing one’s eyes to the nicely rounded curves of her hips, ass, and breasts. Not bad, if I do say so myself.
Miranda had conveniently booked them a suite at the Four Seasons. Since the magazine’s soirée was to take place at the hotel’s famed restaurant, L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon, they merely had to take the elevator down forty-nine floors to join the party.
When they stepped off the elevator, Gillian screamed, “Oh my God! Ambra,” and rushed into the arms of her Italian girlfriend, who appeared to be waiting for them.
“Ambra?” Isabel repeated as she crossed to them. Ambra had an I’ve got a secret expression on her face. “What are you doing here?”
“Yeah!” Gillian pulled back from their embrace to address Ambra. “What’s going on? Your e-mail this morning said you were in Naples.”
“She’s here to keep Gillian company so I could have you all to myself. I’d hate to have to beg your forgiveness in front of an audience.” Kash’s voice, from directly behind her, was such a surprise that Isabel was afraid she might faint.
She whirled around unsteadily, and her breath caught when she saw a smiling Kash looking tanned, fit, and irresistibly dashing in a black suit and starched white shirt—her own classically elegant version of a tux.
“What? How?” she stuttered.
“There’s no magazine party,” Kash explained. “All a ruse, I’m afraid, to get you here.”
“A ruse,” Isabel repeated in a daze. Is this really happening? Can you really be here?
“Yup.” Kash turned to Gillian and Ambra. “You have reservations in the restaurant in Gillian’s name. Please order whatever you like and have a fun evening, on me. I know you’ll forgive me if we don’t join you?”
Gillian let go of Ambra long enough to plant a kiss on Kash’s cheek. “I apparently underestimated you, Kash, I’m happy to say. Be good to her. And thanks.” She whispered in Isabel’s ear, “Pretty soon you’re going to have even me believing that dreams can come true. I’m so happy for you, Izzy. And details! I expect details.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Isabel replied with a smile as Gillian reached for Ambra and they headed off toward the restaurant, arm in arm.
They were in the lobby of one of the most popular hotels in Manhattan, but Isabel felt suddenly as though she and Kash were the only two people on the planet.
“So you planned all this…” God, you’re so scrumptious. No woman should look so good. How can I be as angry with you as I should be, when you’re so irresistible? “…just to ask me to forgive you?”
“Well, I have a lot to apologize for,” Kash replied, gazing into her eyes with a new, vulnerable directness that warmed Isabel. “And I was kind of hoping that if you accept my apology, we might also…talk. Really talk. About us. And how we feel about each other.”
“Talk?” Isabel repeated dumbly. “Talking’s good.”
“And if the talking goes well,” Kash added cheekily, “maybe we can throw in some touching, too?”
The way Kash said the word touching…slowly, with meaning, as her eyes caught Isabel’s with unguarded yearning…made Isabel feel as though Kash was already undressing her.
“I…I think that can be arranged,” Isabel replied, trying not to stammer. You’re supposed to be mad at her, she reminded herself.
“Although…with you in that dress, I’m going to be hard-pressed to do the talking before the touching. You’re stunning, Isabel.”
She could feel her cheeks warm under the compliment. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”
“Better get used to it,” Kash replied softly, her cocky façade dissolving as she closed the distance and took Isabel in her arms. “God, how I’ve missed you,” she whispered as they clung to each other.
“Me, too, Kash,” Isabel whispered back. She thrilled at the press of their bodies against each other and wondered whether Kash could feel how her heart was fluttering wildly. “I’ve been damn angry with you, yes. But I never stopped missing you. Wanting you. So much. I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Pretty relieved you’re happy to see me,” Kash said. “I sure did everything I could to push you away.”
“Yes, you did. I hope you’ve smartened up.”
Kash heard her name called and glanced up to see a cluster of Japanese tourists watching them curiously. “Say…Isabel? You mind if we continue this in private?”
Isabel turned to see what Kash was looking at, just as one of the gawkers snapped a photo, blinding her with the flash. “Sounds like a plan.”
Kash took her hand and led her to a private elevator, and soon they were headed up.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Kash said, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Rehearsing this meeting a dozen times had failed to calm her nerves. “I imagined the best-case scenario and arranged to have dinner for us in my suite.”
“Your suite?” Isabel asked. “You’re staying here?”
Kash laughed. “Two floors above you. This still hasn’t quite sunk in, has it?”
“No. It’s like a dream.” Isabel sighed as she looped an arm through Kash’s. “You make it kind of tough to stay furious with you.”
“I sure hope so.”
The elevator stopped on the fifty-first floor and Kash led her to one of the hotel’s two presidential suites, a fifteen-hundred-square-foot plush accommodation that boasted original oil paintings, a full marble bathroom, gas fireplace, library, and floor-to-ceiling windows, with a spectacular view of Central Park and downtown Manhattan.
The dining table was set with the finest linen and china, champagne was chilling in an ice bucket, and fresh flowers adorned nearly every available surface.
“Is this all right?” Kash asked uncertainly. She stuck her hands in her pockets so Isabel wouldn’t see how badly she was shaking. How you throw me off balance when I look at you. And here I thought it was impossible for me to feel nervous around a woman.
“It’s wonderful,” Isabel said, taking it all in as she glided into the room. They stood for a long moment, fifteen feet apart, staring at each other, not moving, before she spoke again. “Or I
should say…it’s wonderful if it’s the start of something, Kash, and not just your guilt talking. Or a classier way to get me into bed, only to pull away from me again without explanation.”
“I deserve that. And more.” Kash ran her hand through her hair. “Isabel, I’ve been a fool, behaving badly from start to finish. I should’ve called, sent flowers, written. Something. I know. But I was afraid. Afraid you wouldn’t forgive me. Afraid you’d moved on. And I needed to make some changes first. I wanted to make sure I was capable of being the kind of woman you deserve.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m willing to do whatever it takes to be a part of your life. As much as you’ll let me,” Kash said. “I’ve changed, Isabel. I’m still changing. And it’s all very much for the better, thanks to you.”
“I believe that’s true. Sure, in part, because I want to believe it,” Isabel said. “But I also read the article. It really touched me.”
“The one thing I couldn’t say in the article,” Kash said, taking one tentative step toward Isabel, “is how much I love you. But I really wanted to say that in person anyway.”
Isabel closed her eyes and let the words sink in. She loves me. She felt the hurt and disappointment of the last several weeks begin to fade.
“Isabel?”
When she opened her eyes again, Kash was watching her with such fearfully anxious anticipation that she knew things would be all right. She really does love me.