Chapter Five.
Alicia
Winona led me into the building, which I now knew was an exclusive club. This was somewhere Oliver had set his sights on joining. Inside boasted sheer luxury, with wooden panels and decorated ceilings. The entire place dripped with money.
“We’ve a suite here. It belongs to the WS Club,” Winona said after I checked in at the reception desk.
“WS Club?”
“One day, we’ll explain… if you make the cut. Come on, Alicia,” Winona ordered, walking towards a discreet elevator. We entered, and Winona turned, wrinkling her nose. “Darling, you’re no older than twenty-six? Twenty-seven? Why on earth do you resemble an old society madam?”
Already agitated, I felt the rebuke and looked down at my clothing. “You don’t like these?”
“No. They’re styled for a grandma, and you’re certainly not that. I can’t believe the woman who wore that stunning dress yesterday is wearing crap like this. Is your entire wardrobe the same?”
“Sensible? Apart from my gardening clothes, yes. I don’t enjoy being on display,” I replied.
“You don’t, or Oliver doesn’t?” Winona demanded. The doors opened, and we stepped out into a foyer. Confused, I paused. Were we in the wrong place?
“Alicia! God, why do you resemble an old woman? I’m older than you and dress younger,” Oceana exclaimed as she peered out of a set of double doors.
“Oceana, I was just asking the same,” Winona agreed.
“Are you ladies usually so…” I struggled to find a polite way to say they were rude without being insulting.
“Abrupt? Blunt? Ill-mannered?” Rebel laughed as we walked into what was a penthouse.
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
“And there she is, a flash of the real Alicia, not the Stepford Wife you portray. Congrats, darling,” Saska stated from a couch.
“What is this?” I asked, confused, looking around.
“A penthouse Aaron bought for us here. Jude owns the building, though. We call this our clubroom,” Winona explained.
“And you all meet here?”
“Yes, whenever possible. Now come and sit, and I’ll fetch drinks. Alicia, you have beautiful hair; let it down, darling, that style must be giving you a headache. Girl, we need to take you shopping,” Zinnia stated. Moments later, Winona undid my hair, letting it fall freely.
“That has to feel better,” Winona stated.
As loath as I was to admit it, it did.
“Did you bring the designs? Is that what’s in there?” Rebel demanded.
“Yes, I brought them, but I wouldn’t want to waste your time,” I replied. I was on edge and out of my comfort zone. For two cents, I’d rather be at home with Oliver, but he needed this.
“Gimme.” Zinnia made grabby hands.
I handed over the case reluctantly, and Zinnia unzipped it. She took a book out and began flipping through it. Anxiety rode me as I watched, but I was unsure why. The designs were a beginner level.
Saska brought over a glass of Coke, which she knew I had been drinking from last night.
Zinnia had a frown as she flipped through the first few pages of my sketchbook and then stopped.
She went back to the beginning and studied each one in detail.
Her lips pursed, and I wondered what she was thinking.
“Here,” she said, passing the book to Winona. Zinnia reached in, grabbed several other books, and handed them out. For half an hour, I sat there, uncomfortable and almost squirming, as they checked the images.
“How many sketchbooks do you own?” Winona inquired.
“Over one hundred,” I murmured, unsure of what answer they wanted.
“There aren’t that many here,” Winona mused, looking in my case.
“No. I left loads at home.”
“And they’re all full?” Saska asked with her gaze on a page.
“Yup.”
“There’s thousands of designs then?” Zinnia inquired.
“I’ve been designing since I was fourteen. Some are very childish,” I replied deprecatingly.
“True, some are a little dated, but a quick review would update them. If I’m correct, you’ve twelve years of designs?” Rebel quizzed.
“Yes. But they’re so… amateurish. I don’t need telling,” I murmured with a blush.
“Darling, I hate to tell you, but someone has fed you bullshit. These are brilliant. The clean lines, eye for colour, and attention to detail. This evening gown, I’d die for,” Saska said.
“It’s young, modern, racy without being tacky; I’d easily wear that to an awards night.
In fact, I know you can sew. Make this for me.
As you’re new and unknown… Alicia, I’ll pay five thousand for it, after costs. ”
I swear my eyes bugged out. A nervous laugh escaped, and I shook my head. “You don’t have to do that. Saska, I’m aware these aren’t great.”
“Again, someone is lying and undermining your talent. These are amazing. And I want this evening gown. Actually, several others caught my eye, but that one… yeah, I have a big event in a few weeks. Honey, make that please,” Saska demanded.
