I'll fall and break my neck or embarrass everyone as I stumble along in these but it would be rude not to wear them.
I hid my thoughts about the difficulties I knew I’d have wearing the ensemble. Its length was short for me, the fit snug, and my struggle with heels was legendary—I was a klutz.
When I walked out, I found Penny waiting for me.
“Have fun today. You’re going to be a busy lady.” She smiled and gave me a leather folio. "There's an agenda sheet attached to a 2" x 10" envelope which explains your day. Your driver is waiting right over there," she pointed.
I thanked her and peeked inside the folio, finding an electronic tablet, a matching pen and pencil set, a yellow writing pad, and the envelope with a sheet detailing my appointments that Penny mentioned. My driver introduced himself as Peter Hopkins. We shook hands and he opened the passenger door to a Lexus SUV.
On the way to our first stop, I reviewed the day ahead, discovering that I was to visit and get items from several design houses in downtown Los Angeles and bring them back to the beach for the next day's photo shoot.
At each location, I met with designers and their assistants who were thrilled I wore their products—planned on purpose, of course, by Alex's modeling agency, Sonar.
After a tour of each facility, the representatives gave me envelopes, bags, and boxes to bring back to Newport Beach along with full-sized samples of perfume, lipsticks, sunglasses, and scarves to take home.
Next, I delivered the sealed 8" x 10" envelope. It was meant for the head designer at St. John. Veronica, the daughter of the company’s founding partners, greeted me and took me through the building. She told me I'd just given her the details of a winter fashion show and charity event sponsored by Sonar and St. John. After complimenting my business suit, she asked her assistant to make sure I had their packages for the photo shoot and to give me several freebies of anything I wanted. I chose items that I was sure Jenise liked—a purse, shoes, and some cosmetic jewelry.
Last on my list was a meeting with the Lieutenant Governor. It was to be over iced tea at 3 Thirty 3, a beachfront café. According to my itinerary, he was to be the grand master of the charity event Veronica had quickly revealed to me. The interview with Mr. Xavier Del Sol would be a published piece, promoting the gala. The focus of the event was to put a spotlight on the thousands of men and women returning from their military tours with Traumatic Brain Injury.
Mr. Del Sol was tall, in his late forties, had salt and pepper hair and was an attractive Mexican man. After shaking hands and making small talk, I learned that one of his goals was to bring awareness to the “hidden illness” of brain assault, also known as "TBI." His voice was steady and calm, his demeanor pleasant and polite. I could understand why he had entered politics . . . he had a natural way that made a person feel relaxed and confident that he was in charge.
Furiously typing on the tablet given to me while Mr. Del Sol talked, I asked questions about the unknowns of how jumbled and raw the injured truly are. He spoke about how those burdened by TBI are constantly trying to recover, their brains often struggling from seizures and cognitive challenges, trying to form whole, succinct thoughts—sometimes for the rest of their lives.
I continued with the interview as written for me and couldn't help but note that while informative, the questions as written, weren't enough. I didn't want to make any ripples and kept the questions I really wanted to ask to myself—for a short while. I made sure he answered the printed questions one by one, and after the last question he seemed ready to excuse himself.
No longer able to resist the temptation, I continued with several questions of my own. I wanted him to answer why, in his opinion, there wasn't more emphasis on the after-urgent care.
"Please comment on the poor outlook and recovery of brain trauma victims. Why isn't there an equal amount of medical attention toward rehabilitation, which is so desperately needed?" Now I was on another mission. It was one I shouldn't have dared take on. "There are plenty of medical measurements for survival but not enough that address the victims’ lives after hospitalization and sub-acute care. Why? As Lieutenant Governor, what can you do to help?"
His eyes widened. He was obviously surprised, and yet seemed happy to take on the challenge. He answered my question with such ease; I dared to ask another and then posed a third. I had to, for Johnny' sake and the others at Yountville, especially since people who had money would be at the gala.
