by Nancy Krulik
“So did you take my advice?” Ted Fromme asked Sami as he walked into the office just a few minutes after she had arrived.
“Your advice?” she said. “You mean about FIT?”
“What about FIT?” Ted asked.
Sami shook her head. Come to think of it, it had been Bruce who had suggested the schooling, not Ted. “Nothing,” she murmured.
“I meant about going out and seeing the town,” Ted continued.
“Well, I went to La Comida last night with … a … uh … friend,” Sami told him, keenly recalling Bruces warning about the importance of keeping their relationship a secret.
“Nice friend,” Ted said. “That place is great. I used to go there quite a lot when it first opened. Now I’ve moved on to Cafe 17. You know how it is in New York: The hot spots keep changing.”
Just then, Bruce strolled into the office. His face fell slightly when he caught a glimpse of Sami talking to Ted. He walked over and stopped in front of her desk. “Any messages for me?”
“Oh, Bruce, just the man I wanted to see,” Ted greeted him. “How are those designs coming?”
“You’ll have them by Friday morning, I promise,” Bruce assured him.
“I hope so,” Ted replied. “You’re the last of the junior designers to submit his designs.”
Sami could see Bruce’s shoulders sag at the way Ted emphasized the word “junior.” It was hard for a man as dedicated and ambitious as Bruce to think of himself as a junior anything.
“You’ll have them,” Bruce reassured him. “I just want to put in a few extras to make sure these are the designs that blow you away.”
Ted nodded and smiled slightly. “I’ll see you later, Sami,” he said as he walked away. “I’m glad you considered my advice.”
Bruce waited until Ted was gone before he perched himself on the corner of Sami’s desk and studied her face carefully. “What advice was that?” he asked with a curious tone in his voice.
“Oh, he just told me to go out and enjoy myself more. I told him I was at La Comida last night. But don’t worry, I just said I went with a friend.”
“You didn’t talk to him about the designs?” Bruce asked anxiously.
“No, and he didn’t mention them, either,” Sami said mournfully. “I think he has a heart of steel. How can he be so nice to my face after rejecting my designs?”
“That’s just Ted,” Bruce said quickly. “He doesn’t think he did anything to hurt your feelings. To him, it’s just business.”
“But he must have been an aspiring designer at some point. He must remember how that felt.”
Bruce shrugged. “That was a few years and several million dollars ago, Sami.”
“I guess.”
“He was right about you getting out to see the city more, though,” Bruce said, changing the subject. “The excitement suits you.” He chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget your face when you saw RuPaul. It was classic!”
Sami blushed.
“There are so many hot spots in this city. We’ll get to all of them,” Bruce continued.
“I know,” Sami agreed. “And not all of them are so expensive. Vin told me about this place in the West Village where the waiters sing opera.”
“Vin recommended it?” Bruce noted. There was that tone again, she realized.
“Do you want to try it?” Sami asked, consciously ignoring the tone in his voice. “We could go tonight.”
“Sami,” Bruce warned her.
“What? No one heard me. There’s no one here but us.” She was right. The reception area was empty.
“Yes, but someone might walk in,” Bruce reminded her.
“I’m sorry,” Sami apologized.
Bruce smiled warmly. “It’s okay. Working together like this is hard for me, too. Sometimes I have to fight off the urge to just run out here and grab you in the middle of the day. You look awfully sexy answering those phones, you know.”
Sami laughed. “You should see me when I sign for a package.”
“I’ll be picturing it all day,” Bruce assured her. “Believe me, I’d love to do anything with you—even go to some place Vin recommended. Unfortunately, tonight’s impossible. You heard Ted. I have to get those designs finished by Friday. But after that, I’m all yours. Maybe we can go out Saturday night and celebrate.”
“Okay, you put out the paper plates, and I’ll get the chicken,” Sami told Rain later that night, when the two girls were alone in their apartment.
“I’m so psyched. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal since … since I left home,” Rain said as she set the kitchen table. “Unless of course you count the endless boxes of mac and cheese I’ve shoved down my throat since I moved here.”
