Constance #2
Then, I did what I needed to do to be alone with him for a few minutes, but I couldn’t bring up the topic.
It had to come from him. At first, we discussed the most mundane things, like what he wanted for lunch.
I took his order myself because I didn’t want our assistant to come near him. He was mine.
You always know what I want, Dorian said. Well, maybe not always.
He looked hurt. Disappointed.
What do you mean? I asked, alarmed.
He looked away. It’s my fault, really. I really wish… I have feelings I can’t control. And when I see you, all of you, all I can think about is that it’s never enough.
Did I wonder why he didn’t kiss me? Why he didn’t try to have sex with me? Or, crazy idea of all crazy ideas, why he didn’t ask me on a good old-fashioned date? Yes, I thought about that every minute of every day. It kept me up at night. But we were headed in that direction. We had to be.
In the meantime, the whole thing felt so sexy.
Men like him existed on a different planet.
I couldn’t expect it would be the same as with any of my exes.
That was what it was like to be with a famous man.
He needed to know I really wanted him. That I was all his, without restraints.
That I would do anything for him. Anything.
I started making videos. Played with, um, postures, dialogue, described the things I hoped he would do to me, all the things I wanted to do to him.
I sent those and, again, there was no response.
I don’t know how long I would have continued like this. But then I found out that Carly was seeing him again just ten days later. Much sooner than any of our previous encounters. The idea was exhilarating. It made me lose my mind a little bit. Even more than I already had, you might say.
At the last minute, Carly informed me that I didn’t need to attend the session. She was styling him for just one event—an industry luncheon with Vanity Fair—and she’d be fine on her own. Imagine how I felt when I heard that. I wouldn’t get to see Dorian after all.
That wasn’t an option.
By that point, I’d worked for Carly for three years.
I was still technically an assistant, but I’d moved up the ranks.
It was someone else’s job to set up the hotel room in downtown LA.
I lied to Carly’s other assistant, Ella, and told her I’d be delivering the clothes to the hotel myself, per Carly’s request. I’d checked the schedule.
Dorian’s arrival time was on there, but the meeting with Carly wouldn’t happen until late that afternoon.
Carly was always strict about keeping her agenda updated, so I couldn’t have guessed that there had been a last-minute change. That she and Dorian would be walking in, together, just thirty minutes after I arrived.
My idea had seemed brilliant. I’d film one of my videos there. Dorian would recognize the room and would love the initiative. He’d love it so much he’d invite me back there. This would be our night, at long last.
After months of waiting, I needed this to be our night.
I don’t think I need to paint too much of a picture. Me naked on the sprawling bed, doing things to myself. Narrating the whole way.
I didn’t hear them come in. I never knew what they heard, only what they saw.
What I saw was my boss, one of the biggest stylists in Hollywood, she of the flawless reputation, she of the ultrafeminist brand, she of the huge following… I saw her gasp in shock, arms idle by her side.
Dorian had fled the room almost immediately, and Carly had soon run after him.
When she summoned me later that day at a coffee shop in West Hollywood, I tried to explain to her what had been going on between Dorian and me.
The whole thing wasn’t as nutty as it looked.
But I didn’t know what Dorian had told her.
I didn’t realize how the facts had been framed.
How the story had already been twisted. As if he was an innocent victim of my relentless harassment.
I turned to Carly now, a new fire raging inside me. I had to let it all out or risk regretting it for the rest of my life.
“You didn’t listen to me then, but I’m not going to give you a choice now. Dorian asked for those pictures. He told me he wanted me, he needed me.”
“You did this to me,” I said to Dorian now. “You manipulated me, you made me want you so much I lost my fucking mind.”
Dorian wasn’t looking at me. He let out a pained sigh as he turned to Carly.
“I’m really sorry you have to see this. She’s in Cannes. She’s everywhere I go. Even this party in the middle of the sea.”
“You should talk to your security,” Carly said.
Dorian shook his head. “I never responded to any of her messages, and yet they kept coming and coming. She stopped for a while, but the problem hasn’t gone away.”
“You’re the problem!” I screamed. “You did this to me!”
Even though my eyes were trained on Dorian, I couldn’t help but notice the flicker of discomfort on Carly’s face. For a second, I thought it was doubt. That she might come to see my side of things.
“Please believe me,” I pleaded. “Please. You were the most incredible boss I ever had. I worshipped you.”
“Keep your voice down,” Carly said.
I was wrong. Carly wouldn’t side with me. She and I were more alike than she wanted to believe. She only saw Dorian, too.
So I snapped.
I was long overdue for it.
“I need you gone!” I said to Dorian. “I need you out of my thoughts, out of my life. You did this! You destroyed me. And I’ve been paying the price for months. But it’s all you. It’s all you! And now you’re going to pay.”
Those were the last words I would ever say to Dorian Fisher.
An hour later, I watched him die.