When we finished, I thanked him for the extra time. He shook my hand, paid the bill, and excused himself. He climbed into the back of his limo and was chauffeured away.
I debated whether or not I should send in the complete interview or only the answers he gave to the prepared questions. I hoped I hadn't embarrassed Alex or blown the opportunity given to me.
Drumming my fingers on the table as I reviewed and edited what I'd typed, in the end, I entered the email address listed on my agenda and uploaded the entire interview to Sonar Modeling Agency. I zipped up my leather folio, gathered my purse, and walked over to where Peter, my driver, waited for me.
“You’ve had quite a day.” He opened the car door.
“I know! I got to meet so many people!” I showed him some of the business cards I'd collected. “I’m studying business entertainment marketing at Stanford and this could be important for an internship and maybe even class credits.” I told him all the details of my college program, delighted to explain my future to someone who’d never heard my story.
"They're still wrapping up at the beach," Peter said. "I'll deliver the items given to you for tomorrow’s photo shoot so you can check into your hotel."
"Um . . ." I didn't want anyone to see me as lazy and I wasn't sure about anyone else finishing my job. I'd never handed over a task without seeing it through to the end, wanting absolute control over my own fate from step A through Z.
"It's all right." He seemed to notice the doubt on my face. "Alex said you could go up to the room. You can call her if you need verify what I said."
"No, that's okay. Thank you for driving me around today." He tipped his cap and after shaking hands I walked through the lobby of the hotel and checked in. I had no trouble getting the key to our room. When I got there, all I wanted was sleep.
My luggage and backpack was on one of the beds. I threw my bags of designer freebies alongside them and kicked off my shoes. I was about to lie down when Alex came out of the bathroom.
“Oh, babe, you look like you’re ready to take on the business world right now. I, for one, would hire you on the spot."
"Well hopefully you'll have some sway when I graduate," I giggled, but in actuality I knew she had the connections to help me.
"What a great suit. Penny's awesome, isn't she?"
I nodded.
"Did you have fun meeting everyone today?”
“Oh, yeah! I met fashion designers and their assistants; I got their business cards, and I had tea with the lieutenant governor! Can you imagine? I met the daughter of the founders at St. John! She runs the company now, and here I am wearing one of their suits—this suit! And she commented on it! Damn, what a day! Thanks for insisting I go with you.”
“Aren’t you glad we dressed you up?”
“Yes," I admitted. “I am.”
“Good. See what happens when you let go?"
"It's almost impossible for me." I took off my jacket.
"And yet, you did it. You work so hard, Nick. I love that for a change you got to see the rewards from the gifts you have. You sowed a few possibilities today.”
“I hope so.”
“I’m telling you that you did.” She stepped closer and held my shoulders. “You made an impression on more than a few of the people you met, including Mr. Del Sol. He’ll be joining us for dinner, by the way. I understand you asked a few questions that weren't on the interview sheet.”
“I didn’t think he’d notice.” Secretly, I knew a man like him would catch it and I was glad he did. “Wow, news s
ure gets back to you fast. Wait—I thought it was going to be just us at dinner.”
“You’ll fit right in. Xavier wasn't the only one who was impressed; my boss was, too.”
“Xavier?" I teased.
"Yeah, well . . ." she blushed. "I've made a lot of contacts over the years, you know."
"Oh, I'm sure you have." I bumped her shoulder with mine. "But how can I go? I didn’t bring clothes to have a fancy dinner with the people you know. They’ve already seen this suit, and . . . oh, by the way, the driver, Peter Hopkins, said he was taking the boxes I got from the designers back to the photo shoot. He said it was still going on, but you’re here . . . did I do the right thing—”
“Slow down, Nick. Yes, it was okay he took the boxes. And all those freebies you got today are yours to take home.”
“The tablet, Chanel bag, and the suit? All of it?”
“Just shut up about it. They’re yours.”
“Well . . . wow. Thank you. Please tell your agency thank you.”
