20. vanity fair #2
Othello puts his arms around my shoulders and then kisses the side of my cheek.
“How long have you known Othello?” Collette asks.
“Not too long. Three months.” I say without missing a beat. Because in reality, that is when we met.
“Things must be pretty heavy between you two?”
“Not too much,” I insist bashfully. “It’s only been three months.”
“I proposed to Angela after two weeks of knowing her. When a man knows. He knows.”
“We’re taking our time, right now,” I say. “Right, honey?”
Othello takes my hand in his and brushes a kiss across my knuckles in response.
Angela lets out a rich, melodic laugh. “Oh, sweetheart. A man doesn’t take a woman he’s taking his time with to a wedding, dear.”
If only they knew that we came here separately.
The servers set our first course before us.
A Caesar salad with Parmesan crisp and garlic breadcrumbs.
The conversation splinters into smaller ones by the time our main courses arrive.
Given the choice between fish and beef, I opt for the miso-glazed sea bass while Othello chooses wagyu beef with roasted mushrooms and rice.
Angela and Collette commend me on my journey with Mod, giving out pointers and asking about its future plans.
James and Othello fall into an animated discussion about sports.
The one conversation I am hoping to see happen never comes.
I’ve waited to see Othello and Gavin converse about something.
Anything. But it’s a lost cause. They don’t even acknowledge each other.
“You know,” Collette says in the middle of our conversation. “I was going to wait until after dinner, but I simply can’t keep it to myself any longer.”
This phrase piques a few ears, and even Carina turns, looking just as confused as I feel.
“Mom, what are you talking about?” she interjects.
“I know I’m no longer in the game,” Collette air-quotes. “But apparently, I still have no patience when it comes to a good story.”
“Mom, please let her enjoy her vacation.”
“And her dinner,” Jerome adds, stuffing his mouth with red snapper.
“She shall! She shall! I just keeping seeing this vision and Marley can bring said vision to life. It won’t be like work at all. ”
“What won’t be like work?” I ask, itching for her to say whatever it is she’s building up to.
“My latest idea.” She leans into the table, her eyes glittering. “I want Mod to cover Carina’s wedding.”
My brain short-circuits, struggling to catch up with the words that just came out of Collette’s mouth. “Wait…you what?”
Then, from Carina, who looks beyond mortified. “Mom, no!”
“I think it would be perfect for you, dear. And for Mod, don’t you agree, Angela?”
Angela nods, her smile as bright as the diamonds sparkling around her neck.
“You are a visionary, Marley. I believe you can make this story unique.”
A server steps between Collette and Jerome to refresh their champagne glasses, but Collette barely pauses.
“This will be cinematic, intimate. Romantic. I can see the spread now. I’ve read your editor’s letters,” Collette says, her eyes piercing into mine.
“You understand longing. You know how to make readers feel like they’re being invited inside something beautiful.
This story won’t look like a generic celebrity feature. It will read like vintage Vanity Fair.”
Angela coos. “Oh, yes! I see it too. This will be lovely.”
“You see what I mean?” Collette offers.
Carina groans and rolls her eyes, but Collette looks almost spellbound as she speaks, completely swept up in some vision forming inside her brain, and I wonder if this is what it’s like to work with her.
Work with her?
My goodness, I’m going to be working with a legend.
Wait, does that mean I accept?
My stomach flips, and Othello’s gentle squeeze on my shoulder reminds me that I’m not alone. While most of the guests at this table carry on with their own conversations, the people closest to me, including Carina, are watching and hanging on to our every word.
“There’s something about you that tells me I can trust you,” Collette says.
My smile dims, and guilt immediately crawls up my throat. I reach for my water cup, taking a long sip, as if it might somehow wash the feeling down.
“Which means I trust you with this story,” she continues. “And before you say anything, just know you will have full access. It will be exclusive to only Mod.”
The look of doubt on my face makes her laugh.
“Yes, I know. There has been speculation online, of course.” She waves her hand dismissively.
“But all they see is my daughter taking another one of her elaborate vacations. There have been no details about the ceremony. My team and I have kept NDAs in place and have a tight-lipped staff.” She motions around the table.
“The guest list is personal for a reason. We have trusted friends and family here that know to keep this under wraps.” A pleased smile graces her mauve-painted lips, and she picks up her glass of bubbly.
I finally let out a breath of air I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Carina’s Wedding.
Exclusive access.
Collette Randolph. A freaking icon!
I can’t believe this. I try not to let out a scream of glee as I digest everything I’ve been told.
But I’m literally shaking with excitement.
This is the kind of opportunity I couldn’t say no to.
And the fact that she was offering it to me over dinner was a story my staff would swear I made up for dramatic effect.
This is too good to be true.
Maybe she’s not serious.
“Are you serious?” I ask.
“Oh, she’s serious,” Jerome mutters, around another bite of his fish. “She just doesn’t know how to stop working even when she claims she’s retired.”
Collette swats at her husband. “Oh, stop it! This will be great for Marley and great for me. Well, Carina,” she corrects before stabbing a roasted carrot with her fork.
“Can I have some time to think about it?” I ask.
Angela grunts out loud, and Collette’s fork drops and clinks against her plate. “Darling, what is there to think about?” she asks, looking slightly offended.
“You're being handed the story of a lifetime, and you're asking for time to think about it?” Angela adds.
“Oh, I mean, it’s an amazing, wonderful opportunity. I just meant I need to talk to my team and see if–”
“See if what?” Collette asks incredulously. “I’m sure your team would be over the moon with an idea like this.”
Angela steps in again. “Honey, this wedding is the most anticipated wedding of the year. You’d be silly to turn this down. No offense.”
They’re both right. My team had been prepared to chase this story down and fight for the exclusive. But now it was being personally handed to us by the mother of the bride herself.
It was a no-brainer.
Yes!
Of course I’d take the offer. But presenting it to me with Carina shooting daggers was a little nerve-racking. Did she even want my magazine to cover her wedding? Or was Collette forcing this on her?
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit, with a disbelieving laugh.
Collette spears another veggie with her fork and then points it at me. “Say yes! Because I won’t take no for an answer. We can get together tomorrow and elaborate more on the concept. I want this to read like something timeless and not a generic puff piece.”
“Of course. And thank you,” I tell her, because I don’t know what else to say. “Truly. This means a lot.”
I’m bursting with joy on the inside. Ready to scream and cry at the same time, but I keep myself together. Othello leans over and whispers in my ear, “Congrats.”
“Thank you,” I whisper back.
When I look at Carina, she’s giving me a look so cold, I almost feel a chill.