Various States of Undress: Virginia

by Simcox, Laura

  Ten minutes later, she’d made it known to the unsurprised attorney that she wanted to dissolve Owlton, and five minutes after that, she and Stacey were riding down Seventh Avenue toward Sixteenth Street. Stacey was hunched over her phone, madly scrolling, but Virginia peered out the window, her already knotted stomach plummeting as Lilah’s came into view. At first glance, it didn’t look too bad. The elaborate sandstone building was on the west corner, flanked on one side by a pizza place and on the other by a nail salon. Okay, so the neighbors didn’t really compliment high-end shopping. Not a great sign. Then she looked up. The ten or so floors above the store were full of sagging air conditioners, and the large cursive lettering above Lilah’s doors was faded. Not a great sign, literally.

  When the SUV stopped in front and she got an even better look, she almost groaned. The awkwardly posed mannequins in the window displays were smiling ear to ear, as if somehow that would distract passersby from the fact that their ratty wigs were askew and their spring dresses were more suited to a 1980s church picnic than a stroll down Park Avenue. Even the plants flanking the double sets of brass doors looked like they’d given up. Oh, God.

  Virginia took a deep breath and turned to Stacey, whose jaw had come unhinged. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” Stacey screeched.

  “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.” Virginia didn’t even try to sound convincing because, really, it was terrible.

  Stacey shook her head. “I can’t wait to see inside. It’ll be like going to a house of horrors on Halloween.”

  “Yeah, well, you can think whatever you want, but keep your trap shut, Stace. And no selfies with ugly bags that you’ll post on your blog later, do you hear me?”

  Stacey giggled. “Fine.”

  “I’m dead serious.” Virginia glared at her, and Stacey threw up her hands.

  “Okay, okay.”

  Virginia jammed on sunglasses and hid her hair under a cute bucket hat while she waited for Muscles to scope out the store. A few minutes later, he returned and opened her door, but she hesitated. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Maybe they ought to just go have brunch.

  “Come on,” Stacey said, scrambling out to the street. She slammed the door and bounded around to tug on Virginia’s hand. “Hurry up, Ginny.”

  With a sigh, Virginia stepped onto the sidewalk, narrowly missing a wad of gum. And immediately after that, the doors of Lilah’s flew open, and Dex strolled outside. As she watched, frozen, he adjusted his tie and buttoned his suit coat. And then he inclined his head with a brilliant smile. Oh, God.

  “Good morning, ladies.”

  “Oooh. My opinion of this place might just change. Wonder who the hell that is?” Stacey whispered.

  Virginia swallowed. “Uh, that’s potentially my new boss. Rain check on the stealth shopping?”

  “That’s your boss? No way am I leaving now,” Stacey answered. She took a step forward. Virginia blocked her.

  “Yes way. Go have brunch and I’ll make it up to you.” She widened her eyes.

  Stacey rolled hers. “Fine. But I’m using the hell out of your bag until I see you again.” She held up the gorgeous white leather tote and grinned.

  “Fine,” Virginia agreed. “Get out of here.”

  With a laugh and a swing of her hair, Stacey started walking. Virginia turned toward Dex, who hadn’t moved from the store entrance. He smiled again and held out a hand. “Welcome to Lilah’s.”

  “Thanks.” She stepped forward, flanked by Muscles and Silent. “I didn’t expect you to be . . . that is, I just wanted to take a look around before we meet tomorrow.”

  “And your friend?”

  Virginia glanced down the block to make sure Stacey was still walking. “Oh, she just . . . rode with me down here. She has a manicure appointment nearby.” It wasn’t the truth, but it was a safe bet that a nail salon would be on Stacey’s list today. Just not in this neighborhood.

  “Okay. Come on in,” Dex said. “See what you think.” He held the door open for her, and she stepped into the dim interior, bracing herself as she removed her sunglasses and hat and slipped them into her tasseled bag.