“I thought it would be fun,” Sami said as she checked the chicken one last time to make sure it was cooked. “I hope you like this. It’s a recipe my dad uses at the coffee shop. It’s usually the Wednesday special. Of course, he makes it with mashed potatoes on the side, but since you’re getting ready for Mollie Mack, I thought grilled veggies would be better.”
“Sounds yummy.” Rain watched her roommate carefully. Sami hadn’t said anything about how Bruce’s meeting with Ted Fromme had gone, but Rain had a feeling that Sami wouldn’t be home making chicken if he’d suddenly declared her the next Coco Chanel. Still, Rain hadn’t wanted to pry into Sami’s business. If she wanted to talk about it, Rain figured she would.
Just as Sami placed the chicken on the table, there was a knock at the door. Three short taps and one loud pound.
“I’ll get it,” Rain told her as she leaped up to get the door. She unhooked the chain, turned the two bolt locks, and clicked the small latch over the doorknob to the right before she could open the door.
“Hey, don’t you ask who it is first?” Vin asked as he faced Rain in the doorway.
“I recognized your knock,” Rain assured him. “What’s that?”
She pointed to the dark brown table Vin carried in his arms.
“It’s for Sami,” Vin said, placing the table down in the living room.
“I’ve been living across the hall from you for a year now and I’ve never once gotten anything more than a curtain rod. Sami’s here a few days and she gets this?” Rain teased.
Vin blushed slightly.
“Ooh, I’ve struck a nerve.” Rain laughed. Then she called into the kitchen, “Sami, come here. You’ve got to see this!”
“What’s up?” Sami asked as she came out of the kitchen. “Hey, Vin. What’s doing?”
“It’s what Vin’s been doing,” Rain said as she pointed to the beautiful wooden table. “Making this for you.”
Vin pointed at the table. “It’s a drafting table. I thought you might need it now that you’re working at Ted Fromme.”
Sami walked over and ran her fingers over the smooth, lightly stained wood. Vin had constructed the table so that the top could be tilted at different angles. There were spaces for pens, and rulers, and other tools a designer might use. At the top he’d gracefully carved the letters “SG,” her initials. It was the most beautiful thing Sami had ever seen.
Suddenly, the tears she’d been holding in for the past twenty-four hours came crashing out of her body like a tidal wave.
Vin stared at her with surprise. “Not exactly the reception I was expecting. Is something wrong?”
Sami shook her head. “It’s beautiful,” she told him through her tears. “I just wish I could use it. I don’t think I’ll be doing much designing anymore.”
It took Vin a minute to figure out what Sami meant. As it became clear, he walked over and gently draped his arm around her, and let the tears flow onto his shoulder. After a moment he said, “Don’t stop drawing just because of one guy’s opinion. He’s only a junior designer.”
Sami shook her head. “It wasn’t Bruce. It was Ted Fromme.”
“Bruce actually showed your designs to him?” Rain asked with surprise.
“Of course,” Sami told her. “He said
he would. But it doesn’t matter, because Ted didn’t like them. He said my work was amateurish.”
“Ted Fromme told you that?” Vin asked.
“Well, not exactly. But that’s what he told Bruce, and—”
Vin’s body tensed. “Bruce …,” he started with a quiet anger. “So you didn’t actually speak to Ted Fromme.”
Sami shrugged. “What does it matter? I got the message. Ted Fromme doesn’t think my stuff is professional enough.”
“What does Ted Fromme know?” Rain butted in. “He may be today’s news, but you’re tomorrow’s big star. Someday he’ll be begging you for work! Then you can tell him he’s an amateur!” She pounded her fist on the desk for emphasis.
“Hey, take it easy,” Vin warned, rubbing his hand lovingly over the hand-carved wood. “It’s not made of titanium, you know.”
Sami stared at Rain with surprise. Her outburst was so intense that Sami couldn’t help but laugh. “You guys are the best,” she said.
Rain nodded. “You know it.”
“Common knowledge,” Vin added.
“No, I mean it,” Sami said. “I was about to give up on drawing.”
