De La Porte Fashion: The Complete Box Set

by Mj Fields

  “Over there?” She laughs. “Mostly, not single.”

  “He slept with married women?”

  She tells me, “I assume, he slept with whoever he knew wouldn’t want anything more from him. Some men just aren’t built for relationships, he’s one of them.”

  I nod in understanding, because I see it too, but I see it differently. I see it as he doesn’t deem himself worthy. I know he is. I know he is very capable of ticking off all of Autumn’s list’s boxes.

  God, I hope someday he realizes it. That hope is deeper in me than the scars he covers with ink. I’ll make sure he knows it.

  I look over at Celine and she points to the descending plane. “The ‘rents are coming.”

  I take in a deep breath, inhaling what’s present.

  When the plane lands I can’t help but feel the warmth that accompanies the proximity of the kind of love all mothers should have for their children.

  When the door opens and Mom steps out in a long winter white, wool coat I see the same smile I now wear cross her face. The slight lowering of her shoulders indicates she too was anxious to see me, and it’s now alleviated. Bass steps out behind her and wraps a Burberry scarf around her shoulders and places a kiss on her cheek, causing her to blush when our eyes meet.

  It’s adorable that she’s seems uncomfortable with his affections in front of me. I can’t help but giggle to myself because, hello, clearly, they’re affectionate with one another, or she wouldn’t be forty and pregnant.

  I make a mental note to do some extra gushing at the fact that I’m going to be a big sister so she can relax a bit.

  I look over at Celine who smiles, steps back, and lifts her chin in their direction. “Go get her, girl.”

  Behind the smile, there’s a sadness in her voice, and I make another mental note to ask her, or maybe Oliver, what her relationship with her mother is like.

  As they come down the stairs, I hurry to get to the bottom of them before she does.

  “You look beautiful, Natasha.” She hugs me like we’ve been apart for years, when it’s been less than four days.

  “And you’re glowing.”

  She laughs and hugs me a bit tighter. “I can’t be already.”

  “I’m not sure it’s because of my baby brother or sister, or the man behind you.”

  She steps back and smiles all the way to her eyes. I take her hand and walk toward the car and look over my shoulder. “Hey Bass.”

  “Hey Natasha.”

  Celine opens the door and Mom and I get in the back. Bass walks around the car and gets in the driver’s seat, Celine raises a brow and I laugh as she gets in the passenger seat and then I look at Mom.

  She takes my hand. “Bass said Oliver had mentioned expanding a bit. Do you think London is ready for de la Porte?”

  I nod. “I think London is definitely ready for some change.”

  The building Oliver found on Sloan Street was an old pub and restaurant. And although I’d seen it online, and thought it would be prefect, nothing could have prepared me for how perfect it actually was.

  When we arrive, we’re met by the realtor and a building inspector that Oliver had found. While the inspector walks around, the realtor talks to Bass, Mom and I take the stairs to the fourth floor where we walk around and look at all the possibilities. Inventory storage, offices and rental property are on the list first and then I mention that it would be a great place for her, Bass, Maisie, and the baby when they came to visit. When we find a cargo elevator, we both give each other a look that solidified that’s what it would be… if the inspector came back with no major issues, and Bass and the realtor agreed on a price. When we take the stairs to the fifth floor and find an antique sewing machine, and an old dress form mannequin, both of us laugh.

  We stand in front of the old windows and look out over the busy streets below, and as I close my eyes, mom asks, “What are you imagining?”

  It hadn’t dawned on me until then. Oliver asks me that same question, the one only my mother had ever asked me before him.

  “I’m imagining how peaceful it would be to sit here and draw.”

  “What would you draw?” she whispers as if she doesn’t want to interrupt my thoughts.

  “I’d draw a wedding dress, and a christening gown,” I grin.

  “Well then,” she says with a smile in her voice. “Then we’ll have to convince Bass that this place is perfect regardless of the work it will take to make the building match our feelings for it.”

  “Then let’s make it happen,” Bass says from behind us, making Mom jump.

  Sitting in a pink booth at Sketch, the realtor Bernard, orders a bottle of champagne to celebrate de la Porte’s acquisition of what will be London’s ‘la Placard’.

  When the glass is put in front of me, I glance over at Mom who shrugs. “You’re of legal age here, and you’re with us. If you want to drink it, now’s as good a time as any to experiment.” I look back at the glass and she adds, “If you haven’t already.”

  Guilt immediately sets in and I can’t even look at her. For as long as I have known, I have always confided in her about everything in my life.

  Until now.

  I shake my head and pick up my sparkling water instead.

  After a bit, the realtor leaves us, and we order dinner.

  A few minutes after that, I can’t stand it anymore and I look at Mom.

  She begins, “Honey, whatever it is–”

  I word vomit immediately, “I’ve experimented.”

  “And?”

  “I really wasn’t that good at it.”

  She cocks her head to the side, non-verbally asking me to continue.

  “I threw up.” I hear Bass chuckle and then Mom glares at him.

  When she looks back at me, she asks, “What did you drink?”

  “Well, a shot of gasoline first.”

  “Excuse me?” she asks.

