Chapter 15 – Morgan
15
DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS
MORGAN
My stomach churned on the way back to the loft.
Everything that had seemed like such a good idea when I was drunk with Amber suddenly seemed like a very, very bad idea.
I hesitated as I walked up to the door. All around me, pedestrians in SoHo chatted happily as they rushed off to their destinations.
Not me. I walked slowly because I knew what was waiting.
Maybe I'd been a little hasty with the milk trick.
To be fair, I’d been severely off balance after the stairwell, tipsy, and not thinking clearly. Maybe being impetuous wasn't exactly the best move.
Okay, fair.
I needed to grab a quick shower, change, and then head down to the co-op. I’d had a couple of design ideas while I was at work, and I wanted to include them in my portfolio for my project.
Right in front of the building, my phone buzzed, and I groaned. All I wanted was a hot shower, and then I'd get back to work. This burning the candle at both ends thing was not quite what I had in mind, but it would be worth it. I could have been that girl who threw my sister's money around and begged my billionaire brother-in-law for money to fund my own line. Instead, I wanted it to be sustainable. Not just in materials or work, but a business that was actually mine that I ran.
"Hello, this is Morgan," I answered.
"Morgan, it's Miriam.”
"Oh, hey. I was just about to grab a shower and then I was going to head down there. It's still cool for me to come in at night, right?"
"Yeah, it is. Actually, I'm calling you with some news."
My heart tripped over itself, stopping momentarily and then startling back awake at a full gallop. "Oh, okay…"
"It's good, relax. Remember how I said from time to time we have not only designing partners but business partners that come in to mentor young students?"
"Yes."
"Well, one of our business partners saw your portfolio from last year and what you plan to do for sustainable fashion. They're excited about you and your work and want to supply you with a mentor for the business side."
"Holy shit." And then I realized that I probably shouldn't be swearing to the woman who was giving me a chance when, honestly, I had essentially begged her for an opportunity. "I mean... I don't even know what to say."
"Say nothing. Just come in tonight, and your mentor will be here around 7:00. It's nothing major. Just the basics of a business plan, who you'll go to for investment, how you return that investment, how much of yourself to give away."
"Oh my God, this is what I need." I checked my watch and saw it was 5:30. Oh God, I needed to actually look good then. "I won't let you down, Miriam. I'm really, really grateful."
"Well, I'm glad to hear it. I'll see you tonight."
"Yeah, I'll see you then."
Holy fuck.
I yanked open the heavy glass door, greeting the doorman with a big wave. He gave me one back in return.
"You look like you've had good news," he said.
"The best news."
The rest of his gaze was slightly flirty, but I didn't have time for that. I needed to shower, get dressed, do my makeup, grab my plans, and make it back to the Village by seven o’clock.
I jogged up the stairs to Lance's loft and used the key he'd given me to let myself in. I saw his keys in the bowl by the door where he always tossed them, so I knew he was home.
"Hey, Lance," I called out. "Don't have time to chat. I've got to shower and get out of here."
"Sure." His voice came from the office. It was like a low hum. He must have been on the phone.
Upstairs, I grabbed my dark slacks and my asymmetrical shirt I'd sewn myself using reconstituted thread. If I was going to meet with some kind of business manager, I should show them that my clothes were wearable in the wild.
I jumped in the shower, yanking off my workout clothes. My braids wouldn’t dry in time, so I’d have to use some braid spray.
I ran my head under the lukewarm water, frowning that it hadn't warmed up yet, but I didn't have time to wait. Then suddenly, the water went ice-bucket cold.
I screeched, "Oh my God!"
Somewhere downstairs, Lance called up, "Everything okay?"
I turned off the water. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
I glanced at the clock on the far wall of the bathroom and frowned. Fuck, I did not have time for this.
Gingerly, I turned the water back on and leaned my head inside, my teeth chattering as I rinsed out the conditioner.
"Fuck."
I tried turning the knob backward and forward again, but nothing happened.
Oh God, why, why, why now?
I didn't really have a choice. I grabbed my shower gel, stepped out of the stream, and lathered quickly. And then it was the moment of truth.
I jumped back in.
I screeched and hollered as the shards of water bit into my skin as I skipped and hopped from foot to foot, practically crying.
It was the fastest rinse-off I'd ever had in my life.
Shit .
Wrapping myself in a towel, I padded out of the bathroom, teeth still chattering as I jogged down the stairs.
I found Lance in his office, leaning back in his chair, feet up on the desk, lifting a brow as his gaze swept over me. "What's up, Morgan?" he asked.
"The hot water. It, um, it stopped working. Maybe it's the boiler?"
He grinned. "Oh no. It's not the boiler. I took a forty-five-minute shower just before you came home. I knew you'd be coming back from the gym, and I wanted to make sure the water was nice and cold for you."
I blinked at him. "What? You did that on purpose?"
"I already told you, Morgan. Don't play with me. You won't like it. And you won't win."
"You... you..." I stuttered, my teeth still chattering as I glared at him. "You asshole ."
"No. Not an asshole. Just making it perfectly clear that this is a war of attrition. One you will not win."
"You are a dead man. I don't have time to argue with you tonight. I have to go. Fuck you, Lance."
"You already have. Remember? And it was the ride of your life."
When he chuckled, I barely resisted the urge to slap him. If he wanted to play, we could most definitely play.
I leaned my head over and secured my braids like a bun—and then I dropped the towel I’d wrapped around myself.