“Tell them yourself at dinner tonight. Come with me, my dear. I have something for you to wear.”
I followed her to the closet.
“Please no more heels. My feet are so sore.”
“Don’t worry.” She took down a black, short-sleeved Valentino sheath dress. It was cut just above the knee and matched with a comfortable looking pair of Manolo flat-heeled shoes. “Do I know my Nicky girl, or what?”
“Oh, it’s stunning.” I ran my hands over the dress. “I hope it fits. My butt, it’s . . .”
“Luscious.” She winked at me.
I stood with my mouth open.
"Yes, girlfriend. It's completely luscious," she repeated.
“That’s not how I think of it.” I about choked.
“Maybe not, but just about every man does. Speaking of your splendid ass, did I see you send a text to Ryan Tilton earlier?”
I fiddled with a pair of sunglasses given to me by the Ralph Lauren representative.
“No answer needed.” Obviously my nervousness confirmed what she had suspected. “I want to talk with you about him when we get back from dinner. For now, let’s get ready. I'm starving.”
Chapter 12
Discussions
The hotel restaurant, bambú, was set in the middle of a four-story atrium amid lush gardens, filled with palms and orchids.
Alex and I were escorted to a private room. It had a large table with seating for twenty-four people. I was grateful she was sensitive to my awkwardness, insisting we arrive together and taking a seat next to me. Hungry and thirsty, I immediately drank several glasses of water. Our appetizers of baked fig with pistachios and goat cheese were served quickly and were followed by grilled salmon, a salad of baby greens, and a cheese plate.
The lieutenant governor made a toast congratulating everyone on a well-planned winter fashion show and charity event.
“So, I had the pleasure of meeting Nicky Young today,” he said after getting settled in his seat once again. The eyes around the table looked at me briefly. Alex smacked my thigh. “Ms. Young was supposed to interview me with questions I'd already reviewed with Sonar to promote the winter gala. Imagine my surprise when she asked me several not on the list." He gave me a wink.
"Her passion for the issue brought to light several of the most important questions of all," he continued. "It turns out she volunteers at the Veterans’ Hospital in Yountville. She's especially fond of one of their patients, Johnny Mantle. He's recovering from a TBI and like so many, has been in and out of the hospital several times. What you don’t know, Ms. Young," he turned to me and gave me a broad smile. "Because of our interview and talk today, I’ve gotten in touch with Mrs. Mantle. She and her son will be our guests of honor at the fundraiser.”
Immediately I covered my face with my white cloth napkin to hide my tears. The news tugged on every part of my wounded and sentimental heart. Johnny's slanted head and his mother's pain, the story Ryan had revealed about Sam and Ermina's son . . . they all rushed into my thoughts.
“I think you can see how you touched my girlfriend,” Alex put her arms around me.
“Thank you, sir.” I tried to dry my tears. “When you meet them," I sniffed, "you’ll see for yourself how precious they are.”
“We get it,” Veronica, the designer at St. John added. “I have a daughter who was in a car accident and the result is a severe TBI. We understand what few people do—the ongoing therapy needed once she left the hospital. We’re blessed to have the means to give it to her, but it’s a long struggle.”
The conversation about TBI lasted through dessert and as we were wrapping up, the lieutenant governor pushed back from the table.
“Ms. Young, I think it’s safe to say you’ll be an asset to anyone’s business,” he squared his shoulders and faced me directly. “I’m extending a standing invitation to you. Please look me up when you graduate from . . . Stanford, I’m told?”
“Yes, but how . . .?”
He nodded to Alex.
“My alma mater.” He showed his class ring, which he wore on his right hand. “I could pull a few strings for you.”
“Thank you. I’m humbled by your offer.” I didn't dismiss his statement lightly and honored it with a simple acknowledgment.
Someone suggested cocktails in the bar, and with that, Alex and I shook hands with everyone, left the restaurant, and went to our room. It was almost midnight.
"How come you didn't go with them?"
