by Angela Price
“Okay, thanks for explaining. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but this group is not something I’m interested in joining. I want you to understand that from the get-go. Are we clear?”
He nods. “I understand, Sadie. It’s not for everybody. But you’re going to meet these people in other venues. Selling them something this personal is going to guarantee your future financial success. And your lingerie…” He trails off. I take it that he likes the designs. He must, to have such a potentially embarrassing conversation.
“I guess you think I can satisfy their demands? Okay, Peter. Let’s do dinner on Monday of next week, if you can work it out with your friends? I’ll bring sketch pads and they should bring ideas. I can help them learn to take their own measurements, accurately. ”
He agrees, takes one of my cards, and shakes my hand with an almost religious fervor. I give him my cell phone number as an aside. We decide to set the venue on the day of the dinner, and he moves to leave.
Before Peter walks out, his cell phone rings. He checks it, mouths, “Violet”, and smiles ruefully as he exits the building. I can hear her harridan-like voice emanate from his cell. She’s loud. Really loud.
Ugh. How can a brother and sister be so different? I marvel at how he got involved in bondage and domination. I want to know little to nothing about that. And who knows, maybe she’s part of that ‘powerful crowd’ too. I always thought that women have no power at all in those situations. That’s certainly my experience. But I know so little, I decide to reserve judgment.
I don’t hear from Lucas at all, which I consider strange. He did ask to take me out tonight.
I take this as a sign that he was only joking, and carry on.
Chapter Six
“Miss Independent”
Kelly Clarkson, Breakaway
Thursday night arrives. Going to have dinner with my friends is a pleasant diversion. We’re meeting at Beauty and Essex on the lower East Side. I take the subway to East Houston, and walk the rest of the way. In addition to my wrap, I have a small bag of clothes to change into along the way. I dip into a public restroom and emerge in a black pencil skirt, black opaque tights and a turquoise angora wrap sweater. Suede peep-toe booties adorn my feet. They’re comfortable, which has become more important than image, these days. I let my hair down, feeling my scalp relax from the pull of a day-long updo. It settles around my shoulders, still curly but not wild or out of control. I brush my teeth in the sink, slick on a little lip gloss, and pronounce myself ‘as good as it gets.’
By the time I arrive at the restaurant there’s a long line. There are models waiting with super-handsome guys, and businessmen and their dates queued up for tables. The two hostesses are trying to make everyone feel important, without being overtly preferential. Everyone is dressed to the nines, and it’s barely six in the evening. Music leaks out of the doors, enticing everyone to inch forward. Because of the strict no-reservations policy, customers are milking their contacts like crazy for the chance to be seated first. I tell the hostess Emma’s last name, and the seas part for me like a biblical passage. I should have known they would.
Leave it to Emma to be connected. When we were design school roommates, the paparazzi would go through our trash and post hilarious stories (mostly untrue) about our exploits. Emma took every opportunity to create a space where her celebrity would not affect me, but she couldn’t protect me from the daily hazards of her own life – reporters, rumors, famous connections, unreasonable expectations – you name it. Emma’s dad is the lead singer of an iconic rock band. He and her mom have long since split, but her dad is still in the spotlight and it spills over, uncomfortably, to her as well. Before she met Teddy, I wondered who could possibly withstand the scrutiny of living with her, but Teddy turned out to be a perfect match. He’s a release valve for tension, and so precious.
I round the corner and see him first. Teddy’s blonde, bearded and a little chubby, and the nicest person I’ve ever known. He met Emma at a fundraiser and pursued her with a determination that defied logic. Her long legs, dark hair and black eyes captivated him. Within weeks, they announced their engagement and were planning a wedding. The Thomas clan wasn’t so sure they wanted a rock goddess in their midst. The family specializes in imported diamonds and they were honestly worried that their reputation would be tarnished with Emma’s addition. But time (and Teddy’s protestations of undying love) secured her position in the family. They’ve been married for two years now, and I’m inspired how well they’ve meshed celebrity and their own deep affection. I admire their courage.