“Oh, we’d never let you do that,” Vin assured her.
Rain came up beside Sami and put her arm around her so that the three of them were all standing side by side. “We take care of one another,” she told Sami.
“Like family,” Vin suggested.
Rain shook her head. “Nah. We’re better than family. We’re the Three Musketeers. One for all and all for one.”
Sami sniffed at the air. The scent of herbed chicken was very powerful. “Vin, you’ll stay, won’t you? There’s plenty of food.”
Vin looked at Rain. “She cooks, too?”
Rain nodded. “She’s a woman of many talents, our Sami.”
Vin watched as Sami walked toward the kitchen. “Tell me about it,” he agreed. Then, as soon as she was out of earshot, he whispered to Rain, “Where’s Bruce? Shouldn’t he be consoling her?”
Rain shrugged. “I think he’s busy with his own work. Sami said she wasn’t going to see him until Saturday.”
Vin frowned. “That guys a piece of work.”
Eleven
As it turned out, Sami never got to see Bruce that weekend.
She’d waited for him to mention something on Friday, but he was in meetings with Ted Fromme the whole day, and they never got to speak. On Saturday, she sat with her mind so focused on the phone that Rain teased her mercilessly that her ear would drop off if she stretched it any farther. But there was still no call from Bruce. Rain had suggested that Sami call him if she wanted to talk to him so badly. But Sami was forced to admit that he’d never given her his phone number. Sami tried hard to ignore the fact that Rain wasn’t surprised to hear that.
By the time Sami got to work on Monday there was an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was terribly wrong. Bruce didn’t make her feel any better when he arrived at the office early Monday morning. He breezed past Sami’s desk with barely a hello. Sami had smiled and tried to catch his attention, but Bruce’s mind seemed focused elsewhere.
Sami didn’t have long to bemoan the fact that Bruce seemed to be ignoring her. Ted Fromme arrived at the office at 9:00 A.M. He seemed exceptionally excited.
“Sami, please send out an e-mail to the entire staff. I need everyone in the boardroom at 10:00 A.M. sharp for a staff meeting. That means you, too. I have a big announcement, and I think it’s one you’ll want to hear.”
“Really?”
Ted laughed. “Don’t think you can get it out of me by batting those big blue eyes,” he teased. “It’s a surprise.”
By the time ten o’clock rolled around, everyone who worked at Ted Fromme Fashions had come up with his or her own theory about what the meeting would be about.
“Do you think Ted has merged with Ralph Lauren?” Suzi in accounting wondered. “There was that rumor going around.”
“I heard it was with Tommy Hilfiger,” Emma, a secretary in the marketing department, countered.
“Maybe he’s bringing in a big-name designer to spruce up the spring line,” suggested Jackson from sales.
“Do you think he’s opening a European office?” Justine, one of the junior designers, asked hopefully. “I would love to work in Paris, or maybe Milan.”
“You don’t think he’s closing us down, do you?” Alex, the computer tech expert, asked nervously. “I just bid on a co-op in Park Slope.”
As Ted strolled into the giant conference room at 10:00 on the dot, it was easy to see that he enjoyed the suspense his call for a meeting had created. While Ted walked to the front of the room, his ever present cup of coffee in hand, Sami searched the conference room looking for Bruce, even though she knew instinctively that he wasn’t there yet. She’d developed a kind of sixth sense where Bruce was concerned: She could feel his presence when he entered a room.
Finally, Bruce appeared in the doorway. He stood there for a moment, his arms filled with large pieces of sketch paper. When he was certain that all eyes were upon him, Bruce entered the room, strutting toward Ted.
Sami blushed as Bruce placed the sketches on a large easel and sat leisurely on top of the conference table, his arms folded nonchalantly across his chest. It was the exact same pose he’d taken that night when they’d stayed late together. She wondered if Bruce was remembering the same thing. But as she looked across the room she didn’t spot any glimmer of remembrance in Bruce’s moss-green eyes. Instead, she got the distinct impression he was avoiding her glance, focusing on Ted instead.