Upset, I shook my head. “Please, I don’t deserve to be teased. And I certainly don’t enjoy it.”
“Who told you your designs are shit?” Winona asked bluntly.
I bit the inside of my cheek. Oliver had.
He’d laughed at them when I left college and called them pedestrian, suitable for the high-street working-class shops.
Had Oliver been wrong? He told me they would be great at making the everyday person appear attractive.
But for Eliganz, they were unacceptable.
I inwardly sighed. Oliver had been overwhelmed, almost drowning in trying to get the company where it needed to be.
He couldn’t be blamed for not looking at the designs properly.
If they were as good as the women said, then Oliver had probably criticised them by error.
Clearly, I’d caught him at the wrong time, and if Oliver saw them again, he wouldn’t be so cruel. Bless him, my timing always sucked.
“Oliver did,” Winona guessed.
“Oliver knows plenty about fashion,” I defended.
“When I showed him these, he’d had a bad day.
” I didn’t like the way they swapped glances.
“I get the feeling you ladies don’t approve of Oliver.
Well, he’s a good man. Oliver works hard for us and has sacrificed so much.
He wouldn’t have put me down on purpose. Oliver wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Oliver has a lot of control over your life,” Oceane said. “Look at what you’re wearing. It’s asexual, ages you, and is unflattering. I highly doubt a woman of your age would deliberately pick that.”
“Well, I did.”
“By choice or because Oliver recommended it?” Zinnia challenged. “Alicia, Winona is nearly two decades older than you and dresses far younger.”
“Hey!” Winona exclaimed, amused.
“You know what I mean.” Zinnia waved Winona’s objections away.
“Oliver doesn’t control my life. I love my husband; why is it so wrong to want to make things easier for him?” I demanded. My temper was rising. Oliver was a good man. He took care of me, and they had no right to dismiss or criticise him.
“It’s not,” Winona said. “We all adore our husbands.”
I watched as Winona tapped her chin and then picked up a book and flicked through it again.
“For thirty years, Alicia, I’ve attended red carpet events, balls, and whatnot.
I know excellence when I see it. The designs are beautiful with a spark of genius.
Now Oliver runs a fashion chain; he’s not haute couture.
Oliver is a ready-to-wear line, though on the higher-quality side.
Some of these sketches are definitely haute couture. ” Winona tapped her finger on the book.
She exchanged a glance with Zinnia, who pursed her lips and shrugged. “I’m not convinced,” Zinnia strangely said.
“Me either,” Oceane agreed.
I was confused. What were they talking about? Why did I feel like I was on the outside, peering in? I didn’t like this. It made me feel inadequate.
“However, those designs are inspired,” Rebel stated.
Saska made a gesture of indifference. “The WS Club helps people, Alicia. Not often, mind you, just one or two that we think are worth it. These sketches show you have talent. Don’t doubt that. If you could design, would you?”
“Yes. That’s my long-term plan. Once Oliver has Eliganz established and where he wants it, I’d like to return to the fashion industry. However, right now, Oliver needs my support at home,” I replied.
“Why? What do you manage that a housekeeper can’t?” Oceane challenged.
Defensively, I opened my mouth and closed it. That was a good point. These ladies were confusing me. I frowned and rubbed my chin.
“Alicia. Make this dress for me. I’ll wear it at the event, and we can analyse the outcome of the reactions,” Saska said.
I regarded Saska thoughtfully. “And what if people like it?”
“Then we discuss whether we set you up in a company of your own. But don’t tell Oliver our plans. What happens in the WS club stays here. If you can’t keep this a secret, then you’ll not be invited back, and that would go badly for Oliver,” Winona said.
Alarmed, I sat up straight. “Is that a threat?”
“No. I’ll be blunt with you. Oliver is one in a thousand businessmen looking to gain our husbands’ investments.
He’s nothing special compared to most seeking funding.
Honestly, Aaron would have refused him after last night.
Oliver is ambitious and has accomplished a great deal.
We’ve been watching his rise, but he’s stalled over the last six months because he needs this influx.
Without it, Oliver will stay where he is,” Winona stated.
“Nobody has impressed us much lately. They’re all the same, and Oliver falls into the same category,” Saska added.
“Why would that matter to your husbands? It’s their businesses,” I replied, confused, trying to work stuff out.