I follow the hostess dutifully, mesmerized at the beauty of the restaurant. It’s all cozy booths and air-kissing socialites. I revel in my good fortune to be invited to such a gorgeous place. As I approach the table, I watch them together – so matched and loving. Teddy’s arm is around Emma as they sit, waiting for me. Her whole body leans toward him, in silent deference to his wishes. His face is turned toward hers. He’s looking into her eyes, asking for her opinion about something they’re discussing. Both of them nurse martinis. They don’t look up as I approach, and I’m grateful for the chance to look at them unobserved. They look happy; truly comfortable with each other. But mostly, they look attached. Without taking anything away from them, I’m reminded of my own solitude – of how lonely and bare New York can make a person feel. Can make me feel. Sure, I have work and my friends; even a good roommate. But love has eluded me, and I see it in them.
You can’t have love if you’re celibate, Sadie. Don’t you know that? Damn, sister! You’ve never even kissed a guy. I try not to listen to my inner voice. She’s so…honest. Crappy. But, honest.
The hostess draws me to the table, and I plunk myself down across from them in the curved banquette. It’s delightful to see their happy reaction. “Sadie!” Emma cries, halfway jumping out of her chair. She looks lovely in a golden sheath dress, chunky metallic jewelry and tall, spike-heeled natural colored boots. Her hair hangs to her lower back, tucked sweetly behind each ear. Her face is perfectly made-up, and it’s beaming.
“Where in the hell have you been?” Teddy exclaims, looking slightly irritable. He knows that Emma is her most calm and amenable when we’re together. We haven’t seen each other in weeks because of the aftermath of Fashion Week. That single week in September has kept me under lock and key at work; the busyness has lasted months. Look, here it is – weeks from Christmas – and I’ve been completely overwhelmed with fittings and couture meetings. I realize I’ve put Emma off at least four times, unable to break away from the pressure of orders and alterations. She chimes in immediately. “Now Teddy, you give Sadie a break. She’s been working like a mad thing. We’re together now, so let’s kick back and enjoy tonight.”
I revel in her easy generosity. Just being with my two friends puts me in the happiest of moods. We all relax, peruse the menu, and order an embarrassing number of small plates. Teddy asks the waitress to bring me a glass of Syrah. I feel the stress of long weeks slipping away, and I’m so happy to be in their company. Emma leans forward and clasps her hand around my wrist, after we’ve eaten the first course and Teddy has wandered to the bar for a moment. “Have you met anyone?” she asks expectantly, her mouth curved into a smile. “Ugh! Emma, you know I haven’t. The last thing on my mind is meeting a man. We both agreed work came first. What gives?” “Nothing”, she says softly. “I just want you to be as happy as I am with Teddy.” I relax, and try to lower my shoulders. “I know, Em. But meeting your soul mate takes time, right? I just… need time.” My mind wanders, unbidden, to Lucas Sutton. No one has come that close to kissing me in years. I haven’t let myself even consider a romantic relationship, so determined to make it here in New York that I haven’t thought of anything else. What in the hell was that all about? Is it even possible that he wasn’t making a joke at my expense?
I just don’t see how it could be. Jesus. I need to stop thinking about that, *right now*.
I watch my two gifted, self-assur
ed friends enjoy the rest of their dinner, and I’m proud and happy for how everything turned out for them. I’m out of my element, but blissful after two (or is it three?) glasses of excellent wine. Not having to worry about the tab is a luxury I’m unused to, but I’m grateful in spades.
And that’s when something in my peripheral makes me swing my head to the right. I suck in a long breath, unable to believe what I’m seeing.
The hostess approaches the table next to Teddy, Emma and me, bringing a couple to be seated. I can’t believe it. It’s Lucas Sutton, and another blonde - obviously not Violet. I’m reminded of her certainty when she introduced him; she seemed convinced he was hers. Which one of them is unclear about the seriousness of their relationship? I turn my body away from them as quickly as I can, hoping they will be too busy to look anywhere but at each other. Lucas is in mid-conversation with his date, which makes me think his interest in her is solid.
