by A. C. Arthur
A mixture of laughs, groans and pushback filled the room. Jennifer picked up her tea, nice and ladylike, and took a sip. Above the rim, she winked in Aliyah and London’s direction. Women unite!
“Is that true?” Niko asked. “The owner of OTB was at the resort?”
London nodded. “Just for a couple days, to get away from the stress of fashion week.”
“And he ran into you,” Ike said, shaking his head. “Poor fella.”
Everybody laughed at that, even London. Obviously Terrell and Quinn knew about it but for some family members her being the face of Ace’s new line was news.
Charli got up for seconds and headed to the buffet. “I don’t get it. If he makes menswear, why does he need you?”
“That news will hit the public later today, if it hasn’t already. OTB is introducing a women’s line. I will serve as the spokesperson.”
Jennifer’s eyes beamed. “Really, honey? I thought you were just doing the fashion shows. Sounds fantastic. But it also sounds like a lot of work.”
“Sounds like you’re going back on your word,” Ike Sr. intoned.
“Just moving the date a little, Dad. One of the conditions in accepting the spokesperson position was that as much shooting as possible could happen during the four-week period of fashion week’s major shows. The rest will be done either in San Francisco or here.”
“Now you’re talking,” Niko said. “At times I’ve wondered whether or not you were dropped off on the doorstep. But bringing positive attention and possible revenue to the city is a definite Drake move.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mayor.”
“Good heavens, Clarisse. In hearing about your tabloid piece I forgot breaking news. Diamond had her baby!”
“What? When? How am I just now finding out?”
“It happened while you were in transit, and quite quickly. Genevieve said she’s exhausted as can be expected, but Mommy and baby Jackson are doing fine.”
Jennifer stood and continued. “Ladies, would you all like to join me for a short jaunt to walk off that massive meal?”
“Guys, you know what that means,” Ike said. “We’re getting ready to be the topic of conversation.”
“No, you’re safe this week,” Jennifer replied as she stood. “The topic of this walk is going to be Ace Montgomery.”
London groaned as she got up to join the ladies as they made their exit. She was willing to tell all when it came to business and the daytime hours. But about what happened once the lights went out...her lips were sealed.
Chapter 17
For Ace, the next two weeks flew by. He’d barely had time to text London, let alone call and talk to her. Seeing her was out of the question. The PR blitz had filled the week after her trip to San Francisco, and for the past week he and a team of twenty from OTB had been in New York. All the work had paid off. OTB Her, and more specifically London, was a topic on every major fashion-or entertainment-oriented website, blog and TV show.
The photo now simply known as “the shot” had been blown up to gargantuan proportions and occupied prime real estate above Times Square. The picture was magical and mystical all at once. While the image had been enhanced, as all fashion pics were, the burst of light and lightning highlighting London’s face and rain-drenched skin was totally real and amazing. The fashion world had come calling, as the partners had predicted. They’d moved the show to a larger venue and had been offered a prime-time Friday-night slot.
The flurry of activity had left Ace little time to contact London. But it hadn’t kept her off his mind. Finally, last night, he couldn’t take it anymore. Technically she wasn’t needed in town for another three days, but Ace had instructed his team to try and get her in early. He’d had a flood of invitations since getting into town and figured attending the events with her would generate great publicity. That’s what he told the team, anyway. And it was true. But the OTB Her line wasn’t the main reason he’d had London summoned. The main reason was because he missed her. His days didn’t seem as bright without her in them.
Frida came into Ace’s temporary office. He was on the phone, but before she was fully in the room he’d placed the call on hold. “Is she coming?”
“It took some crazy coordination, but we managed to get her from Paradise Cove to San Francisco and on a nonstop flight that left just before noon. She gets in to JFK at eight twenty tonight.”
“First class, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“Make sure there’s a car waiting for her at the airport and assign a personal assistant for whatever she might need. You said eight thirty?”
“About that time. I’d say by the time we get her baggage and allow for traffic, she’ll be in the city around ten.”
“Crap.”
“What is it, Ace?”
“I didn’t even think about her lodging. I bet all the suites are taken.”
“I knew you’d be too busy to think about it, boss, but I did. Booked the Prestige suite for her when I booked yours two weeks ago.”
“Frida, you just earned your bonus.”
“And an extra three days in New York with the hotel on the company?”
“Don’t push it.”
London arrived at the hotel a little after ten. But she didn’t see her suite that night. After a late dinner with Ace, publicists, editors from the world’s top fashion magazines and hosts of a top TV show doing an exclusive on OTB Her, he pulled her finger away from the button to her floor and took them straight to his penthouse suite.
The next morning, Ace awoke to London’s soft lips on his hard shaft. He’d missed more than their sexual escapades, but this good-morning convinced him their romps ran a close second to whatever was first.
“Baby,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “We’ve got a busy day ahead.”
Her eyes floated up over his erection. “All the more reason to begin it with a good workout.”