  “Tequila,” Bass and I both answer.

  “Oh for God’s sake, Natasha.” Mom shakes her head in disbelief.

  “Then Apples and Pears, like a sparkling cider, and that wasn’t bad.”

  “But it made you throw up?”

  “No.” I hang my head in shame. “The second shot of tequila did.”

  “Were you at the dorms?”

  “No,” I huff. “I was at a bar.”

  “What bar?”

  I palm my face and shake my head.

  “You don’t remember?” She is trying to remain calm, but I can tell she’s getting upset.

  “I do, but the name is,” I shrug.

  “Natasha–”

  “The Spread Eagle.”

  Bass barks out a laugh and I close my eyes. “Shana has a thing for bars with obscene names. The week before it was a bar called The Cock.”

  When Bass laughs louder, Mom clears her throat and I open my eyes. “I’m more concerned with you getting so drunk you threw up, not the name of a bar. And even more so about how you got home.”

  I sigh, “Well, Oliver happened to be there with Celine and I kind of threw up on him.”

  To that Bass laughs even harder.

  Mom rolls her eyes at him and looks back at me. “And what did you learn from it?”

  “I hate tequila, throwing up, and Oliver isn’t as much of a jerk as he comes off.”

  Mom nods.

  “And while I’m verbally vomiting all my indiscretions, Ines messaged my Instagram page, and yes, I replied. The woman, Celine, is security hired by Oliver, to basically babysit me because he thinks she’s evil.”

  Her response is calm. “Has she messaged you again?”

  “I haven’t checked in a couple days, but Celine has all my social media information, and I share my location with her. If I decide to go out, she’s supposed to be within reach just in case.” I finally look up at Mom. “And I didn’t hide it from you because it makes me sound like a fool, Mom, but because I want you to have a stress-free pregnancy.”

  Bass takes her hand
and I give him an apologetic smile and tell him, “She’d stress more if she found out and it wasn’t from me.”

  “We both knew, Natasha, I just was hoping you’d come to me, and you did, so now my pregnancy is going to be a lot more worry free.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom, truly. But not about Ines. She’s a bully that needs to be put in her place. Oliver has already explained that it shouldn’t be me who does it.”

  She reaches her free hand over to me. “I’m here, for whatever you need to talk about. I’ll give advice, if you want it.”

  I feel instantly relieved. I look at Bass and he nods.

  “And by the way,” Mom smiles when I look at her, “My first experience with alcohol was also tequila and I threw up as well.”

  I accept the invitation to stay with Mom and Bass at their hotel suite for the night instead of going back to the dorms.

  While Mom and I are curled up on the couch, Bass turns on a movie for us.

  I look up from my sketch pad and at him, “What’s this?”

  “Love Actually.” He sits on the opposite side of mom.

  As the movie plays, I begin to sketch

  When the movie starts, I’m only paying half attention as I begin to draw.

  When Mom sighs, I look away from the page and at her. “Men’s clothing?” she asks.

  I nod and look back at the paper.

  “Aaron Esposito?” she whispers.

  I shake my head. “Maybe ten years from now.”

  “So, who’s wearing this?” she asks, looking at the figure I drew.

  “Maybe Bass?”

  Bass looks over at the pad. “Maybe if I gained thirty pounds of muscle.”

  Mom looks closer at the sketch and I look down. When I notice the ink peeking out from under the cuff, I nonchalantly smudge it with the side of my hand.

  “Mom, I was wondering, if you and Bass would maybe consider Stella for a position at de la Porte. I mean, when she becomes available?”

  “What are her future plans?” Bass asks.

  “To bury her father,” I whisper.

  “I think he means after that, Natasha.” Mom wraps her arm around my shoulder and pulls me into a hug.

  “Do you remember my senior year when they all came to de la Porte?” I ask, pulling my knees up and letting the pad rest on them as I snuggle against her and begin to draw another male figure who doesn’t look suspiciously like Oliver.

  “Yes, it was a day I wish could be forgotten.”

  “And I’m so glad it happened.” I look up at her shocked expression. “It made me stronger and it also showed me who my friends truly are. They stood with me when they could have easily joined the rest of them, or simply looked the other way. They never did. I can’t do that with them either. Ever.”

  “We’ll give her whatever job she wants,” Bass says hurriedly, sighs, then adds, “When she’s ready.”

  When Mom and Bass are in bed, I walk into the bathroom and call Oliver.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey,” I whisper.

  “Hey,” he sighs.

  “So, they signed the papers.” I can’t help but smile.

  “I know, that’s great news.” He sounds a little dejected.

  “You should have been there. At least to see it in person.”

  “I flew into London to check it out before coming here.”

  “Wait, what? Where are you?”

  “With Maisie.”

  “So, you were in London and didn’t think to call me?”

  When he doesn’t answer, I know I shouldn’t have asked.

  “I mean, of course you didn’t have to but,” I pause and he still doesn’t say anything. “Anyway, it’s perfect.”

  “I thought so as well,” he yawns.

  “Well, I was calling to tell you that when the opportunity came up, I told Mom I got drunk.”

  “I thought–”

  “I told her I puked on you.”

  “Jesus,” he huffs.