  It was hard to keep a smile on her face as she looked around. The place was oppressive and awful—like a dusty tomb where fashion had gone to die. Everything was gray marble, from the high coffered ceilings held up by pillars, to the dull floor, which was covered with rows of glass-topped wooden cabinets. Stationed behind the cabinets were ladies in smocks—smocks!—and the walls behind them were lined with tall shelves of merchandise. It was like a time machine but not in a fun, fascinating way. More like a sad, pathetic way. There were a handful of shoppers perusing a display of umbrellas. Other than that, the place was deserted. She did the only thing she could do—she nodded. A lot.

  “What do you think?” Dex asked in a neutral tone.

  “Wow,” she blurted out. “Wow.”

  He chuckled. “I can respect that answer.” Glancing at the agents, he raised his hands. “Is it okay if I show her around?”

  “Sure,” Silent muttered, and he went to browse very close to the main entrance. Muscles stepped a few feet away, pretending to look at a circular rack of double-knit polyester slacks. Most of them were white and all of them had elastic waists. Virginia nearly fainted from the horror of it—Stacey had been right. This store might be hopeless.

  “Virginia?” Dex smiled at her.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t freak out on me.” He motioned to the left where Muscles was dutifully fingering the pants. “This is our ladies casual wear department. Obviously it needs attention.” His hand swept forward. “In the cases behind are accessories—belts, scarves, and things like that. Handbags are on the shelves.”

  Virginia peered at the rows of purses, arranged by color. The entire wall looked like a frumpy rainbow. “I see.”

  Dex pointed across the lobby to the left. “Ladies dresses and lingerie are over there.” He leaned down and lowered his voice. “I’m no expert, but it’s even worse. You can explore that another time.”

  “Good idea,” she said weakly. “Um, how many floors are there to this store?”

  “Two. Menswear is upstairs. Back in the day, we had four floors and carried home goods and furniture, but we don’t anymore.”

  “Good idea,” she said again, then winced. “Sorry, I . . . well. Lilah’s needs some TLC.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” he agreed. “Don’t worry, Virginia. I’m on your side, and I’m well aware the store needs a lot of help. It’s barely been changed since it opened in 1948.”

  There was a loud sniffing sound from behind a rack of blouses, and Dex grit his teeth—kind of like he had last night while he’d been dancing. “Shit,” he muttered. And then—“Brace yourself.” She’d already been doing that. What now?

  “Ruston,” Dex said in a hearty voice, “come meet my associate.”

  The blouses rustled and a short, thin man in a three-piece suit slid silently into place next to Dex. He wore round, black-rimmed glasses and a sneer. When he raised a hand to adjust his pocket square, Virginia spotted a pinky ring. He hadn’t looked at her yet, and she waited. It usually took people a few minutes to adjust once they recognized her. She didn’t mind being stared at, but right now, the only person doing the staring was Dex. She shifted under his gaze.

  To her surprise, when Ruston finally deigned to look over, he didn’t wear the usual expression of shock—quickly followed by an attempt to hide it. He merely turned his head slowly and trained his gaze on her hair. When he’d stared at that for a moment, his gaze drifted over her face, then her Givenchy tee, then her pink jeans, and finally at her espadrilles. He pointed at them, his finger making a sharp circling motion. “Lanvin?”

  “Fendi,” she corrected, hiding a smile. “Hi there. I’m Virginia Fulton. Great to meet you . . . Ruston?” She glanced at Dex, whose gaze was fixed on her lips.

  Dex coughed. “Sorry, how rude of me. Virginia, meet Ruston Rousseau. He’s the m
anager of Lilah’s. Ruston, Virginia is considering working as a consultant for us.”

  Ruston’s eyebrows went up a millimeter. “Lovely. Please do let me know how I can help. I’ve been here for—what is it, Mr. Cameron? Let me think . . . twenty years?”

  “Thirty,” Dex said. “As you’ve reminded me often.”

  “Ah, yes. Since before you were born. My, my.” Ruston gave them both a brittle smile, his eyes darting between them. “If you’ll excuse me, I must see about some stock. Our summer skirts have just come in.”

  “Of course,” Virginia murmured. Oh boy. This was looking worse and worse. Why the hell had she already called that lawyer to begin dissolving Owlton? Lilah’s needed a lot more than her fashion sense. It needed a team of people to completely take over and transform it. She wanted to do it, but major uphill battles weren’t her cup of tea. She couldn’t do it, and she had to tell Dex. The thought of doing that, though, brought an instant sense of disappointment, and her stomach clenched.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Ruston said quickly and weaved his way back through the blouses before heading toward the back of the store.