They both survey the booth and move to claim a spot. He’s wearing jeans and a grey woven shirt, and some kind of slip-on shoes. His date is willowy and gorgeous in a cream sweater dress, black leggings and stiletto heels. I move to angle my face away from them. Hopefully, since my hair is down, he can’t see that I’m nearby. I exhale, knowing he won’t see me.
Sure. The same guy who told me he wanted to take me out tonight. I didn't respond, and he’s now out with the cover of next years’ Sports Illustrated bikini issue. I realize, sickeningly, that not responding was the greatest thing I’ve ever done. I give myself a mental high-five.
He arranges himself in the banquette so that his back is to me. I can smell him from my seat; it’s some sort of cologne or body wash that smells clean and masculine. His hair glints in the low light of the restaurant, and I eye it from the side. Despite my musings, he is one lovely man. A man who never got back to me today. White flower, my ass.
I turn back to Teddy and Emma, and ignore my lovely neighbors with renewed vigor. I think about Peter’s visit, and wonder if Lucas is part of the New York underground sex scene. Geez. I need to wash my mind out with soap.
We sink back into our seats, replete. Emma is relaxed and her eyes keep going back and forth to Teddy, laughing and winking at his comments as he expounds on the diamond market. Emma shares a little about her venture, a jewelry company called Lily. While she isn’t in the diamond business; she does know a thing or two about how much women like their bling. I divulge a magazine photo shoot story that makes both of them giggle. We’re sharing, no doubt, but we try to be discreet. Somehow, we all ended up in the image business, and those reputations have to be protected.
As Teddy orders a brandy for both of them and a Bailey’s for me; our evening draws to a close. It’s been a relief to see them and to reconnect. I’m comfortable in my seat, and relaxed, when a hand comes over the banquette and softly inserts itself into my hair. Long fingers clasp, and pull gently on my curls. Of course, Lucas’ date has gone to the ladies’ room. I turn my chin toward him.
“Hello, beautiful Sadie” he says without a smile. “Fancy seeing you here?” his eyes, so serious, pierce me across the booth. “You didn’t text me back?” he whispers.
I don’t respond.
“Oh, hello Lucas!” Teddy cries. “I was so engrossed in my companions, I didn’t even see you! How are you, man?” he asks, earnestly. I can see he values Lucas Sutton, though I can’t for the life of me imagine why.
“I’m well, Teddy. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure…won’t you introduce me?” Lucas asks, with sincerity in his voice. His fingers run absently up and down my neck. They’re warm.
I don’t move.
Teddy responds immediately. “Oh! How remiss of me. Lucas Sutton, meet my wife Emma Tyler Thomas. And this is her best friend, Sadie Graves.” Everyone nods and smiles and I’m wishing I could crawl under the table. I already have this guy’s number.
Oh. Ha. Actually, he has mine.
“We came here tonight to catch up with Sadie; she works for Anna Rosenstein. It’s a pity, too – Sadie is a great designer on her own terms. Won all the design awards at school! But we’re just finishing up. Maybe we could get together sometime for cocktails – maybe have you come to our place? Is that possible?”
Lucas looks amenable.
Teddy looks at Emma and says candidly, “Lucas and I went to prep school together. He was quite a lifesaver to me as a new student. He saved my ass on so many occasions; I don’t quite know how to pay him back.” I look down, uncomfortable that Lucas still has his fingers on the nape of my neck. His hand is hidden by my hair. He tells Teddy he’d love nothing better, and they exchange cards before his date comes careening back up the aisle, obviously upset. Her white-blonde hair hangs in sheets to her shoulders and her face is so beautiful it doesn’t seem real. Something has happened while she’s been in the ladies’ room. She’s crying. Really crying; her eyes almost shut with pain. I want to look anywhere but at her. Lucas gently removes his hand from my skin and turns away.
She drops clumsily into the booth beside him. “Lucas! I thought we were exclusive!” she says, a gasp catching in her throat. She looks both hurt and shocked; like someone just told her a terrible secret. I wonder if she’s gotten an email or FaceBook message about “her” man, that he supposedly belongs to another woman.
“Gabriella, I’d rather not discuss this here.”