“Okay, boys and girls,” Ted called out in a voice that wasn’t very loud. Ted had a habit of speaking softly at meetings. Interestingly enough, his low tone had a much stronger effect than a loud, booming voice. People automatically quieted down when he spoke, focusing on his every word to make sure that they heard him correctly. “I’ll end your suspense right now. As you know, we’ve been looking for some fresh designs for our new show. And I’ve found them. I’d like you all to be the first to witness the Bruce Jamison line, specially designed for Ted Fromme Fashions!”
Sami gasped. Ted was giving Bruce his own line! No wonder Bruce had been too busy to call me all weekend. He and Ted had probably been in meetings the whole time. She smiled broadly, hoping her expression would show him just how excited and proud she felt.
“So, let’s take a look, shall we?” Ted said, unveiling the first in a series of sketches. Sami turned her head, anxious to see what Bruce had come up with. She realized suddenly that he’d never once shown her his work. Now she would get a chance to see the kind of style Bruce was interested in.
What she saw made her stomach drop—and her blood pressure rise.
The sketch Ted had just displayed was of a pink-and-white gingham ankle-length sleeveless dress. It was Sami’s dress—the one she’d shown Bruce that night in the boardroom!
“You see, this is what I’ve been looking for,” Ted explained. “Bruce, how was it you described your line? Oh, yes. Clothes that will make women feel young and fresh, but still look professional.”
Sami’s heart was pounding wildly now. That was exactly how she’d described her designs to Bruce. He’d not only stolen her work, he’d stolen her words.
Ted flipped the page once again to show a cotton summer suit that featured an asymmetrically hemmed cream-colored skirt and a black-and-cream blouse that laced across the chest. “Now this design is incredibly unique, not just because of the look, but because of the fabric Bruce is considering.”
“This one will look like suede, but it will really be made of brushed cotton, so it can have that Southwestern flair, without being heavy,” Bruce explained.
He flipped the page to show Sami’s black A-line dress with a lace bodice. “Almost every woman looks good in an A-line dress,” Bruce continued, quoting what he’d heard Sami say. “This just adds a certain twist.”
“I think this will be a big seller for us,”
Ted continued. “I’m thinking of putting it out there in several colors, maybe patterns, too. It could be as big as the wrap dress was in the seventies.”
Sami couldn’t believe what was happening. At first it was all too surreal to digest. But the realization came fast and furious: Bruce had stolen her designs, every one of them.
How could she have been so stupid? She’d trusted him, and the only truth he’d ever told her was that he’d shown the designs to Ted. Unfortunately, he’d passed them off as his own.
Suddenly, all the anger inside her boiled over. Sami couldn’t control herself. “Those are mine!” she shouted out, right in front of everyone. “Bruce, tell him those designs are mine!”
Bruce stared at Sami as though he’d never seen her before. “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” he swore to Ted.
“You liar! You asked me to show you my portfolio, and then you stole my designs.”
“Sami, what is the meaning of this?” Ted asked, his voice growing softer as his irritation became apparent.
“I designed those dresses, Ted. And lots more like them.” She pointed to Bruce. “He told me you thought they were unprofessional.”
“Sami, this isn’t the time or place,” Ted said calmly. “If you have some work you’d like to show me, we can make an appointment.”
“I don’t need an appointment,” Sami insisted. “You’ve already seen my work. It’s right there!”
A murmur ran through the room. Everyone was talking at once. “Okay, let’s quiet down,” Ted said. “The show’s over. Go back to work. Bruce, can I see you in my office?”
For a moment, Sami thought that Ted believed her. But as she caught a glimpse of Bruce walking behind his boss, she knew in an instant that Bruce would never let that happen. He shot her an angry look that plainly broadcast his warning: Don’t try it. You’re sure to lose.
Sami had no doubt that was true. Bruce was a master at making people believe what he wanted them to. And there was no way he was going to lose his chance to be a big-name designer. Not for Sami … not for anyone. He’d simply tell Ted that she was a lunatic. Or that she was out to destroy him because they’d had a doomed love affair. Anything to save his own neck. And there was no doubt that Ted would believe him.