  “Come with me,” Dex murmured, his warm breath tickling her ear. She glanced up at him, ready to shake her head, but there was something in his eyes—something raw and intense—so she just nodded. She’d rather let him down in private. “Where are we going?”

  “To see what could be your office,” he answered and led her toward the middle of the store, where an antique elevator stood between two large pillars. A chubby old man wearing a New York Mets baseball cap and a blazer with “Lilah’s” embroidered on the front stood up from the folding chair where he’d been sitting. “Going up, buddy?” He glanced at Virginia and his eyes became saucerlike.

  “Yes, thanks. I see that you recognize Virginia,” Dex said.

  “Jeez Louise,” the man muttered. “You could have warned me.”

  “It’s more fun this way. Eddie, this is Virginia Fulton. Virginia, this is Eddie Trotter. He’s been our elevator man for about fifty years.”

  “Fifty-two,” Eddie said as he hitched up his pants before pushing open the accordion gate. “And I’ve been here long enough to decide what privileges I have. One of them is that I don’t stand on ceremony. I believe in being friendly to every damn body, no matter who they are. So nice to meet ya, Virginia. Hop in.”

  She grinned at him and stepped into the small car, which featured 1970s wood paneling. “Likewise. I think I like you.”

  “Most people do.” He winked at her; slammed the gate behind Dex and Silent, who was obligated to come with; and punched a button. The elevator lifted off with a shudder and didn’t stop—shuddering, that is—until it reached the tenth floor. While it went up, Eddie talked nonstop about the Mets, the Knicks, the weather, and then the Mets again. Dex didn’t say anything. He stood behind Virginia so close that his chest brushed against her back as the elevator rattled upward. There was just enough space for her to take a small step forward, but she didn’t, and when the door clattered open, she felt his hand brush hers and then clasp it. She glanced up at him in surprise, knowing her face was hot, but he squeezed her fingers and gently pushed her forward.

  “Thanks, Eddie.” Virginia smiled over her shoulder and followed Dex into a narrow hallway lined with mostly empty bulletin boards. She untangled her fingers from his and cleared her throat.

  He smiled at her and then pointed Silent toward a door at the end of the hallway. “If it’s okay, could you check out the offices so that Virginia and I can have a private meeting?” Silent nodded and marched down the hall. “Thanks, man,” Dex called after him, and then he turned to Virginia. “There are apartments sandwiched between Lilah’s and our offices. They have a separate entrance and elevator, so this elevator shoots straight from the first or second floor to the tenth. Hope the ride wasn’t too . . . unsettling.” His voice was pleasant, but there was a thread of tension there too. Sexual tension?

  “Unsettling?” If he only knew. No doubt she had lust written all over her face—and very soon, she’d be truly alone with him for the very first time. And probably the last time, since she intended to turn down the job. He’d know what she was thinking if she continued to stare at him, so she looked out the small window next to the elevator instead. He didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, and as the silence stretched, she got more and more self-conscious. Finally she cleared her throat. “Great view.”

  Dex stood close behind her. “Yes, it is. But I’m about to show you a better one.”

  Before she had a chance to respond to that cryptic comment, the door flew open and Silent strode quickly toward them. “All clear. I’ll wait by the elevator.”

  “Thanks,” she said, just a bit breathless, as she trailed after Dex. She followed him into another, narrower hallway, which was lined on one side by a row of old-fashioned doors inset with patterned glass. There was none of the noise expected in offices and she glanced up at him.

  “Where is everyone?”

  Dex smiled. “It’s Sunday.”

  “Oh yeah.” She let out an awkward laugh.

  “But that wouldn’t matter because these offices are empty. Lilah’s is . . . it’s not what it used to be. There are only three offices in use: mine, which I moved into this morning; my grandfather’s, which actually hasn’t been used in ten years”—he stopped at the door at the far end and gestured—“and yours, if you’ll have it. I can have someone come and put your name on the door tomorrow.”

  She stared at the frosted glass door in dismay. Her name there would look great—very official—something to be proud of for once, and just thinking about it made it that much harder to tell him she’d changed her mind. The job of fixing Lilah’s was way too big for her.

  Dex reached for the brass doorknob and opened the door. “Take a look,” he murmured.

  When she stepped inside, her jaw dropped almost immediately. There were windows on two sides, floor to ceiling, and the view was spectacular. The floor was covered in soft carpeting, and a huge desk sat diagonally, right in front of the view. “Holy crap. This is amazing.”

  “I thought you might like it,” he said. “I came over this morning to see what kind of shape it was in. I didn’t expect you until tomorrow, so there’s nothing but the desk. So far.”

  She shook her head and walked over to the windows, letting her bag slide to the floor. “Dex, I appreciate it, but I have to let you know that I’ve made my decision. Unfortunately, I don’t see how I can do this—”

  “I do,” he interrupted, perching on the edge of the desk. “You’re smart. I’ve told you that before.” His gaze zeroed in on her lips again for a second, and then he folded his arms. “You can do it. The salary will be competitive. I’ll take care of advertising and dealing with corporate—all I’m asking is for you to revamp the products and the look of the store.”

  “Oh, that’s all?” She raised her eyebrows. “Piece of cake. If the cake was the size of a balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, that is.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “Easy.”

  All thoughts of letting him down gently flew away as she looked at his stubborn, arrogant expression. She threw her hands in the air and walked over to face him. “Come on, Dex! Be realistic. You need a team to fix this store. An army.”

  “So hire one.” He leaned toward her. “I need you. And you need me.”

  “I don’t need you.” She narrowed her eyes. There was no way she was going to tell him about dumping Owlton. Not right now, anyway.

  Dex slid off the desk and covered the few feet between them, frowning. “Yes, you do,” he said.

  She stared at his mouth, her legs suddenly feeling wobbly. “No, I don’t.” She raised her hands to his shoulders to steady herself.

  “You can choose to keep telling yourself that, or you can make a move.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Move forward.”

  She took a deep breath. “I d
on’t know if I can.” The words came out raspy, and the look of irritation in Dex’s eyes changed into something much more focused. He hesitated for a moment and then leaned closer. “Make a leap of faith, trust your instincts, and take the job. You’ll have my full support.”

  As she gazed up into his steady eyes, she was all too aware of her fear. Because of cowardice, she never acted as if she expected anyone to take her seriously—and so they didn’t. It pissed her off. She didn’t like being pissed, especially not at herself. Dex took her seriously, didn’t he? She closed her eyes. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  When she opened them, he smiled. “Great. Now . . . about moving forward?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Literally moving forward would be fantastic. I never got to kiss you back, you know.”

  “I . . . didn’t expect you to,” she said.

  “That might be, but the more I thought about your kiss last night, the more necessary kissing you back became to me. And now? I can’t think about much else.”

  She gripped his shoulders and gazed into his eyes. “To be honest, neither can I.”

  “Please tell me we can try again. Kiss me and see what happens.” His voice was low and thick.

  Virginia’s legs almost gave out from under her, and a shuddering breath left her body. She should be taking a step back, not contemplating kissing him again. Her body swayed forward, and she tightened her grip on his shoulders to steady herself. Just as she closed her eyes to think, his mouth descended, hot and sweet, angling over hers and stopping a hairsbreadth from her lips.

  “Mmm,” he uttered, the sound coming from deep in his throat, and it was all she needed.

  She pushed up onto her toes, her fingers laced behind his neck, and she kissed him. He tasted earthy—wild, almost—and that surprising discovery sent a shock wave through her brain. She kissed him again. “More,” she murmured, even though she knew she shouldn’t. His tongue invaded her mouth; he turned and, in one motion, lifted her onto the desk. Electricity sang through her body, and, as she twined her tongue with his, the idea of shouldn’t started to become hazy. Her hands threaded through his cropped hair and she leaned back—arching her breasts toward him—wanting Dex to press her down with his body. Please, she whispered in her mind, Please, Dex.