by Rebecca Foxx
“Miss. Brail, you must be joking.” I interrupt her, “I mean-”
She holds up her hand. “Don’t interrupt me, dear. Listen, do this for me, and I will be sure to do something for you. You did a great job for me on Saturday, but I know you’re not interested, really, in being a buyer. You want to design, right?”
My eyes widened, “Yes, of course.”
“Well, I think you should seriously consider your future here, Anne, unless you want to continue getting my coffee every morning.” She starts to shoo me out of her office, “Now go on! I have a lot of work to do this morning.”
I exit the office, still gripping the design folder in my hands. I go and sit down at my desk; I’m sure there is still a look of shock on my face. “Everything all right?” Gary questions as I hide the folder under some of my own files, not wanting him to ask me permission to take an early glance at the designs.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say anxiously, “everything’s fine.”
Chapter 7
Mark
I can tell that Alex thinks I’m an idiot. He hasn’t said it yet, but I can tell that he is thinking it. There is a long pause before Alex finally smacks me in the back of the head. “In love? You just met her last weekend!”
“Back off, man. You’re the idiot who bought a ring for a girl pretending to be Russian.” I remind him.
“I didn’t give it to her, though. I just got a little caught up in the moment.” He says.
“Caught up in the moment? You left your house, went to the mall, bought a ring, and carried it around for a week thinking about how to ask her.” I shove him as we are headed into our office building. We have a busy day at work, but I will be seeing Anne this evening so I’m up for tackling anything.
After a long day at work, it’s finally time. I have not seen Anne all week, and I find myself almost giddy at the thought of seeing her. Alex laughs at me as I attempt to get out the door as quickly as possible. “It won’t last.” Alex says.
“She’s not a Tiffany.” I say to him, “It will last.”
Before heading home I stop by a book store and browse for a bit before coming across a copy of Of Love and Other Demons. Perfect. I think she’ll like it. I buy the book and stop by a florist as well before heading home, getting a bouquet of roses. Wow. When was the last time I bought flowers for a woman I actually liked? Probably high school.
I quickly get showered and pick out a nice suit. We won’t be going to Paris or anything like that, but I am taking her somewhere nice for dinner. This time my driver and I will actually be picking her up at her apartment. I feel somewhat suave, but there is still a hint of anxiety in my chest. When we arrive at her apartment I knock on the door and she answers wearing a stunning dress. “You look gorgeous.” I say to her, and she blushes as I hand her the roses. She insists on putting them on water before we go.
Once in the back of the car, I show her the carefully wrapped gift. “Mark, you didn’t have to get me anything.” She says, but I insist. She unwraps the copy of Of Love and Other Demons and suddenly her face sinks. “That’s so thoughtful.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask. Clearly something is on her mind.
“I have to come clean.” She says, not making eye contact with me. I wait for her to continue. She nervously taps on her book before she asks, “Remember how I thought you were a clothing buyer?”
I chuckle, “Yes, I remember.”
“I’m not the only one who made a mistake in identity.” She says, “Mark, I’m not a model. I’m an assistant for Miss. Brail at Brail and Boyars Fashion Enterprises. I was filling in for a clothing purchaser that day at the fashion show.”
Well that certainly explains a lot. She is looking at me with these sad eyes as though she expects me to just call it off because she’s not some fashion model. Is she serious? Last weekend was the most fun I have ever had in my life. “Anne, I don’t care if you’re a model or not. I love you.”
“Love me?” she smiles, “You hardly know me.”
“I know enough.” I say.
Honestly, the way I see it, its water under the bridge. I could not care less what Anne does for a living. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. We head to dinner, and I tease her about her little white lie about being a model. She could definitely be a model. Now when we talk about fashion she is able to tell me more about her work instead of tip-toeing around what she actually does. Her job actually sounds somewhat interesting, and I respect her aspirations to become a designer.
Everything is going great until halfway through dinner she whips out a folder full of designs for me to look at. “Are these your designs?” I ask.
She laughs, “I wish. They’re Miss. Brail’s.”
“I would rather see some of your designs.” I say while flipping through the drawings.
“Yeah, well, that’s not what Miss. Brail wants you to see.” She says with a slight eye roll.
I’m slightly confused by what she means. I stare at her for a moment, waiting for a better explanation. The waiter appears out of nowhere asking whether or not we will be ordering dessert. “Give us a minute,” I say and the server disappears. I look back at Anne.
She nervously says, “Miss. Brail wants me to ask you about being our spokesperson for the new line.”
Something doesn’t feel right. I suddenly feel like I’m missing something. I glare at Anne. “So that’s it, then?” I question her. “You’ve been playing me.”
