Chapter 4 #2
Dodging the daggers I was sure the rest of the StyleList team were mentally chucking my way, I surreptitiously gave the toast to Natasha and went back indoors, where the crowd had grown considerably larger.
Though my preteen years of fuzzy hair, braces, and glasses had left me with a vague feeling of geekiness that no designer gear or new hairstyle could shake, this party would have intimidated any mortal.
I grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and affixed what I hoped was a confident smile on my face.
Then I heard an unmistakably Black woman’s voice calling over the din: “Here, sis, let me help you out.”
I wasn’t sure who the voice was addressing, but I figured the odds were good it was me.
Sure enough, a gorgeous willowy woman approached me wearing a skintight Dolce it felt as if Barbara was gauging my very character.
“You mean you haven’t met Nicole Rose yet?
” Kiara put both hands on Barbara’s shoulders and stared up at her as if she were flabbergasted.
It was a little exaggerated, but Kiara was doing me a solid.
“She’s like the second coming over at StyleList, head of features and Lucinda’s right hand. Nikki, this is Barbara Porter.”
Kiara winked at me from behind Barbara’s back, then faded into the crowd.
Barbara and I were suddenly alone. Though I appreciated Kiara’s Oscar-worthy intro, I could tell by the neutral look on Barbara’s face that this was a woman who made up her own damn mind about people.
I took a deep breath and plunged in: “I’ve admired your career for many years, and it’s a tremendous pleasure to finally meet you.
” Barbara’s face remained immobile, so I tried another approach: “America is so ready for NuVoices Media. You really tapped into the cultural zeitgeist.”
Barbara took a large gulp of her wine, her eyes starting to wander around the room. I blurted: “Congratulations on Sugar. It’s a great idea, and even though it’s a bit, um, rough around the edges, the magazine definitely has promise.”
Well, that was one way to get her attention.
I hadn’t intended on going down this path, but the champagne had relaxed my filter and my judgment.
Barbara let an extra-long silence linger between us while she scrutinized me with amusement.
“Oh, you think it has … promise, do you? Enlighten me, please.”
It was too late to turn back, so I ignored her condescending tone and barreled forward.
“I mean, there’s a whole generation of women who grew up with urban culture and who are defining mainstream culture right now.
I’m around high-end designers all the time at StyleList, and I can tell you that they are looking to young Black women for inspiration.
” Barbara was nodding so I felt emboldened enough to ask, “But why is Sugar dumbing it down? There’s no bona fide style coverage or stories on serious issues.
And the design is…” I took a breath and looked her in the eye.
“I mean, I’m Sugar’s target audience, and I think that my friends and I deserve a chic, cool, and smart magazine. ”
Barbara raised an eyebrow. “Are you the target audience, though? What exactly do you know about urban fashion and lifestyle?” she asked, taking in my outfit again.
“Enough to know that Sugar isn’t hitting the mark.
” I shrugged, trying not to look shocked at my own nerve.
Kiara might have hesitated to introduce me to Barbara had she known that my first order of business would be to insult NuVoices’ newest brand.
But Barbara’s penetrating glare didn’t allow for artifice.
Barbara contemplated my tacit request, pressing her lips together and looking skyward as if she were doing complex math in her head.
As an apology was forming on my lips, she handed me a business card.
“My assistant’s name is Erika. I’ll let her know StyleList’s ‘second coming’ will be calling me to discuss Sugar.
” I caught the glimmer of a smile on her face as she walked away.
I decided to leave while I was ahead and made my way toward the elevator.
Outside, Kiara was patiently escorting a drunk teenage model into a taxi.
Once the girl was safely tucked into the back seat and the driver was given a fifty with specific instructions to deliver her home and nowhere else, Kiara came over to me.
“Poor thing. And that would be a Page Six nightmare. I simply cannot have an underage cover girl fall out at one of my events. You off so early?”
“Yeah, I probably should be a good StyleList girl and hang in there, but I’m beat,” I said, slightly embarrassed to be called out again on my lack of coolness.
I really was tired, though, and they were just starting the part of the evening where various sycophants would deliver their tributes to Lucinda.
Since I’d written one of them, I felt I’d done my part.
“Well, you seemed to have gotten enough done in the time you were in there.” Kiara winked at me again. This girl didn’t miss a trick.
“Thanks again for hooking me up with Barbara.”
“Not a problem, love. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again,” Kiara replied, kissing me on both cheeks. She paused before adding, “And you just let me know what you need. Any enemy of that sleaze Alonzo Griffin is a friend of mine.”
Our eyes met and we nodded at each other. So, Kiara had heard. My mortification was as real as my gratitude that she was clearly an ally.
As she started to head back into the building, I called out, “Hey Kiara. I have a question for you.”
She stopped in the doorway at the sound of my voice. “What’s up, ma?”
My curiosity had gotten the better of me: “Matsumoro?”
She laughed and yelled back, “I’m married to Ricky Matsumoro.”
The famous real estate developer. Over the past decade, he had been buying hotels and restaurants around downtown New York City, redoing the interiors in a signature chic style, and reopening them to critical acclaim.
Even though StyleList had covered their elegant wedding, I hadn’t registered who she was.
“Lucky girl,” I yelled back. We smiled at each other once more, then she disappeared into the building, and I sank into a waiting taxi.