She glares at him, face blotchy. There’s no way she’s not scolding him.
Right. This. Second.
It’s plain on her face. The whole restaurant is now clued in that there’s about to be drama on our side of the room. It’s as if everyone leans in, and the dining room is suddenly quiet.
“All right then. Have it your way, Gabby. I’ve been nothing but honest with you. I enjoy your company, and I look forward to our time together. But, I’m away from New York too often to commit to a long term relationship. You know this. I am not settled down. I don’t enjoy this sort of public spectacle, and I’m asking you to end it now. Or, we’ll leave. You choose. But, choose now.”
“Have you really been seeing Violet Emery and me at the same time? I plainly can’t stand her, Lucas. I can’t believe you’d do that to me. I mean, I thought I meant something to you!” Gabriella sobs. Her mascara is now running down her face. Lucas summons the waiter, demands the check and hands over a black Amex card in the same breath. He insists the server come back within minutes and orders a taxi to be brought to the restaurant’s entrance. Gabriella continues to cry and hiccup loudly. She blows her nose in her linen napkin. He looks uncomfortable, angry and unused to scrutiny. When the check comes, he uses his body to push her hastily from the banquette. The other diners continue to stare.
Easing out of the booth, he’s within inches of my reddened face. I look right into his sherry colored eyes for one second, and then drop my gaze immediately, stunned by the ferocity of his expression. “What are you looking at!” he hisses at me, irritated by my eye contact.
“Not much”, I counter back, emboldened by wine. My eyes pop back over the top of the banquette to look at his and I watch transfixed as his furious look is replaced in one second by the slightest of smiles, which disappears in an instant. “Come on Gabriella; show’s over.” He drags the vision in cream to the entrance, looks back over his shoulder at me one last time, and disappears. I think: What in the hell was that about? He must be sleeping with every woman in town, as long as they’re blonde. That poor girl. She must have been crazy to get mixed up with a guy like that.
Everyone in our part of the restaurant breathes a collective sigh of relief when his rippling back retreats. One thing is sure; Lucas Sutton is…imposing when he’s pissed off. But what a face. I’ll probably be dreaming of it tonight. Just like every other woman in the place. Whew. He’s hot.
Hot enough to burn.
With the departure of our most interesting neighbors, Teddy asks for our check as well, and we head toward the exit. Emma and I stop at the ladies’ room to have a few last minutes of tog
etherness, put on lip gloss and our coats. By now, it’s bitter outside, and I have a long trek back to my Kew Gardens apartment. I can look forward to one thing; Jenny’s arrival after midnight tonight. She’s flying back into LaGuardia, weather permitting. I kiss Emma and Teddy goodbye at the curb; they’ve already hailed a cab. I’m hugging Emma when Teddy says, almost absently, “I have to take this, ladies”, and he dips into their cab to catch a phone call. I’m almost teary when I break away from Emma, but we commit to getting together on Christmas, or possibly before. She disappears into the cab, and it roars away from the restaurant. I’m alone on the sidewalk.
I straighten my shoulders and head back toward the subway station, several blocks over. I’ve gone about two blocks, past storefronts decorated with white twinkling lights, when a shiny car pulls alongside me and I hear a window electronically ease down. I’ve heard about women walking alone being approached by men late at night, and my defenses go on red alert. And that’s when his voice calls out to me. Rather commandingly.
“Look, its nineteen degrees outside. I just checked. I made a terrible first impression, and I apologize for it. I tried to correct it with flowers, but I don’t think that worked, and asking you out obviously fell flat. Sadie, please. I’d like to take you home.”
It’s been a long day, I’m tired and the man speaking to me is Lucas Sutton - he of the multiple blonde girlfriends. I can see his face clearly through the limo’s open window. He appears to be alone in the backseat.
You have got to be kidding me.
Chapter Seven
“If You Can’t Say No”
Lenny Kravitz, 5
I walk for a few feet, considering my options. Hey, I’ve had a few drinks, so maybe I’m not at my most commanding. One thing is certain; I don’t want to be in close quarters with Lucas Sutton. No way, no how. So I make the best move I can, in the circumstances.