“What?” she acts defensive. Almost too defensive.
I slam some money down on the table, “Your little fib- was this all some sort of scam to get me to sign my name to a damn label?”
“What? No, of course not!” She snaps.
I cross my arms. “Did your boss send you to that show last week so you can flirt it up with me?”
Anne suddenly stand upright. She looks pissed, but I’m not buying it. “No, she didn’t. She sent me to look at some clothes for her boutique.” Anne crosses her arms too.
“And when I mistook you for a model I bet you and your boss thought you could win me over, is that right?” I question and then I stand up to, but I’m not sure why.
Anne snaps, “No, asshole. Miss. Brail just saw our picture in a magazine. She didn’t even know about you until Monday when the magazine came out with our faces all over the place. You really think I’d sleep around just to please my boss? To trick you?”
“Anne-” I now realize how paranoid I sounded, but now she’s fuming.
“Screw you.” She turns on her toes and marches right out of the restaurant. I’m pretty sure I just made a huge mistake. “Anne, wait!” I shout after her, but she’s already gone.
Chapter 8
Anne
“Anne, dear, you are in the big leagues now.” Miss. Brail says to me from backstage.
We’re here strictly at a PR stunt. She’s making nice with some other designer, and it’s pretty amazing that she’s invited me along. Honestly, even though she’s the dragon lady, I think she feels a little guilty about playing a role in mine and Mark’s break up. After he basically accused me of being a complete slut and sleeping with him just to get him to sign his name for her, I went into work that next Monday and told Miss. Brail all about it. While I’m not normally one to get emotional at work, I might have been a little teary eyed in her office that day. I’m pretty sure she realizes she stepped over the line in making me use my, still fairly new, relationship to her advantage. She’s still a complete bitch towards me, but things are getting better.
Miss. Brail has me taking down notes for her. Anything she likes or doesn’t like. Any agreements to meet up with other designers. Basically I’m just following her around with a clipboard, but hey, I’m backstage at the fashion show. I can’t complain. Miss. Brail even introduces me to one of the Demetri Twins- high end designers whose show I had been to just a few weeks ago. I frown. Their show was where I had met Mark.
“Oh, Anne!” Speak of the devil. I spin around, surprised t
o see Mark backstage at this show. He’s drunk. Oh holy shit.
“Mark?” I question as though I refuse to believe my eyes.
He comes wobbling up to Miss. Brail and me. “We need to talk.” He says.
Miss. Brail does not look impressed, “Mr. Stone?” she asks.
“Fuck you.” He says, his words slurred.
This is not good. I grab Mark by his arm, “You need to go, now.”
“Not until you talk to me.” He says.
“No.” I say back, “What the hell,” I whisper, “did you follow me here?”
“Anne, I’m sorry.” He grumbles.
“Mark, let’s go. I’m walking you out, and you’re going home,” I say firmly and squeeze his arm when I see the annoyed look on Miss. Brail’s face. The models and the designers who are getting ready backstage all look equally disturbed.
“No!” Mark yanks his arm away from me, and he winds up tumbling. To keep himself from completely falling over he grabs onto me, but instead of keeping him upright he just pulls me with him. The two of us go tumbling, and Mark reaches out for anything he can grab. He winds up grabbing a model around the collar of her dress, and he tears her dress in two on the way down. The woman screams and attempts to cover herself. The designer of the dress screams even louder.
The next thing I know, Miss, Brail and the dresses designer are screaming at one another. “Is this the type of people you have working for you, Deb?” the designer says to Miss. Brail, his voice raised.
I cover my face in embarrassment. Mark is sitting next to me on the floor, rubbing his chin where he had hit the ground. “Of course not!” Miss. Brail snaps and then her dragon eyes dart towards me, “Anne, you’re fired. Get out of here, now!”
“Miss. Brail!” I start to stand up to argue my case, but she spins around and walks off. I glare at Mark. “You’re a fucking asshole.” I leave Mark drunk on the floor and hurry out of the building.
***
Five months later…
My feet hurt. My head hurts. I wreak of beer and tequila. I hate bars. I mean, I really hate bars! I want to just go home and sleep. And that’s just what I’m going to do. I never thought I would wind up waiting tables again. I haven’t done that shit since college. I drag myself back to my apartment building, my shoulders slumped after a long shift. My cell phone rings. It’s Gary. I answer, my voice groggy, “What?” I snap.
“What’s up!” his voice is annoyingly perky.
“Just got off work.” I say.
“Still waiting tables?” he asks.
“Unfortunately. I had a few interviews, but without a descent reference from Miss. Brail I’m kind of screwed. I’ll have to start back at the bottom.” I say as I begin the climb up the flight of stairs that lead to my apartment.