The next three days were a blur. The Times Square billboard had gotten the attention of the entire city. London was booked on all the major talk shows. Even Ace, who preferred to remain behind the scenes, was pulled into the spotlight. When he wasn’t doing publicity or making last-minute changes to the fashion show outfits or line up, he was in the suite with London, rubbing feet now sore from practicing the grand finale walk in two-foot stilts.
Finally, showtime. Ace left the backstage flurry to Lucien and his capable crew. He took up a position near the runway entrance, waiting on his cue to announce the line. Most designers would be nervous at this time. But it was in this moment—with the crowd buzzing, the music pulsating, the back room a frenzy of models in various states of undress—that Ace became calm. He looked out at the audience, and though the lights prevented him from seeing her, imagined his mom and her best friend in the fifth row. His eyes scanned the front rows, where the stars were clearly visible. The huge rapper and his reality-star wife. The talk-show mogul and her lifelong BFF. The young pop artist topping the charts and the record executive who’d discovered her. The NBA star and his too-live crew. Just as the coordinator signaled that they were about to begin, Ace noticed someone else—Maxwell Tata.
“One minute, Mr. Montgomery.”
Ace didn’t have time to react or to figure out which assistant he needed to fire. He straightened the cuffs on his tunic-style pantsuit, an original OTB design, and it was five, four, three, two...
“Good evening! Tonight it is my honor to present an idea several years in the making. Clothes not just for any woman, but for those who think outside the box. These designs were inspired by women like my mother—strong, fierce, exquisite—and like the well-known woman closing out this show. The wait is over. Introducing Out of the Box’s new creation, OTB Her!”
Seconds after the music changed, London burst through the curtain. The wide-le
gged jumpsuit covering her body came alive as she walked on nine-inch wooden wedge heels that closely resembled the two-foot stilts she’d wear at the end. The wedges were one of the show’s signatures, worn by all the models. But none of them walked in them quite like London did. She reached the end of the runway and became almost robotic in her movements. The crowd broke out in applause. Ace watched as even the jaded celebrities clapped and cheered. London’s star quality couldn’t be taught, rarely even honed by those with the best intentions.
Eighteen looks followed London’s strong beginning: suits, dresses, separates, coats. Then it was time for the finale. They’d rehearsed it several times. Ace was convinced it would go off without a hitch. But he was nervous. A lot was involved.
The music changed. Sounds of thunder rumbled through the building. Special bulbs caused lightning to flicker across the stage and throughout the room. London crouched behind a screen that made her appear twenty feet tall. A murmur ran through the crowd. She stood. The crowd went wild. The lion’s mane of hair that had been pinned up in previous walks now swung past her backside. She came around the curtain on two-foot stilts, walking on them like they were the Nikes she’d worn on the trail. Camera flashes shot off from every direction. The crowd followed her as with one set of eyes. She reached the center of the runway, stopped and posed. It was unexpected. The customary walk for all models was all the way to the end. A Plexiglas cylinder dropped from the rafter. A collective gasp. And then came the rain. Thunder. Lightning. And London, expertly recreating the look that was plastered all over the world.
Standing ovation. The show was a wrap. In that second, OTB became the star of fashion week.
Ace snaked through the packed backstage crowd with determined strides. He reached his destination, picked London up from where she sat and slowly twirled them around.
“You were amazing,” he whispered, uncaring of the flashes going off around them. “You’ve not only put OTB Her on top. You’ve changed the runway game.”
“It was your vision,” London said, eyes beaming.
Ace knew the adrenaline was still pumping. Shows like this were a model’s dream.
“London, over here!”
“Excuse me, Ace, can I get a photo of you two together?”
“That ending was genius!”
Ace tried to field as many questions as possible. A firm arm kept London close to his side. Frida slipped him a note. He read it and nodded.
“Let’s get you changed,” he whispered to London. “100 Proof and other investors are hosting a celebration party. They’re waiting for us.”
A small skirmish caused Ace to turn around. A large bodyguard pushed his way through the crowd. Behind him was the man Ace had forgotten about until this moment.
“There she is!”
London turned, too, and was swept into a hug before she could react. “Max!”
Strong arms pulled her away from the director. Ace placed one of those arms around London’s waist and challenged Max with his eyes, but said nothing.
Max looked at Ace in surprise, as though just realizing he was standing there. Just as quickly he dismissed him.
“London, you were incredible! Sweetheart, the world is your oyster. I’ve already been on the phone. Where are your things? Let’s go. I’ve got some people I want you to meet.”
“Sorry, Max. I’ve got plans.”
“I assure you they’re not bigger than mine. Come on, limo’s waiting.”
Ace took a step toward Maxwell. London hurriedly stepped between them. “I’ve got appearances, Max. Let’s talk later, okay?”
Maxwell continued to ignore Ace. “Sure, sweetheart.”
He leaned to plant a kiss on her mouth. She turned her face. He caught a cheek. “I always knew you’d shine on the stage as well as the runway.” He turned to walk away, his goon behind him. “Call me when you finish tonight. I’ll send a car for you to join me on the Upper East Side.”