"Baby, I like to party, but I'm modeling and can't afford droopy eyes or to be dragging my ass."
“What time do we have to get going in the morning?” I yawned.
“Bright and early at six.” She unzipped her dress.
“Oh dear Lord. I don’t know how you do it." I stepped close and threw my arms around her. "Thanks for today. I love you.”
“Pull a few strings for you—did you hear what Mr. Del Sol said?” She kicked off her shoes.
“Yes, I heard!” I kicked off my shoes, too. “I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say.”
“You’re something else, doll.” She stepped out of her dress and hung it in the closet. “I told you. You suck us in! Now . . .” She gave me a penetrating look. “What’s up with Tilton?”
“I know what you’re going to say, but he’s not the man you and Tara warned me off of,” I put my hand up like a stop sign. “He’s really lovely and I’ve gotten to know him on a deep level. He's the one who invited me to Yountville to volunteer. Actually, he and I are good friends now.”
Of course, I won’t reveal anything about our kisses or the night we spent together.
“I’ll take you at your word.” She shook her head. “But hear me when I say this: don’t get serious with him. I don’t care that he’s older than you—shit, I dated a man who was thirty-six when I was eighteen so I’m no one to talk. It’s exciting dating older men. They can show you . . .” She became lost in her thoughts for a moment, and I was certain that something juicy passed over her face.
“God, Alex.”
“What I’m saying,” she shot me a hard look, “is you have no experience at all, and you don’t know anything about that side of yourself. I’d been having sex from the time I was fifteen, so I already knew things when I was your age. You need to be with boys who are your peers. They’ll go slow and you can control them the way you like.”
“I’ll think about it. Ryan’s just a friend, you know.”
“Not by the look on your face.”
“Oh, damn,” I panicked. “Am I that transparent?”
“We’re always an open book when we’re in lusty love, honey. There's no hiding it. So I'll just say this: whatever kind of man he is, you have Stanford coming. He attended college and it’s not right he's asking you to consider being with him . . . if he is. I hope he isn’t. Well, is he?”
“No.” I giggled at the way she was stumbling.
Lying to a friend? How healthy is this relationship with Ryan?
&nb
sp; “If you’re thinking of playing with him, well . . . I can’t blame you. He's a handsome devil. Just . . . don’t get involved."
"I hear you," I tried to comfort her worry.
"Let’s get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”
“Don’t tell Tara.”
“I won’t, but I’m betting she knows." She threw down the bed covers.
“Oh, shitola.”
She laughed and we got ready for bed.
When I woke the next morning, Alex was already gone. It was 10:00 a.m. and panic raced through me—I thought I'd blown it. Thankfully, when I got up, I found a note she'd left on the desk for me, letting me know I could relax as long as I wanted. She also left the number for Peter Hopkins, the driver, who I could call when I was ready. The last part of her note informed that she'd be working until six that evening.
After checking in with Mom and Jenise, I took a nice long bath. When I felt ready, I put on jeans and a T-shirt, called Peter, and went to the photo shoot.
“There’s the girlfriend I know,” Alex waived when she saw me.
Ben said hello and immediately gave me a list of things to do. I ran back and forth on the set, getting this or that item of clothing or accessory. The second day flew by.
We got back to the hotel at seven and thankfully had a quiet dinner together in our room. It felt good to relax, snuggling and talking in our pajamas, enjoying the thick comforter and crisp cotton sheets on the bed.
The next morning we flew back to San Francisco.
Alex had the taxi drop me home first. I forced myself to wave goodbye as she pulled away, already missing her. The pangs of loneliness knocked from within.
As soon as I walked through my door, the push and pull of having Ryan in my life came to the forefront of my mind.
Before I left, I couldn’t wait to taste Ryan and the deliciousness I imagined him to be. Now, although I still had those feelings, I was conflicted. I'd gotten a taste of the business world. Did I want to put my focus on anything or anyone else?
Fire Heart (Broken Bottle Series Book 2) Page 10