“So it’s been rough, huh?” he asks.
“I’d say.”
“What if I told you your day is about to get a hell of a lot better?” he is practically squealing.
I roll my eyes just as I reach my door, “What are you up to, Gary?” I open up the door to my apartment and notice a large manila envelope had been shoved under my door.
“You at your apartment yet?” he asks, “Do you see the envelope?”
“What the hell are you up to, Gary?” I ask as I bend over to pick up the envelope.
“You have to promise not to be mad.” He says cheerfully.
“I don’t like the sound of that.” I say, holding the phone with my ear and shoulder so that I can open the envelope.
“Have you opened it yet?” he asks.
“Doing it now.” I say. Inside are Miss. Brails latest designs for the spring collection. At first I’m not paying enough attention to notice, but suddenly my eyes widen at the discovery. “Gary… what did you do? Gary?” he hung up on me! I put my phone down for a moment to stare at the designs. These are my designs! My designs- and they have Miss. Brails famous signature at the bottom- evidence of her approval to go into the collection.
“Are you surprised?” I hear a voice I have not heard in sometime.
I spin around and see Mark standing in my apartment holding a rose out to me. I slap it away, “What is this?”
“I owe you a real apology. And a sober one.” He says.
I cross my arms. “You could have just called.”
“You were ignoring my calls.” He reminds me.
I hold up the designs, “What is this about?”
“I went and spoke with Miss. Brail. I wanted to try to get you your job back.” He says, “So I offered to be her spokesperson for her new line. I also invested in the company.”
I stare at him curiously, “You did that for me?”
“Yes. But I had three conditions.” He says; now he’s smiling.
I take the rose from him. “What were your conditions?”
“She had to use some of your designs.” He says, “And she had to hire you back as a designer.”
My heart is racing. “And she agreed to that?”
“She said she loved your designs.” Mark says.
“And what was your third condition?” I ask.
“I got to be the one to tell you.” He grins. “Do you forgive me?”
I can hardly believe what is happening. I look at the papers full of my old designs. Obviously Gary had helped Mark pull this off; he probably gave Mark a key to my apartment. Damn, Gary sure is desperate to set me up with someone to get his girlfriend off his back. I get to go work for Miss. Brail again… and as a designer? That was my dream- wasn’t it? I smile and step towards Mark. I place my hands on his shoulders and lean in. “I suppose I have to forgive you, don’t I?” I ask.
“Well, just in case you’re still a little mad, I do have something fun in mind that might make you like me again.” He says as he puts his hands on my hips.
“Oh? And what’s that?” I ask.
“Well, you’ve seen one of the major fashion cities now. I’m thinking about a trip to London next. And New York. Tokyo. And Milan. I’ll even let you drag me to as many fashion shows as you want.” He leans in and gently kisses my cheek.
“Well that does sound promising.” I say giddily.
“I do have one more thing in mind.” He says.
“And what’s that?” I ask.
Mark suddenly grabs me, pulling me tight into his arms. He pulls my feet out from under me, picking me up and planting another kiss on my cheek. Without saying another word, Mark and I make our way back to my bedroom. It seems like, in one fell swoop, I finally have gotten everything I ever wanted.
THE END
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One Knight Stand
Chapter One
William saw the plane arriving in New York. It was like a second home to him, but he knew that in this land, he was also seen as a superstar. In Great Britain, where he was from, he was always seen as a man who was not only infamous, but also wealthy and charming.
He was a knighted man, a lord who knew of the best ways to not only stay just tottering on the edge of his family’s good side, but also knew how to be the bad boy that girls dreamed of.
He was in town for a business meeting, but he was also curious about the way everything would go. His brown hair nestled along the edge of his face, and his blue eyes scanned the area.
“I wonder what type of girls I’ll be seeing,” he said to himself with a chirp.
That was the appeal of William. He was a lady killer, and also a man who never liked to listen to his family. He already knew when he got off this plane that he would have a cacophony of messages from his mother telling him that she knew about his recent escapades in morocco.
The thing about William, was that he was a bad boy, but he also had a head on his shoulders, so he knew how to run the company successfully while still getting in trouble.
“We have arrived. Please remain seated until the fasten seatbelt sig
n turns off. We hope you have a wonderful day!” the announcer barked into the microphone.
“Thank god. I was getting sick of staying in here,” he muttered to himself.
He got up, being in the first row of the private first class like always, and soon he started to move towards the baggage claim. When he did so, his elbow accidentally brushed against the edge he turned, he heard the small yelp of shock.
“Hey! Watch where your elbow is going, mister!” she cried out.