Ace watched Maxwell and his King Kong sideman disappear into the crowd. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Tyler to remove the director’s name from the invite list for all future shows. Any questions about what type of relationship Ace wanted with London had just been answered. He wanted them to be exclusive, and Maxwell Tata was the first person who needed to know.
Chapter 18
Tyler and his husband, Phillip, met Ace and London as they were whisked through a side door.
Tyler waylaid him. “You don’t want Maxwell Tata, practically Hollywood friggin’ royalty, at the shows? What the hell happened?”
Both Tyler and London awaited Ace’s answer as the couples slid into the waiting limo.
“I don’t want him around.”
Tyler looked at London, who shrugged, and back to Ace. “I don’t get it, man. Press follows wherever he goes. There’s even opportunity for our clothes to be worn in his movies. Or by his next blockbuster movie’s leading lady, or—”
“Look, I just don’t like him, all right? He’s seen the show. Anything else he wants to know about the line he can find online. I want that ban enforced, Dent, you got that? No team vote on this one. I’ve made up my mind.”
Tyler shook his head but said nothing further, just slunk back in the cushy leather seats, quietly grabbed his husband’s hand and watched Manhattan go by. Ace knew he’d been borderline rude to his partner. He’d even entertain the notion that his intense dislike for Maxwell Tata was unwarranted. All he knew about the guy was that he made movies and had dated London, who didn’t seem to have a problem with him coming around. Why was he so bothered? Sure, he didn’t like Maxwell’s obsession with London but it was more than that. He didn’t like Maxwell, but that wasn’t it either. Ace couldn’t explain the uncomfortable feeling. Nor could he shake it. Until he could do one or the other, he intended to keep up his guard.
After another moment of silence, London kissed his cheek and whispered, “You okay?”
He reached for her hand. “Better now.”
“Don’t let whatever happened back there ruin this moment. It was a long time coming. Try to enjoy it.”
Ace squeezed her hand. He took a deep breath, brought her hand up and kissed it.
“Sorry about my earlier attitude, man,” Ace said to Tyler. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
Tyler waved off the apology. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I owe you an explanation.”
“Another time. Tonight’s for celebrating!”
“It sure is,” Phillip exclaimed, reaching for a bottle of Dom Pérignon. “For a second there I thought we were in a funeral procession. This is supposed to be a no-holds-barred bash!”
Tyler reached over to the bar and handed everyone a flute. “Hey, I just thought about Mira. Where is she?”
“Already at the venue.”
“Oh, okay. Babe, will you do the honors?” Phillip filled the glasses. Tyler looked at Ace with a sober expression. “When you suggested a women’s line two years ago, I thought you were crazy.” He lifted his glass. “Now I’m sure of it!”
Laughter, clinking glasses and shouts of cheer rang out.
“To London,” Ace said, “the reason everyone’s talking.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” London replied. “You’re the reason I’m here.”
By the time the limo stopped in front of their destination, Ace’s good mood had been fully restored. Stars, an exclusive club on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, was where celebrities, investors and the fashion world’s elite had been invited to celebrate OTB Hers’s incredible launch success.
At first Ace had balked at the idea of bodyguards, but seeing the crowd blocking the club’s entrance, he was now glad for the three who’d followed in the car behind. Now the men whisked them out of the limo and cleared a path through the throng of repo
rters, photographers and star watchers so Ace and company could get inside. Mira spotted the group as soon as they came through the club’s inner doors.
She hurried to the stage and spoke into the microphone. “May I have your attention, please? Everyone, please help me welcome my partners, Tyler Dent and Ace Montgomery, along with London, the face of OTB Her!”
Amid boisterous applause, Ace held London’s hand as they made their way through the crowd, him shaking hands, her giving hugs, both accepting pats on the back. Eyes filled with curiosity darted between him and London. Neither missed these speculative glances. Ace imagined the world would dub them a couple by morning, whether it was true or not.
They reached the slightly elevated stage area and accepted flutes of bubbly from Mira. Ace placed an arm around London and brought her close to his side. She cocked her head toward him, her expression partly inquisitive, partly amused. He noticed but couldn’t help it. Ace had fallen head over heels for a runway star with a pretty face, a pert behind and a smart mouth. Tomorrow he’d regain his serious composure and place their relationship back in the private box where it belonged. But tonight...
The crowd of more than two hundred well-wishers continued to clap and cheer. Ace stepped to the microphone. “Thank you! Thanks, everyone.” The din lowered to a murmur as he continued to speak. “On behalf of my partners, Tyler Dent and Mira Jacobs, we want to thank all of you for embracing this new line so enthusiastically. The world’s a fickle place, nowhere more so than the entertainment and fashion industries. So we didn’t know what to expect. Back in the warehouse amid the designs, especially when we saw them on London, we knew these out-of-the-box fashions were a hit. But I can’t tell you how good it feels to know you feel that way, too. Here’s to the launch and to London, the face of the brand and the woman who first made the clothes come alive... To OTB Her!”