He stopped laughing immediately.
I returned his sardonic smile and walked out, headed straight for the stairs and a blow dryer.
He was right.
This. Was. War.
An hour later, I was mid presentation trying to stay focused.
"As you can see from my projections, if we continue to use sustainable wood pulp as our main source for our threads and naturally occurring dyes, while it is marginally more expensive, the quality will speak for itself in addition to the designs."
I paused and looked everyone in the eyes. I was nervous. I was going to kill Lance later.
Miriam smiled broadly as she nodded. There were two other people at the co-op as well. Carl was this German and Kenyan kid doing fashion jewelry design. Alicia was trying to do an affordable hemp line, but she was very much giving Park Avenue Princess vibes.
And then there were two investors and mentors: Cora Bradley, who took copious notes, and Hector DuLac. I'd never heard of him before, but according to Miriam, he worked with some hedge fund looking to diversify portfolios with funds for smaller, up-and-coming brands. I was still up-and-coming. I didn't even have a brand, but I would take any business knowledge I could.
DuLac sat forward. When he spoke, there was something about his cadence that was familiar. His face was, too. Like an echo of a dream. He was handsome—a fact Alicia, Cora, and Miriam had noticed. I could have sworn I saw Carl sliding a glance his way, too. But there was something about him that left me cold. A brutality about him that was off-putting.
"Miss Becker, is it?"
"Crispin-Becker. But yes."
"I mean, the idea is fine if fashion is the way you want to go," he said dismissively.
"It is. Last I checked, we all need new clothing."
He lifted a brow as if expecting me not to push back. And honestly, I shouldn't have because beggars can't be choosers, and I was a beggar.
"You're going to need a business plan to make sure your margins are working. And then you're going to need a distribution plan, and?—"
I gave him a tight smile and slid the folder of my prospectus and business plan over to him. "I'm sorry you missed it when you arrived late. I gave one to Miriam and Cora. This one is for you."
He opened his mouth but then shut it abruptly. He was ready to shoot me down. I guess I wouldn't be getting his mentorship.
Cora asked questions about my business plan, timeline, and when I could get a sample line together.
Things I hadn't thought about. A month ago, I could have had a sample line in a week. But after my father burned my things, it would take three months. I did everything myself, but I could call artisans I'd befriended at NYU. But they would expect payment, which was the problem.
"Right now, three months. I have a few sample pieces, but unforeseen circumstances mean my line isn't fully ready. But I have, as you see in the folder, all the designs ready to go; they just need to be produced."
She nodded as if the timeline made perfect sense.
Holy fuck. Holy fuck.
Hector sat forward. "Ms. Crispin-Becker, you seem to have things in order. Why are you looking for a partner?"
I lifted a brow. "Well, actually, I'm not looking for a partner. I'm looking for a mentor. I don't want to be a flash in the pan. If I wanted that, I would have attached myself to some brand already. I want this to be my line. No one else's. The market for what I'm trying to do is wide open, and I'd like to put my mark on it. I don't want a partner who insists on cutting costs or using their designs. I need a mentor who can guide me and help me make the right decisions."
Again, he lifted a brow and pursed his lips.
Way to go. You are pissing him off.
Well, he needed to be pissed off because he was annoying.
Miriam narrowed her gaze as if trying to give me a silent warning. But what was I supposed to do? He was condescending and arrogant. And God, he was familiar. He hadn't said anything hostile. It had been his tone and approach when asking questions.
After Carl and Alicia had also presented, we were standing around for small talk when Hector tapped my shoulder and asked to speak to me. I forced a tight smile. If he was talking to me, I would glean whatever advice I could and keep moving. Even if he told me my ideas were dumb and I had no money, no prospects, and no future.
Shut up and start thinking positively.
Right. "Yes, do you have any more questions I can answer, Mr. DuLac?"
He smirked. "I will say you held your own."
I frowned. "I beg your pardon?"
"You hold your own. You don't get flustered. You answered the questions clearly and concisely. You are knowledgeable and unflappable, which is a key factor in business. I'm sorry I seemed hard on you. I was trying to test your mettle because you will have people who are far more arrogant and self-important than I was right now. I wanted to see if you had a backbone."
Some tension left my shoulders. I didn't like being tested. "So that was a big test?"
"Yes, but then again, isn't everything?"
He has a point there.
I studied his face again. I still couldn't place it. He must have noticed because he asked, "Something wrong?"
"No, it's just... You seem familiar. Like I should know you."
He shook his head, a slow smile spreading across his handsome face, and I was jolted. That smile reminded me of someone.
I ignored the mild flirtation. "I know what I'm looking to do. I just need some help in getting there."
"And if you're willing, I'd like to help you get there." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a card. "Think about it. I have your information, and I'll reach out to you tomorrow. I'll take a look at your business plan tonight and see where there are holes and areas for improvement and send you some notes. Free of charge."
"So you're not trying to be my partner?"
He shook his head. "No. I do have investors that would be great opportunities for you. People I can help you meet, but I would not make an ideal partner for you."
"No, I don't think you would."
He grinned then, and another wave of familiarity hit me.
"You're sure we've never met before?" I asked.
He laughed. "Maybe you'll think of where after you sleep on it for a night."
I tapped his card against my fingertips. "Maybe. You've certainly given me food for thought. I look forward to seeing your notes on my business plan."
With a smile, he turned and walked away, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge.