Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GRIFF
Before getting out of my car, I grab my phone and look one more time at the message I sent Phil this morning. I don’t know what possessed me—except I do. I didn’t want him to feel any pressure about today’s meeting.
JSYK, it’s okay if you can’t talk today. Daria’s cool.
He liked the message, which is the most uninformative, ambiguous way to reply. Is it supposed to be just an acknowledgement? Is he saying he appreciates the heads-up? Is he mad? There’s no way to know.
I have to walk into the meeting essentially blind to what my reception will be, which annoys the fuck out of me, because I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk to him face-to-face, just him and me. Find out whether the interest I feel is reciprocated or if he just wants to be friends.
Whatever. Nothing’s going to happen if I don’t get out of the car.
I’m nearly at the building when a sharp whistle rends the air. “Hey, Griff!”
I turn and see Daria, who’s one of my favorite clients, sauntering toward me, her asymmetrical haircut and wildly curly hair standing out from the crowd.
Her hands are in the pockets of her ripped-up jeans.
She’s wearing them with a tank top that definitely wasn’t approved by me, but honestly, I’m just relieved she’s not wearing her ratty sweatpants with the word “Fuck” written in Sharpie all over them, courtesy of the rest of the band.
They’re kind of epic, but not what I want one of my clients seen wearing.
I stop and wait for her to catch up, my gaze drifting to her companions. Patton, who the band hired to be their shared assistant-driver-bodyguard, and Dorian.
“I’m a little hurt that you want Dorian’s opinion when I’ll be here,” I joke, and Dorian lets out a theatrical groan.
“I had to get out, Griff. You’ve got to save me from them.”
I glance at Patton, who rolls his eyes. “Mitch’s teenage sisters are visiting.”
Ah. “Well, nobody’s going to squeal and look at you adoringly here.” I hope.
The first test comes when we get up to reception. Kyle’s warm smile slips for a second, his eyes widening, but in the next beat, it’s firmly back in place. “Welcome back to Phallacy, Griff.”
“Cool line,” Dorian mutters, pulling out his phone and making a note. He does that a lot.
“Thanks, Kyle.” I smile gratefully at him for not fanboying even though I can tell from the way his gaze slides to the twins that he wants to. “Is it okay that Dorian tagged along for Daria’s appointment?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll let Calla know you’re here. Do you mind signing everyone in?” He looks at Patton. “Including security.”
“I’ll wait out here, if that’s okay,” Patton suggests. “Unless someone in there is a rabid fan and crowd control is needed?”
“Crowd control while I’m in my underwear? That sounds fun.” Daria grins at Kyle. “Please say Patton can wait with you so I can complain about him?”
“You complain about me even when I’m with you,” Patton says placidly.
“He can wait here,” Kyle offers, chuckling. “Could I get anyone a drink? Coffee, tea, soda?”
I hold in my sigh and wait.
“I’ll have a latte, extra, extra hot. Chill the cup first, though. And I’ll have extra foam, stop the shot at fifteen seconds, and two pumps each of caramel and vanilla syrup,” Dorian says. “Please.”
Kyle doesn’t bat an eye. “Of course. Anyone else?”
“I’ll have a regular latte like a normal person, thanks,” Daria says, shaking her head at her brother.
Patton and I both ask for sodas, and just as Kyle’s turning away to get everything, the doors open and Calla comes out.
“Griff!” She holds out her hands, and I’m gratified to discover that I’m now worthy of air-kisses. “We’re going to make you a regular here if it’s the last thing I do.”
I snort. “I feel like I’m being seduced to the dark side.” Stepping back, I gesture to Daria. “Daria Keys, meet Calla Gardner, one half of the brains behind Phallacy.”
Daria’s eyes are on Calla’s torso. “Hi. Not to be pushy, but did you design that top? Can we look at something like that today too?”
I mentally pat myself on the back while Calla laughs… and flips her hair. Do I sense a fan?
“That’s the design you’ve come here for,” I tell Daria. “It’s a one-off that Phil and Calla have agreed to replicate for you.”
“You’re amazing,” she tells Calla. “I love you. Want me to have your babies?”
Calla’s cheeks pinken. “Why don’t we wait until you’ve tried it on before we write up the surrogacy contract?” she suggests. Her gaze flicks past Daria to Dorian, and I step in to introduce them.
“Dorian’s come along because he’s nosy,” I explain. It’s simpler than “he wanted to get away from his adoring underage fans.” “He promises not to cause trouble.”
Dorian holds up his hand like he’s taking an oath. “I swear. Especially if you can stop Daria from bitching about her clothes.”
“We got this,” Calla assures him. “Before we go through, I just want to talk to you about Phil.”
“Griff already told me,” Daria says. “And I wouldn’t let Dorian come until he agreed not to be an ass.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that, and I know Phil will too.” She shoots me a grateful smile, and I nod. I’m not sure if Phil told her we’ve been talking, but I’ve got his back.
We walk through the doors into the showroom, where, aside from a few interested glances our way, everyone is busy at work.
Calla directs us to the fitting room, and as we step inside, I finally see Phil.
He’s speaking to an older woman in a low voice but turns as we enter, a smile lighting his face.
The blush that stains his cheeks is probably a reaction to having Daria and Dorian here, but I love the way it almost matches his hair.
We’ve talked and texted a lot since the last time I was here, but I hadn’t realized how much I wanted to see him again.
He walks toward us, still smiling, and Calla says, “This is Phil Marchand, our resident design genius. Phil, Daria and Dorian Keys.”
Phil offers his hand to Daria. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” he greets her in that warm voice that makes me want to smile. I exhale slowly, happy and relieved that he’s comfortable today. “I’m a big fan.”
“Of me too?” Dorian asks with a suggestive little smirk, hip cocked.
I resist the urge to grab him in a headlock and haul him out. He’s flirty; it’s his thing. Phil’s a free agent. If he wants—
“Of the whole band,” Phil replies smoothly with a polite smile. Daria snickers, always on board with her brother getting taken down a peg. “This is our head seamstress, Heidi. She’s the one who’ll make sure the construction of your garment is perfect.”
I met Heidi the last time I was here, so I just smile at her now while Daria says hello.
Calla takes the reins. “We’ve got a toile for you to try on today, and then a few different fabrics we want you to look at. We have our favorites, but we don’t want to choose something you’d be uncomfortable moving around in.”
She ushers Daria toward the changing space, and I take advantage of Kyle coming in with our drinks—including Dorian’s ridiculous order—to turn to Phil.
“Hi.”
He smiles at me, and it’s not like the one he had on a minute ago. This one feels more personal. Intimate, almost.
“Hey. Thanks for your message this morning. It helped.”
The last of my fear falls away. “I’m glad. After I sent it, I was afraid it might have made things worse—put it at the forefront of your mind.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not how it works.
It’s always at the forefront of my mind, but acknowledging it doesn’t have a negative impact.
” He lays his hand on my forearm and looks up into my eyes.
“I’ve been kind of a wreck most of the week, and I was still unsettled this morning, but your message helped me be less nervous. ”
I swallow. “Good. Uh, did you—”
“I fucking love this thing!”
Daria’s shout breaks the moment, and we both turn to where she’s striding out of the dressing area.
“Look at the range of movement I have!” She swings her arms around energetically in all directions.
“And it’s not ugly.” She faces the mirror and studies herself.
“Although I’m not sure how I feel about these colors. ”
“This is just the mock-up,” Phil assures her, moving away from my side. Dammit. “We constructed it using scraps of fabric we already had to give you an idea of the overall look as well as the fit. Could you stand still with your arms by your sides, please? Let me see how it’s sitting.”
Daria obeys, still looking in the mirror, letting Phil and Heidi move around her, adding the occasional pin and scribbling notes as they murmur to each other.
“Hold your arms like this?” Heidi asks, demonstrating, and then they go back to murmuring and pinning.
Daria meets my gaze over their heads and grins. “I want fifty,” she mouths, and I roll my eyes but nod. It won’t actually be fifty, but if this design works for her, I can definitely make it a staple of her wardrobe.
Finally, Phil stands back with a nod. “I think that’s what we need. Daria, is it okay if I give you a couple of rulers and ask you to pretend they’re drumsticks?”
She shrugs. “Sure.”
Phil steps out, and Calla takes over. “It’ll help us to see how your arms move when you’re working. We can make sure we leave you the room you need.”
“Seriously, I love you guys. If you don’t want a baby, maybe Phil does? Anything for the people who saved me from long sleeves.” She says the last two words the way someone else might say, “bubonic plague.”
“I’ll make sure Phil knows he has options,” Calla says with a wink.
“Lots of options,” Dorian adds, and I wonder how much Daria really loves her brother. Maybe she wouldn’t mind if I punched on him for a bit.
“Options?” Phil asks as he comes back in. “You mean for the fabrics? Yes, we have a lot to show you.” He hands Daria the rulers, smiling innocently, and I glare at Dorian when he opens his mouth. Thankfully, he takes the hint and drinks his coffee instead.
Once Daria has established that she does, in fact, have full range of motion in the top and that it’s slouchy enough for the fabric not to annoy her, we start studying swatches.
Per my instructions, Calla and Phil stuck to a monochrome palette in blacks and grays, but they’ve found some really fun and interesting fabrics, some of which will look incredible under camera lights.
Daria rules out two that don’t pass the touch test for her, and another because the pattern is “ugly.” But she’s good with the rest, and I pick out three that I think will specifically work for the video.
“That’s great, thank you,” Calla says. She’s been making notes of the things Daria liked and disliked, and I know she’s hoping it will come in handy for future orders. “I don’t know if Griff told you that he also wanted us to show you some jeans?”
Daria glances at me. “I don’t remember this?”
“It came up just a few days ago. I happened to see a pair Phil designed that would work well for you.” I’m still not sure how much Phil has told Calla, so I try not to be too detailed.
Shrugging, Daria says, “I always want more jeans. Show me what you got.”