Chapter 20
TWENTY
The applause that followed Ryan’s show was so enthusiastic that Art wanted to rise up out of his seat, not to clap along with them for Ryan, but to congratulate the high-fashion crowd for showing good taste.
“Bravo!” he called out, a too-broad grin on his face that would probably embarrass Ryan if he saw it.
In fact, Ryan did see it. He walked out with his showstopper model at the end of the show to receive his accolades from the audience, and of course he looked right at Art and Graeme.
Art clapped even harder, and when Ryan spotted him, he let out an entirely inappropriate cat-call.
Graeme hid his face for a moment, though he was beaming, and Ryan shook his head, cheeks flushed pink with happiness, and walked on to the backstage area.
Personally, Art thought everyone in the room should have stayed right where they were and demanded to see the show again.
Or they should have lined up to speak to Ryan and to demand that he design for their shops, or however things worked in the fashion industry.
He didn’t really know how designs went from a runway show to racks on the high street, but it didn’t really matter.
The changeover from the end of Ryan’s show to the beginning of the next one was so fast that Art’s head spun a little as he grabbed Graeme’s hand to push their way through the people streaming into the room and out of it.
“Let’s go find our man,” he called to Graeme over the noisy buzz of people talking and staff trying to get everyone organized.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to get to the staging area like we did last time,” Graeme said, nodding to the pair of guards that was placed at the entrance they’d snuck past earlier.
“I can talk my way into anything anywhere,” Art said with a cheeky grin and a wink.
He could not, in fact, talk his way into anywhere. He tried, but the guards were unrelenting. Of course, while he attempted to charm and cajole the guards into letting them past, Graeme had pulled out his mobile and texted Ryan.
“He says he will meet him downstairs in the courtyard,” he told Art once he’d given up and walked away from the frowning guards. “There’s some sort of reception down there anyhow, and we can also grab lunch.”
“It’s a little late for lunch,” Art said, following Graeme nonetheless as he made his way down the wide staircase, into the lobby, and around the corner, heading to the courtyard at the center of the majestic building.
“We drove all the way here from Cornwall in one go, without stopping,” Graeme pointed out. “I don’t know how you’re not starving.”
Lunch took a bit of work to get, since there were so many people vying for only a few tables and neither Art’s name nor Graeme’s was on the list for the posher of the two restaurants in the courtyard. They did manage to get something, though.
Art grinned as he ate a quick salad. Graeme had been clever and caring enough to contact Ryan effectively and to remind them to eat.
He’d been brash and bold enough to get them a table and service when the entire place was overly busy and the staff was overworked.
And once Ryan came down to meet them, all smiles and glazed eyes, like he was still caught up in the whirlwind of his success, the Wallace Collection staff comped all of their meals before they shifted over to the private reception area.
“I don’t care what anyone says about us,” he commented as the three of them took flutes filled with something pink and fizzy from a server who was carrying them around the reception on a silver tray, like they were at some sort of truly aristocratic event, “the three of us make an amazing team. Together, we get the job done.”
“I never would have dreamed of saying this before the summer,” Graeme said, shaking his head slightly in disbelief, “but I agree with you. We’re a team. No, we’re something more than a team.”
“We’re a throuple,” Ryan said, looking dazzlingly happy as he raised his glass.
Art rushed to raise his as well, and so did Graeme. God—or rather, Goddess—only knew what they looked like to the people around them, but he didn’t care one bit. How he and his men found fulfillment was no one else’s business.
That went double, or maybe triple, when Giorgio Esposito arrived in the room, a shorter, animated man by his side.
Right from the start, Art was positively giddy that the bastard looked as grumpy as a cow with a stick up its backside.
It was even better when the animated man spotted Ryan, waved at him, then dragged Giorgio over toward them.
“Oh fuck,” Ryan mumbled softly, standing taller and putting on a tight smile. “It’s Marco Valliant.”
“I have no idea who that is,” Art laughed. “But with a name like that, I need to know him.”
“He’s a fellow designer,” Ryan said. That was all he had time to say before Giorgio and Marco reached them. “Marco, Giorgio, hello. What did you think of the show?”
The question seemed innocent enough, but Art could see it was designed both to suss Marco out and possibly to take a dig at Giorgio.
It worked on both accounts.
“I thought it was fantastic,” Marco said, his accent American instead of Italian, like Art would have expected. “Positively brilliant. You captured the energy of three so well and it had a beautiful, spring feeling.”
The man grabbed Ryan and pulled him close for a kiss to each cheek.
Art couldn’t help himself. “Do I get one, too?” he asked, flirting shamelessly.
Graeme looked horrified. Ryan tensed. But Marco laughed, swept Art up and down with a look, and said, “Of course you do.”
He leaned in to kiss each of Art’s cheeks, getting a little handsy, and smelling of expensive cologne. Art loved it. And he knew how to set Marco back on his feet in his own space without making it seem like he was pushing the man away.
Giorgio had looked grumpy before, but he seemed livid now. Especially when Marco said, “It’s so refreshing to see the idea of triads acknowledged so openly. You know I have two partners, too, don’t you?”
“I do,” Ryan said, relaxing visibly. “This is Arthur Johnson and Graeme Dallen.”
“It’s absolutely a pleasure to meet you,” Marco said, shaking Graeme’s hand.
“And you, sir,” Graeme said, eyes a bit wide and face flushed, like he was in way over his head.
“We should all get together sometime,” Art said, shaking Marco’s hand as well, even though he’d just cheek-kissed the man. “We could have fun.”
“We absolutely could,” Marco said, lowering his voice so Art understood exactly what sort of fun he meant.
“You’ll have to excuse Art,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes. “He’s feral. We haven’t quite tamed him yet.” He took Graeme’s hand as he spoke.
“I understand,” Marco laughed. “There’s always one in every relationship, right?”
The whole exchange was light and casual.
The four of them clicked and felt easy with each other.
But Giorgio stood by the side glowering the whole time.
“We need to get going, Marco,” he said in a bored voice the second there was a lull in the conversation.
“180 The Strand is waiting,” he added with more than a little gloating.
Ryan handled the attempted slight with perfect grace. “Don’t let me keep you,” he said, touching Marco’s arm.
“We do have to go,” he said. “But I’ll call you. We’ll talk. I might have a place for you in my house.”
“Thank you,” Ryan said before the man could turn away, “but I’m starting my own line. I’ll be working for myself from now on.”
“Excellent,” Marco said, even though Giorgio was doing everything short of grabbing his belt and tugging to get him to move away. “If you need any sort of help, let me know.”
“I will, thank you,” Ryan said, sending Giorgio a gloating smile.
A few seconds later, once Giorgio and Marco were gone and it was just the three of them again, Ryan sighed and said, “I shouldn’t have baited Giorgio like that. He’s not going to give up making my life miserable and trying to destroy my career because of one success in London.”
“But good things will happen now, right?” Graeme asked, setting his half-empty flute on a small table near them. “You’ll be able to make deals in the fashion world and get people to wear your clothes, won’t you?”
Ryan sighed, downed the last of his bubbly, and set his glass aside as well.
“Who knows?” He shrugged. “Fashion is a fickle business. Giorgio might be the biggest name on the planet by the end of the weekend, or he might fade into obscurity. I won’t know how this silly old career of mine will go until it goes. ”
“But this is still what you want, isn’t it?” Graeme asked as Ryan gestured for the three of them to walk toward the far side of the room. “Do you still want to be a big name in fashion?”
“Yes,” Ryan said, smiling for a change instead of looking like he was about to be dragged across a cheese grater. “I love what I do and I want to keep on doing it.”
“What you do or who you do?” Art teased him.
Ryan sent him a lopsided, sideways grin. “Both,” he said. “I’m in my ‘why-choose’ era.”
Art laughed. His heart felt so light that it was amazing his feet touched the ground.
It was even better when several more luminaries of the design world pulled Ryan aside to congratulate him and to chat.
Art still didn’t know what was going on, but from the sound of the conversations around them, a few retailers were interested in his collection and might just want to work with him.
The schmoozing lasted well past the afternoon. Even after that, Ryan had invitations to attend some of the other shows around London. Art and Graeme stuck by his side for as long as they could, but Art could see Graeme was flagging by the time supper rolled around.
“Are you going to paint the town red tonight along with the rest of your fashion friends?” Art asked Ryan when he spotted Graeme nodding off in the corner of the restaurant where they’d joined several of Ryan’s colleagues.