  “She knows about Celine and I told her about Ines. There was no, um, awkwardness.”

  Except for this conversation, I think.

  “So, she knows I brought you to my hotel room, partially undressed you, and you stayed the night?”

  “Um, noooo,” I whisper as my face feels like it’s beginning to burn.

  “Why not? You already told her I was there,” he huffs.

  “Because that’s,” I pause. “Are you mad?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then why are you being short with me? You’re the one who suggested–”

  “When will you tell her I’m playing boyfriend because her friend decided to put me in the middle of that, too?”

  He’s mad, which makes me a bit angry as well. “I was thinking maybe the day after… never. Look, I get that you’re upset, but I had the opportunity and I took it.”

  “It’s fine, Natasha.”

  “Then why are you being short with me?”

  “I have a lot going on.”

  “You get grumpy when you’re tired. When’s the last time you slept?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he sighs.

  “I know you slept Sunday night, because you snore.”

  “Like hell I do. And you wouldn’t know if I did, you were so fucked you drooled all over my…” He stops before saying chest and I laugh.

  He sighs, “Is that all?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Have fun in New York.”

  “Tell Maisie I’m sorry I couldn’t come this weekend?”

  “I will,” he whispers.

  Again silence. This time he breaks it, “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, I’m offended you were in London and didn’t, at the very least, text.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because before playing the role of fake boyfriend, and before I embraced the part and proved I could give an Emmy winning performance of needy fake girlfriend, you were my friend.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Oliver

  Sitting next to Maisie in the car at the air field, we watch the plane land.

  “That’s not the plane we flew in on.” She leans closer to the window.

  “Nope, Bass and Angela traded two in for one.”

  She squeezes my hand. “Smart business move.”

  I hate that she’s diminishing in front of our eyes, that she’s forgetting conversations we’ve had before. Conversations like this one, that we had, this morning.

  “So, Natasha’s going to see her friends in the city?” I nod and am glad she can keep our names and whereabouts straight. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure, Maisie.” I get out and walk around to the back of the SUV to grab her wheelchair.

  When I wheel it around, she’s already opened the door and is about to step out. “Maisie, hold up.”

  Once she’s in the chair, I pull the blanket out of the car and set it on her lap. “It’s cold out, Maisie. Let’s keep you warm, shall we?”

  “At my age, a blanket keeps you warm. At your age, it should be someone you love. When are we going to work on that, Oliver?”

  “How about the day after never?” She laughs out loud and I realize I just used Natasha’s words from last night. “Bass and Angela seem to be doing well, huh?”

  “They’re deeply in love.”

  “I can’t wait to see it happen to you.”

  “Was in love with my country, Maisie, still am.”

  Thankfully, she’s happy watching the plane land and lets the conversation fade away.

  The plane comes to a stop and a fuel truck heads towards us to fuel it up for the trip overseas.

  I hate that she’ll be there alone, almost as much as I hate that I can’t order Celine to go, because now Angela and Bass know, and apparently, they feel she’s safe there.

  I’m not to fucking convinced, but I also know because of all the time I have spent with her, I’m not thinking rationally either. She thinks she’d get an Emmy for fake jealous girlfriend,
I’d take home the Oscar for jealous fake boyfriend, if she only fucking knew.

  When the doors open, I see Bass coming out first, when he leans back in, I see Natasha walk out and quickly down the stairs.

  “There she is, the next Schiaparelli.” Maisie clasps her hands over her heart.

  “Who?” I ask, forcing myself to look away from Natasha.

  “Schiaparelli,” Maisie repeats and smiles as Natasha bends down and hugs her.

  “Again, who is that?”

  “Coco Chanel’s biggest rival. An Italian designer.” Natasha smiles as she closes her eyes and hugs Maisie. “World War Two, both lost their fashion houses. Schiaparelli closed up shop and moved back to Italy and continued. Coco, well, she had to hide out because of her ties to the Nazi régime.

  Holding Maisie’s hand, Natasha stands to her full five foot five and looks at me. “Hi.”

  I pull my aviators down, because I know damn well I can’t not eye fuck her and then nod, “Hey.”

  They all chat for what seems like seconds before Natasha boards the plane to go see her friends.

  After putting Maisie’s wheelchair back in the SUV, I shoot her a text.

  -Safe travels and be safe, Natasha.

  Her response is immediate.

  -Thank you, my friend, for bringing her today.

  She texted me when she landed, at the same time that she texted her mother. I knew this because we were sitting across the dinner table from one another when Angela told Bass and Maisie, she had made it safely, and Autumn was picking her up.

  Fucking Autumn, she owes me more than she knows.

  Her little attempt at saving Natasha from embarrassment gave my attempt at avoiding her a fucking excuse to do the opposite.

  Half of me wants to curse her out while the other half wants to high five her. And there’s me again, riding the line.

  Long after Maisie has fallen asleep, I’m sitting next to her bed, holding her hand as if it’s an anchor to sanity and praying, yes, praying, she has enough time left to welcome Bass’s child into this world.

  I’m exhausted, haven’t slept more than two hours a night since the flight back to the US, after leaving Natasha.