Chapter 20
Romeo
“Well, don’t you just look perfect?” I coo at one of my models.
We’re in what passes as the dressing room at the Redwood Bay Bridal Show, which is just a smaller meeting room off to the side of the main conference hall of the hotel.
This is the venue where all the local schools have their proms and graduation ceremonies, so most folks around town know it and have a sort of fond regard for the space despite its blandness.
But I like to see all these magnolia walls and beige floors as a blank canvas to work with.
Ever since I started working for the boutique, we’ve done this exhibition.
It actually draws a decent crowd not only from our town but the nearby ones as well.
This is the first year I’ve been in charge of our runway presentation, though, and I am one thousand percent fake-smiling my way through all the nerves.
I keep trying to remind myself that no matter what happens, it’s just dresses.
No one’s life is in danger. That’s easier when I also remind myself that Julian is on shift right this moment, and he really could be dealing with life-or-death scenarios.
It’s harder to keep in mind when the model in front of me anxiously looks around at some of the smaller girls, clearly having a real moment of doubt.
Not to mention the fact that I’ve still got flower girls running around without any shoes on and hair that looks like they’ve been electrocuted, and we were supposed to hit the catwalk ten minutes ago.
Just keep smiling, I tell myself firmly. I also make a promise to future me that the second this is over, we can run to the bar for a particularly large vodka and pink lemonade.
Deciding to fix the most immediate problem in front of me, I take the model’s hands and squeeze them in my one. “Don’t be nervous,” I tell her. “You’re going to be amazing.”
The young woman, Alice, nibbles her lower lip. “What if everyone laughs at me? I don’t look like the others.”
As she swallows, her Adam’s apple bobs. And yes, if you want to be a meanie about it, I guess I can tell that this queen has not been taking her titty skittles all that long and is still battling with things like a little unwanted facial hair.
But you know what? My make-up skills are legendary and right now her beat is flawless.
I dare anyone to make this girl feel unwanted in this space.
“Honey,” I say, whipping the sass out and clicking my fingers a few times through the air. “Nobody looks like anyone else here. That’s why I picked you all. Because you’re unique and because you absolutely slayed your auditions, okay? Let me see that walk you gave me.”
Her eyes go wide. “Right now?”
“Hell yeah, baby doll! You got this! I want you to give me that stomp. And don’t be worrying over what anyone else is doing. They’re them and they’re fabulous in their own way. I want to see your way, okay? Show me what you got.”
I make a spectacle of scuttling backward to give her some room, then nod my head encouragingly.
For a moment she rubs her chest and glances across the room, as if expecting a gaggle of mean girls to be laughing at her.
But the models who’ve noticed what she’s doing just give her thumbs up and tell her she’s got this, and I see as something heavy lifts slightly off her shoulders.
Taking a deep breath, she straightens her spine and takes a first step in her heels.
She wobbles slightly and I inhale quietly.
But then she balls up her fists, looks me dead in the eye, and launches into a genuinely awesome walk.
Her narrow hips sashay as she reaches me, winks, then storms all the way back to where she started.
“There you go!” I cry, clapping my hands as the other women and little girls cheer and applaud along with me. “Slay the house down, boots! You got this, queen!”
Alice covers her mouth as she laughs, and a couple of the other models move to rub her back and squeeze her shoulder. I’m so proud, I could explode.
But we are now running fifteen minutes late.
“Okay,” I cry, clapping a couple of times to get everyone’s attention. “I say it’s time we got this show on the road! Who’s with me?” That gets another round of applause and a couple of my colleagues mercifully start herding the models toward the curtained off area of the conference hall.
“You’re doing a great job, darling.”
I whirl around to find my boss, Hedi, lurking behind me.
On the one hand, she’s easy to miss because she’s barely five foot tall and I’m a beanpole in three-inch heels.
On the other hand, with her enormous square glasses, massive frizzy hair, and the dozens of bangles around her wrists, I’m not sure how I ever miss her.
But I guess my attention was focused elsewhere just now.
“Oh, um, thank you,” I say, resisting the urge to check my watch and see how late we’re running now. But if my boss doesn’t mind…maybe I don’t have to, either?
As if reading my mind, she chuckles and pulls out an honest to god pocket watch.
“Only seventeen minutes behind schedule,” she says approvingly, putting it away again.
“I think that’s a new record. One time we were on two hours and twenty-three minutes later than we should have been.
” She shudders. “Those damn beagles. Never again.”
I blink a couple of times, then figure it’s probably my turn to speak. “Wow, really? I never noticed before. I just didn’t want to let you down. What about the flower girls?”
“I’ve got Sofia taming their curls as we speak,” she assures me. “Relax. The hard part is over now.”
She places her hand on my back and gently steers me from the room so we can head out to the main room and watch the presentation from the side of the stage.
It’s hardly Paris fashion week, I know. But I can’t help but feel proud as I see my gal rolling her chair down the runway looking like a movie star.
“Thank you for trusting me with this, Hedi,” I say earnestly, then laugh as she hands me the pink drink she apparently had waiting for me. We sit at the little round table and watch as the next model takes her turn. “It’s meant a lot.”
She herself sips on a gin and tonic and regards me for a moment. “You’re going places, Romeo,” she says, like it’s a matter of fact. “You’re not meant to be a floor assistant forever.”
Guilt flares inside me. I’ve been so preoccupied by moving onto something bigger and better, I suddenly worry I’ve taken for granted how supportive Hedi and the rest of the team have been to me.
“Oh, but I enjoy helping people find their dream dresses,” I insist, taking a sip of vodka and pink lemonade to distract myself.
But she smiles knowingly. “Of course you do. But you enjoyed putting together this show more. Not to mention the endless hours you put into your sister’s wedding.
” I splutter into my drink. She wasn’t supposed to know about that, but she just laughs quietly so as not to disturb the models who are getting applauded.
Then she leans closer so she can whisper into my ear.
“I know everything, Quincy. I also know you’ve met someone. ”
When she sits back in her seat and studies me, I know I’m not hiding the flurry of emotions racing through me right now. “Oh, um, well…”
She gives my knee a squeeze. “I’m happy for you, darling. It made me sad we never saw you dating. He must be very special.”
My cheeks glow. She has no idea, but she’s right.
This last week living with Julian has been incredible.
Well, I say living. My stuff is still all in the annex apartment.
It felt important to keep that distinction and not go completely mad within days of meeting each other.
But I see him almost every day. I stay in my bed when he’s on shift, but the two nights in between we’ve been spending together.
We even made time to scuttle down to the clinic and get ourselves tested for any unwanted nasties, so the epic sex has gotten even epic-er.
He’s everything I could want and more. But that still scares the hell out of me. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. So I didn’t dare breathe a word to any of my colleagues, yet Hedi figured it how anyway.
“How did you know?” I ask.
She snorts and salutes me with her gin. “Because you’re walking around like a man in love who’s getting fucked good and regularly. I’m happy for you, darling.”
I think I do very well not to spray vodka and pink lemonade all over the table. Instead, I swallow my drink and only cough a few times before managing to regain my composure. “Um, right. Thanks.”
“So?” she raises her eyebrows. “Are you telling me you haven’t thought at all about doing something more than being a glamorous shop assistant? Don’t get me wrong, you’re one of my best. But life’s short. You should spread your wings.”
I’m mostly confident I’ve cleared my throat and won’t choke on my words, but I’m still nervous. This feels like a trap. But…has Hedi ever tricked me or fucked me over in all the years she’s known me? I don’t think so.
Besides, getting all this non-stop praise from Julian is rubbing off on me (and I don’t just mean literally.) From some unknown depths, a surge of bravery arrives, and I figure what’s the worst that could happen? She could laugh at my dream. She could fire me.
But I’d still have Julian to go home to.
“I thought about, well…” I take a long drag on my drink for a little extra liquid courage. “I thought about starting my own wedding planning business.”
“About damn time,” Hedi says without missing a beat, glaring at me through her thick lenses. “I was worried I’d have to fire you to light up your ass.”
I get whiplash from what I’ve just heard. It sounded like she was encouraging me to set up my own business. But… “Are you firing me?” I ask uncertainly.
She shrugs. “I can if you want. But I thought you’d probably prefer to keep your paycheck while you get on your feet.
If you want me to set up meetings with any of the other bigwigs in the biz around here, that could be fun.
Ooh, I could host a dinner party. I haven’t had a chance to use my fondu set since that unfortunate incident with the edible blue glitter. ”
She wrinkles her nose, clearly still mildly disturbed by whatever unfortunate cheese incident she’s talking about. I’m more hooked on how easily she’s embraced this idea of me moving on and outgrowing the company she’s poured her heart and soul into.
“Why would you do that for me?” I blurt out, slightly inelegantly and definitely too loudly considering we were unfortunately between two music tracks. But nobody seems to pay me much attention. Unlike Hedi, who is somehow giving me even more of her focus than before.
“Because I despise wasted talent,” she says coolly. “I absolutely cannot stand when someone is so afraid to fail that they clip their own wings before they even try to fly. That’s not you, is it, Quincy?”
I pause, tempted to tell her how I’ve had plenty of people clip my wings for me.
But how long am I going to let them do that?
They’re not here anymore. They—by which, I mean my good-for-nothing parents—have no power over me.
I am my own person. No doubt, my apartment getting so badly damaged and possibly condemned was a blow.
But I’m still here, right? I’m still fighting.
And not just because Julian took pity on me.
Because he liked me enough to want to help me.
We’re building something real together, and my mom and dad have nothing to do with that.
This pause is definitely stretching out, but Hedi doesn’t seem to mind, so I take another gulp of my drink and let the faint buzz of alcohol carry my thought train to its station.
My parents weren’t good for nothing.
The realization hits me hard and I really don’t like it, but almost immediately something heavy lifts inside me.
Because they weren’t.
My mom loved to sing, and she taught me about harmonies. She played me CDs of her favorite seventies and eighties girl groups, and whether she likes it or not, my adoration of feather boas comes from her.
My dad was extremely proud and never left the house looking anything less than immaculate. Uh, hello? I definitely inherited that gene.
The fond memories that surface in this moment don’t excuse any of the terrible things they’ve done.
But right there, in that hotel conference room, as I watch the models I handpicked take a bow in the wedding dresses I selected from the range the woman beside me curated, I get a lightning strike of purpose.
I cannot spend the rest of my life letting my parents’ rejection define me. I am so much more than that.
Finishing my vodka and pink lemonade with a flourish, I set the glass down perfectly in the center of its coaster and turn to Hedi. I’m so focused, I only vaguely register a series of phone beeps that flurry all around me. They don’t seem as important right now.
“No, I’m not afraid to fly,” I tell her proudly.
“Your blessing means the world to me, it really does. But I was going to do this anyway. I’m going to set up my own wedding planning business, and I’d love your help connecting with other companies so I can offer the best service I can to my new clients.
But I already know…” I take a deep breath as the house lights come up from the fashion show and a cacophony of voices urgently fill the air around us. “I’m going to be damn awesome at it.”
Then, like an act of god smiting me for my pride, that’s when the wall next to us explodes, fire rips through the air, and the ceiling comes down right over our heads.