by Nancy Krulik
“That’s exactly what we want,” the tall woman agreed. “Nico told us you gave her the most beautiful demure lingerie.” Her eyes went over toward a black see-through teddy hanging on the wall. “But I don’t know if—”
“Oh, this is just our off-the-rack merchandise,” Lola quickly assured her. “Sami’s custom designs have a very different look and feel.”
“Oh, of course,” the tall woman replied.
“Sami, why don’t you take these two clients into the office for a consultation?” Lola continued. “I can handle the traffic out here.”
Still a bit bemused, Sami nodded and led the women back into Lola’s office. On the way she grabbed a tape measure and a pad of plain paper and a pen. She wasn’t quite sure what it was like to actually be a lingerie designer, but at the very least, she was determined to look the part.
Fourteen
Sami’s career wasn’t the only one on the upswing. Rain had spent the past few weeks focusing all her energy on getting ready for the Mollie Mack fashion show. The week had finally arrived. And now, Rain was backstage getting ready to go down a runway for the very first time, and Vin and Sami were there to witness the event.
“This is so exciting!” Sami whispered to Vin as they took their seats at the Mollie Mack fall fashion show. Rain had gotten them tickets for the event. It was Sami’s first fashion show, and the excitement was almost overwhelming.
Vin, on the other hand, seemed decidedly nonplussed by the event. “I hope she doesn’t trip or anything.”
Sami looked at him, surprised. “Vin, how could you say that? Do you want to give Rain bad luck?”
Vin shook his head. “Sorry. It was just a joke. It’s just that I’m sort of uncomfortable in this type of situation. Do I look like the kind of guy who’s into fashion?”
Sami smiled. Despite the fact that Vin had tried to dress up for Rain’s big night, he hadn’t quite succeeded. His pants were just a little too tight, and his shirt had a tiny stain on the collar. At least his sport jacket, bought especially for the evening, fit him well, although the color made his skin look too olive.
“You just need the right girl to dress you,” Sami suggested.
“That’s just what I was thinking….” He blinked suddenly as a photographer’s flash went off right in his eyes. “What the—”
“I think he was taking a picture of Madonna. She’s sitting right there, two rows ahead of us. Wow! Madonna! Can you believe it? She’s gorgeous in person.”
Vin shot Sami a playful glance. “She’s not my type. I’m into someone—”
Sami grabbed his sleeve excitedly as an idea brewed in her mind. “Hey! You should ask Rain to fix you up with one of her friends from this show. I’ve met most of them. They’re amazing!”
Vin’s face fell. “That’s not quite what I had in mind.”
Before Sami could say another word, the music began. One by one the models came out, dressed in the hottest new Mollie Mack fall fashions. Camera flashes went off wildly as each girl took the stage, and video cameramen vied for the best spot to shoot the show. Fashion writers—all of whom seemed to be dressed in nearly identical chic black suits—scribbled notes frantically as the girls went by.
This year Mollie had gone with a total retro look—a throwback to her days on Carnaby Street. The music was all sixties and seventies period pieces as the girls strutted down the vividly painted multi-tiered catwalk, dressed in wetlook miniskirts, high go-go boots, and blouses in outrageous colors like electric orange and hot pink. The models were so heavily made up that Sami barely recognized Rain beneath the wild hair, dark black eyeliner, and huge false eyelashes. The fashion show was classic Mollie Mack, and by the sound of the appreciative murmur in the audience, it was another huge hit for the designer.
But Vin wasn’t so sure that the clothes were anything great. In fact, as he and Sami left the show, he did nothing but complain. “Who could wear that stuff?” he asked. “Why doesn’t she design things for real people?”
Sami couldn’t argue. In a way, she’d been thinking the same thing. The Mollie Mack show was almost a costume performance—much like many of the other big designers’ shows. It was as though their goal was to set a tone for the fashion industry, knowing full well that only jet-setters and celebs could ever really wear their overpriced, overdesigned clothing.
“And that set,” Vin continued as he and Sami headed outside to wait for Rain near the backstage exit. “What were they thinking? It was completely overdone. The designer and the carpenter should have gone with something much simpler. That way, the colors wouldn’t have been competing with the clothes.”
“Wow,” Sami said. “I hadn’t noticed that. You’re right. My eye was going all over the place, but I couldn’t figure out why.”
“Sometimes it takes a carpenter to point things like that out,” Vin told her. “It’s just something you pick up over the years.”
“You have an artist’s eye,” Sami told him.
“I am an artist,” Vin said proudly. “My medium is wood. Sure, I install cabinets and wall moldings. But that’s just my day job. The furniture I make, that’s my art. Every piece I build is part of me.”
Sami’s mind thought back to the magnificent drafting table in her apartment. It was a piece of art. And a part of Vin. A true sign of friendship. She gave his hand a little squeeze.
Vin looked at her oddly, but didn’t say anything.
“Look, there’s Rain!” Sami shouted, letting go of Vin’s hand to run over to her roommate, who was coming out of the models’ dressing room and onto the sidewalk, where Vin and Sami were waiting for her.
“You were awesome!” Sami praised her as she ran over toward Rain.
“Do you really think so?” Rain asked hopefully.
Sami nodded. Rain’s sudden insecurity surprised Sami. She always seemed so tough and assured. This small glimpse of a need for approval had popped up out of nowhere.
“What did you think?” Rain asked Vin.
“You didn’t trip,” Vin teased. “That was good.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” Rain laughed. “I did my best.”
“In fact, you were the one good part of the show,” Vin continued. “The only model with any character.”
“You really stood out,” Sami agreed.
“I was the only one with red hair. That helped,” Rain explained.
“No, it was more than that,” Sami said. “You were having fun up there, and it showed. When I’m a big designer, I’m only going to cast models who can have a good time on the runway.” She started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Rain asked her.
“The thought of me as a big designer,” Sami said. “So far in my career as a professional designer, I’ve only sold six nightgowns.”
“I don’t think it’s funny,” Vin said.
“Me either,” Rain seconded. “You gotta start somewhere. I have big dreams for us, Sam.”
“For us?” Sami said.
“Oh, yeah,” Rain grinned. “Since I’m the one who rescued you from the hellhole known as the Beresford Arms, I get first dibs on being the face of Sami Granger Designs.”
“Speaking of faces …,” Vin said, laughing.
Sami joined in, giggling uncontrollably.
“What’s so funny?” Rain demanded.
Vin pointed to the window glass in one of the neighboring stores. Rain glanced at her reflection. Her face was still made up heavily, with deep blush on her cheeks, liquid blue eyeshadow, white lipstick, and humongous black eyelashes that looked like spider’s legs. While the effect was dramatic on stage, it was genuinely creepy close up.
“Ooo, I’m so Baby Jane.” Rain grimaced.
“Do you want to clean up before we go out and celebrate?” Sami asked her.
Rain shook her head. “Let’s go back to our neighborhood. I’ll fit in just fine over there. Anything goes in the East Village, right?”
Lola was on the phone when Sami arrived at Benea
th the Sheets early the next morning. Sami got to work immediately, going into the stockroom and pulling out a box of scented candles. She grabbed a ladder and began to arrange the candles on a high shelf behind the counter.
“Okay, thank you,” Lola said, hanging up the phone. Then she looked up at Sami. “Oh no, you’ve got more important things to do today.”
“But these just came in …”
Lola held up a stack of papers. “Do you know what these are?” she asked Sami.
Sami shook her head.
“They’re orders for nightgowns, baby dolls, and nightshirts. And every one of these women wants you to design for her!”
Sami almost fell off the ladder.
“Whoa, be careful,” Lola warned, helping her down. “I don’t want to lose the girl who’s putting this little love shack on the map.”
“But there must be fifteen orders,” Sami said, shocked as she flipped through the papers.
“Oh, no. Not that many. There’s actually only fourteen. But some of them are for two or three items, so maybe it’s more like twenty.”
“But how …”
“Those two girls from Casablanca Magazines must have told their friends. And they told their friends. And so on … and so on,” Lola said, imitating a classic shampoo commercial.
“But so many orders?” Sami said, sitting down, hard, on the floor. “There’s tons to do here in the store all day. If I were going to make all these I’d have to work every night for a month, and even then I don’t think …” Her stomach was turning over.
Lola shook her head. “I’ve got it all figured out. You’re going to set up shop in the back office and design full time. I’ll hire someone else to work out here. Maybe that kid Nico, the one who started you off. She’s looking for something permanent, right?”
Sami jumped up. “Lola, you would really do that for me?” she asked.
Lola nodded. “Look, I’m a businesswoman, and your designs are going to bring in cash. But hell, I’d help you even if they wouldn’t earn me a dime. Sami, you’re one of the real ones. There aren’t many of us left. We gotta stick together.” She paused. “But there is one thing….”
“Anything,” Sami assured her.
“We gotta see a lawyer.”
“Why?”
“I want to make sure we make everything official between us. If you’re going to be a designer, you’re going to have to make sure you get everything that’s coming to you. You have to set up a business account at the bank, and have a lawyer who can handle setting up small businesses. I can’t keep paying you commissions in twenty-dollar bills.”
“But I trust you.”
“I know you do. But you gotta think big. Bigger than this place. Sure, I’d love to have an exclusive deal with you, but that can’t last forever.”
Sami was confused. “What? What are you talking about?”
“You’re destined for huge things, sugar pie,” Lola said. “It’s in your aura. And I just want to make sure that some nasty Bruce Jamison character can’t come along and cheat you out of everything you deserve.”
Sami could feel the tears building up in her eyes. This woman had no reason to take care of her. And yet that was exactly what she was doing. Taking care of her like a mother. Better than a mother, in fact, if Sami’s own mother was the barometer of maternal instinct. Sami reached out and hugged Lola tight.
Lola let the girl cry for a moment, clearly unsure what this sudden surge of emotion was all about, but instinctively knowing that Sami had to let it out. Finally, she loosened Sami’s grip, handed her a tissue, and gave her a smile. “Enough of this mush,” she said. “Do you think the head of IBM sobs like a baby every time he gets an order for a computer? This is a business, right?”
Sami smiled. “Right.”
“So you get in the back and start calling those women to make appointments for consultations and fittings. I’ll call a lawyer friend of mine and get you an appointment.”
“You know a lawyer?” Sami asked incredulously.
“What, you think the only people I know are the lovelorn and drag queens?” Lola asked. “I’ve got plenty of friends with desk jobs. I just don’t like to admit it too often.”
It was a few days later when Rain called Sami at work. “You’re not going to believe who just called this house,” Rain gushed excitedly into the phone.
“Ashton Kutcher?” Sami asked.
“I wish.” Rain laughed.
“Brad Pitt?” Sami teased. “Justin Timberlake?”
“Now you’re ruining the surprise.”
“Why?” Sami asked. “Did Justin really call?”
“No. It’s just that after those names, I guess Genevieve Bluster doesn’t mean much.”
Sami gasped. Genevieve Bluster was the editor of Fashionista magazine—the bible of the young fashion world.
“Genevieve Bluster called our apartment?” Sami asked incredulously. “Does she want you to do a cover?”
“She wasn’t calling me. She was calling you. She wants to do a story—oh, I’m sorry, a piece—on you for their next issue.” The last few words were practically screamed into the phone.
“It had to be a joke,” Sami said, refusing to believe this was happening to her.
“No joke,” Rain assured her. “I’d know that fake French accent anywhere. I’ve met her at about a thousand different parties from the agency.”
“But—”
“No buts about it, Sam. I don’t know why you’re so surprised. Fashionista is part of the Casablanca Magazines publishing group. Your designs have been circulating around that place for days now.”
It was true. Thanks to Nico’s temping job, Sami had gotten a big in with a fashion magazine company. Sami made a mental note to do something incredibly nice for Lola’s new shop girl.
“Oh, my God,” Sami gasped as the realization began to set in. “What do I do now?”
“Well, for starters, call Genevieve back and tell her that tomorrow is just fine to meet with her reporter. Then meet me at home.”
“Why?” Sami asked.
“Because we’ve got to work on your makeup, get your hair cut, and pick out a Sami Granger original for you to wear.”
“I have to get all done up to meet a reporter?” Sami asked nervously.
“Genevieve is sending a photographer too. And not just any photographer. She’s sending the hottest one around: Franklin Beane!”
After jumping around the store with Lola and Nico, Sami exhausted herself enough to make a relatively calm call to a woman who could literally make or break a designers career. Fortunately, Genevieve was all “oui” and “vous” and running in a million directions. Sami spent more time on the phone with one of her assistants than confirming the appointment with the woman herself.
As soon as Sami hung up the phone with Genevieve Bluster, she made another call—to Elk Lake. Celia sounded weary as she answered the phone.
“Hey, Ceil, are you okay?” Sami asked.
“Sami. Long time no hear. How you been?”
Sami felt a twinge of guilt at that. It had been a while since she’d called Celia. “I’m sorry it’s been so long,” she said. “But things’ve been crazy here. I’ve been designing and sewing day and night.”
“Sounds like things are picking up at Beneath the Sheets.”
“Slowly,” Sami told her. “People seem to really like the lingerie I’m designing. “
“Funny the places life takes you,” Celia mused. “You never designed any lingerie before. It wasn’t like you were the fashion queen of the slumber parties either. You always slept in your dad’s old shirts. “
“I know. And now those shirts are the inspiration for a lot of my nightshirts,” Sami explained. “And you’re never going to believe this,” Sami told her. “Tomorrow, I’m meeting with a reporter and photographer from Fashionista magazine! They want to do a piece on me. Me! Can you believe it?”
Sami had expected her best friend to be really excited.
But, curiously, Celia was nonplussed. “Of course I believe it,” Celia said. “You’ve always been great. Now other people are seeing it too. But Sami, a piece like that could get you a lot of work.”
“I know, isn’t that cool?”
“Well, that doesn’t leave you much time for …”
“For what?” Sami asked.
“Well, for romance. I mean, you haven’t had a date since that Bruce jerk,” Celia said.
“Who needs romance? I’m going to be in Fashionista!”
Celia sighed. “It’s wonderful, Sami, it really is. But don’t you wish you had someone special to share it with?”
Now it was Sami’s turn to sigh. Celia just wasn’t getting it. “I am sharing it with someone. With you.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Celia said.
“Look, Celia, you live your life, and I live mine. I have different goals from yours.”
“Do you think being a mother before I was twenty was in my game plan?” Celia blurted out.
Sami grew quiet. Celia had always been so supportive. And she seemed so happy with Al. It had never occurred to her that she might be jealous of Sami’s life. Or maybe it was just those pregnancy hormones talking. Either way, Sami hadn’t expected this response from her best friend. “Celia, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought you’d be excited for me.”
“You know, you only call when something exciting is happening to you,” Celia replied tartly. “You don’t call just to say hi, or ask how I am, or how your brother is. I’m not so sure your father wasn’t right about you moving to New York.”
That stung. Suddenly, Sami’s guilt about not calling was blanketed with a sheet of raw anger. “Well, its not like you’ve been calling me either!” she spat out.
“I left you a message just last week. You never called me back.”
Sami thought back for a minute. She vaguely remembered seeing a message from Celia. She’d meant to give her a call that night, but she’d had a client to meet with, and then she’d gone out for pierogis with Rain and Vin. After that, the message must’ve gotten buried.
“If you’d called, you would have known that I’ve been having more trouble with my blood pressure. It was pretty scary,” Celia informed her curtly.