34. Kate
Chapter Thirty-Four
KATE
The days leading up to my trip could not have dragged on any slower than if I’d stayed in bed all day staring at the ceiling. Finally, I’ve arrived in New York. Drew won’t be in until tomorrow evening, which gives me just enough time to settle in at my dad’s townhouse in the West Village, a couple blocks from the Hudson River.
I absolutely love this house. So many beautiful memories here. Perhaps I’ll make some more this week with Drew. The idea brings a smile to my face. I roam the halls and peruse my father’s art collection, paying special attention to the Ferguson Burke pieces. After Drew sent his photograph, commemorating our time together, I hung it in my bedroom immediately.
Every time I look at it, I can’t help but think that it’s really good. And it’s not just because of its sentimental value or because I really, really, really like the photographer. Or at least I don’t think so. His work, his real work, should be out in the world. And now, looking at these sought-after photographs hanging on my father’s Manhattan walls, I’m even more convinced of that.
If only I could convince Drew. The man is so daring in every area of his life except this one. I’m not sure why. I’ve been toying with the idea all week, but now I pull the trigger and reach out to my old friend Olivia Parker from L.A. She left about a year ago when she got a great offer as a curator for a gallery in Chelsea. I have this feeling that she’ll love his work. I have several retailer meetings over the next few days, so what’s one more? Olivia responds immediately, and now I have a lunch date.
Perfect. Now, I just have to get Drew to bring his portfolio. So I give him a call.
“Hey, baby,” he answers, and my stomach swirls in excitement. I love the way he calls me that with a deep bass in his voice. Damn, I can’t wait to get his hands on my body again.
“Hi, there,” I respond in my own flirty way. “I’m walking around the house.”
“Naked, I hope.”
I blush and glance down at my fully clothed body. “Maybe,” I tease.
“That’s it. I’m calling the jet now.” Drew has the kind of wealth that allows him to fly private everywhere.
“Now, hold on. I have a request.”
“Anything for you.” So far, it seems like he means that. But this request isn’t just for me. It’s really for him. For his incredible work. And all the people who will love it as much as I do.
“Can you bring a portfolio of your best photographs? There’s an empty space on this wall that needs an exclusive piece by a very sexy, talented photographer.”
“You’re sweet, Kate,” he says with a gentler tone.
“I’m serious. A Drew Blake would be perfect right here. You’ll see.” Anything of Drew’s would be perfect in this house.
“Okay.”
“So you’ll bring your portfolio?” I ask, just to be sure.
“Anything for my girl,” he says. I love when he calls me that.
“You better get to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The next day is absolutely gorgeous. I walk five minutes up the block to Pastis. Olivia has already arrived at the popular bistro, and I hardly recognize her when she calls out, “Kate! So good to see you.” She kisses my cheek in European fashion but doesn’t offer an L.A. hug.
“You too,” I say, looking her over. Back in L.A., she had bright highlights in her dark brown hair and super tan skin, and the girl could strut in stilettos like no one else. Today, she’s dressed in pointed-toe pumps, wide-leg pants, hair up in an American Ballet Theater bun, and dark, wide-framed glasses. I’ve never seen her without her signature tan in the winter, let alone in the middle of summer. “I love your new city look.”
“Thank you. It’s a whole new world out here,” she says.
“It really is. I just got here, and I already know it’s going to break my heart to leave.”
“Then don’t leave. New York is the best!”
“I’ll admit, this city can be inspiring,” I say, playing with the idea for a second. Part of my heart will live here forever, and it does cross my mind to move back every time I visit. But who wants the hassle of a cross-country move?
“I saw the photos of your new collection. It’s fabulous! It seems like all that time off did you well,” she says, setting her napkin across her lap.
Sure, the time off after my burnout episode was helpful, but it was really my London lover that kickstarted this whole thing. I doubt I would be here having all these retailer meetings if it wasn’t for the inspiration he provided. Not to mention the Frederickson sketchbooks he found for me.
The man is a saint. A saint in leather.
We take some time to catch up on all the ins and outs since the last time we had a meaningful conversation. She tells me how much she enjoys working at the gallery, and I know this is my cue to bring up Drew.
“By any chance, are you looking for new artists?”
“Of course. The gallery-goers are always interested in new voices. Why?” Olivia tilts her head, and a ripple of anticipation shoots through me.
“I have a . . .” What do I call him? Let’s go with, “ friend who’s a very talented photographer. He even studied with Ferguson Burke.”
“Really?” She looks almost as interested in him as I am. “Who is it? Have I heard of him?”
“Probably not. His name is Drew Blake. He’s a fashion photographer and does a lot with Lux Magazine , but his art is stunning. I’m always so moved by it. Would you be willing to take a look?”
Olivia’s intrigued expression turns skeptical, and my stomach tightens. The girl can be tough, and I sense a big fat no coming. “I get a lot of requests like this. Since the advent of Instagram, every idiot with an iPhone thinks they’re God’s gift to photography. But,” she says like it’s a big but , “since I totally respect your taste in art and he studied with Ferguson Burke, I would be happy to take a look.”
It takes all my willpower not to jump up and celebrate this initial victory. “Great! Drew will be in town this week.”
“Then I’d love to meet him. I have some time around eleven tomorrow morning. Would you two be able to stop by? I’d love for you to see the place anyway.” She hands me her business card, and I accept.
“Tomorrow morning is perfect.”
Olivia leans in. “Okay, now tell me the good stuff. What’s going on between you and this photographer?”
“What do you mean?”
“Honey, that goofy grin of yours when you say his name? Please, it’s obvious.”
I want to gush about him. I do. I could talk and talk and talk about him for days and days. But I don’t want the nature of our relationship to color his work. This isn’t a favor in my view. It’s a business connection. “It’s nothing. We’re just hanging out.”
While I know this is an honest answer, I don’t like the way it sounds. I don’t like the way it feels. But for now, for this week, I just want to enjoy my time with him. I’ll worry about the rest later.
After lunch, I head Uptown to meet with the COO of one of the biggest department stores in the country—Winslow Lane. I was under the impression that they wanted to carry my new lingerie line. But they don’t. Instead, they want to do a collaboration deal, an exclusive line for their customers. They say they’ve wanted to work with a lingerie designer for a while now, and when they saw my new collection, they knew they wanted me.
I’m floored! This is how designers become household names. Not to mention the influx of capital the deal would bring. I want to jump on the deal but I strategically let them know that I have other meetings, and I’ll get back to them soon with my decision. For now, I have another very important meeting to get to.