Oceane grinned. “Like many of those touting for investment, most assume we’re trophy wives or women to suck up to for favours.
Pamper us, show some interest, and our husbands will approve.
In fact, that attitude is likely to turn them off.
The surefire way to get to know someone is to speak to their nearest and dearest. Truthfully, Oliver doesn’t impress any of us, but you do.
We see potential in you, but we’re not convinced you’ll follow through.
” That explained Zinnia’s and Winona’s comments.
I swallowed hard, remembering the instructions Oliver had given me. Thank God I hadn’t put them in place. If I’d followed them, I’d have blown this out of the water. Luckily, they had blindsided me first. Inwardly, I sighed in relief.
“Okay?” I muttered, wondering where this was going.
“No offence, but women like you? A dime a dozen. Dull, uptight, moulded into what men think is the perfect wife. You were merely one among many. No personality, no colour, no vibrancy. The ideal foil to Oliver and the devoted wife. As I said, boring,” Oceane stated.
She pointed her finger as I bristled. “Then you did something interesting. You wore a dress of your own design to an important meeting. A spark of individuality. That caught our attention because that was a bold move.”
Bold? I wouldn’t call it that, but if it kept Oliver in play, I’d accept it. They thought my husband was commonplace; Oliver was anything but. He was special; they just needed to see him as I did. I’d play along to give Oliver time to gain what he required.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“You designed that dress, which means you sew,” Saska checked.
“Yes. I’m capable of taking measurements, etcetera.”
“Damn well hope so,” Rebel stated. “You did attend college to learn how.”
I rolled my eyes before I could stop; they’d done their background too, and once more saw interest flare. Rebel grinned.
“Okay, let’s discuss specifics. Material, colour, and accessories,” Saska said and handed me a blank notebook and pen. I smiled weakly and got down to business.
Two weeks later
Oliver was working late, so I had the entertainment channel on and was watching the Silver Dust Music Awards.
It was one of the biggest events in the industry, and there were a lot of big names there.
A limo pulled up, and the doors opened, and Brock, Saska’s husband, emerged.
Brock held his hand out, and Saska gripped it, then stepped out.
“Wow, check out that gown!” Lesli, a commentator, gasped.
“Brett, Saska’s publicity team announced an up-and-coming designer would dress Saska. Quite a risk for an event like this, but damn, that dress is breathtaking. Saska!” Lesli called.
“Lesli, nice to see you.” Saska smiled as Brock hovered beside her.
“Saska, you look stunning. Who created this fabulous creation?” Lesli demanded.
“Ah.” Saska looked up at Brock and grinned. “I’m not sure I should say. She’s my discovery,” Saska bantered, and Brock laughed.
“A mystery! How intriguing, or are you frightened Brock will steal her away and invest in her?” Lesli teased.
“No doubt Brock would try,” Saska quipped as Brock chuckled and offered an indulgent smile.
“But Mystique is mine.” Saska looked around and moved closer to Lesli.
She took on a conspiratorial look. “A little secret. Mystique is also dressing Winona Sinclair for the opening of her new movie. And I may have told Rebel Knox about Mystique for her award ceremony.”
With that, Saska stepped back, waved and headed up the carpet. I stared in disbelief at the television. What had Saska just done? I wasn’t designing anything for Rebel and Winona. In sheer shock, I slumped down and shook my head.
Oh no.
Winona
I dived into the reviews of last night’s Stardust event and grinned.
Unsurprisingly, Saska was a headliner, and the dress was being raved about.
It also amused me that she’d dropped hints about me wearing one of Alicia’s designs.
Even funnier was the fact that she’d mentioned Rebel, who was notorious for loathing designer gear.
Rebel was a true gamer, more interested in bytes, programming languages, and coding.
“Anything interesting?” Aaron asked as he sat at the table, eating his breakfast.
“Yes, darling, my little project might be a hit. We’ll summon Alicia today while she’s on the back foot,” I said.
“Summon?” Aaron was amused. “Why the interest in Alicia Kensington?”
“Because any of us could have been her,” I replied, and Aaron pursed his lips.
Aaron hated thinking of my past and what happened. Nobody screwed with me now; Aaron would destroy them. Some had learnt that the hard way. But back then, my life had spiralled out of control through no fault of my own. I might easily have become Alicia Kensington myself.
Now, I was in a position to help people, and Alicia didn’t understand just how badly she needed my guiding hand. Not yet, but she would.