De La Porte Fashion: The Complete Box Set

by Mj Fields

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  “Emilia, this is Angela we’re talking about.” I slide off the bed. “She eats, sleeps, breathes, and probably shits de la Porte. She won’t miss the party.”

  “We’ll be waiting,” she says as she turns and walks out my door.

  I walk in and use the bathroom while waiting for Ang to reply. While peeing, I hit Eric’s snap.

  Stixandstars1: Wishing I never left that bed this morning.

  I reply.

  AutumnsSeason: You’re not alone.

  Stixandstars1: I NEED to see you as soon as you become available.

  AutumnsSeason: I’ll see what I can do.

  After I wash my hands, I walk out into the bedroom and send Angela another text, telling her the natives are getting restless, and I’m beginning to worry about her. Then I walk back into the bathroom and brush my teeth.

  When I return, I still don’t see a message from Angela, When I return, I still don’t see a message from Angela, so I send another one, telling her that I’m now worried.

  I walk out and tell the four of them to go ahead and take the car, that Angela is on her way but said to go ahead. Which is a total fabrication, but I will always have my boss/best friend’s back.

  After I wave them off with a smile, hiding my concern for Angela, I go back to the bedroom to unpack, get dressed for the party and locate her whereabouts on the app.

  As soon as I walk into the bedroom, I see a text from her.

  Angela: I can’t find my hat!

  Autumn: That’s because I have it.

  Angela: I’m on my way.

  Autumn: No hurry. I sent them all on their way in the car.

  Angela: Be there soon.

  Standing on the front steps of the cottage with her large brimmed hat in hand, I see a taxi pull up.

  I hurry to it, realizing we are late, and we...are never late.

  “Sorry about all the texts and sending the car without us. All the nosey nosepieces were in a hurry to get to the party. They all want to meet the new CEO. I’ll pay for the cab.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She shakes her head and takes the hat. “Thank you.”

  “I checked your email this morning. Still nothing from Burns, Cartwright, Fuller, Rosenbloom, or Lowell. What do you think that means?”

  “It means they haven’t heard a thing from Alfred, Jean’s attorney.”

  “Have you?”

  She looks at me and rolls her eyes slightly.

  I laugh. “Right, I would’ve seen the email.”

  “I’m sure we have nothing to worry about, Autumn.

  Let’s just try to enjoy the afternoon.”

  “And then go out and get schnockered tonight.” I nod.

  When she doesn’t reply, I nudge her, and she looks up at me.

  “Oh. My. God.” I gasp then laugh when I see her face turning a million different shades of red.

  “Shh...” she scolds me while glancing up at the cab driver.

  “Hungover my ass,” I whisper then laugh again. “Bent over maybe, but—”

  “Autumn!” she snaps, and then we both laugh.

  “I want to know every detail.”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve never—”

  “Oh God, please don’t tell me Davis and you—”

  “I think I just threw up in my mouth.” She cringes then turns and looks at me. “Are you insane?”

  “Well, I just thought maybe you were missing Natasha—”

  “You are insane. Totally and completely out of your mind.”

  “I apologize. All that headboard banging the other night may have had something to do with it. But enough about me. Tell me all about you!”

  She glances at the driver who is totally eavesdropping then looks back at me. I notice, too. But we’ll never see this man again, and I’m sure he has other things to worry about, like stolen charging cords and such. “Thursday night?” She nods once.

  “Tall, dark, and handsome?”

  She nods again.

  “Hung?”

  She kicks my foot and gives me a none of your business look.

  “Did you exchange numbers?” She shakes her head.

  “What!” I yell, and she scowls. I correct my blurt with a whispered, “What?”

  “No.”

  “That bad?”

  She glances at me and cocks an eyebrow, and I grin. “Well, how will you get in contact?” She looks away.

  “Wait. What did you do Friday night?”

  When she bites the corner of her lip, I gasp.

  “You...You...”

  Her face scrunches up in a huge smile. “Friday night, too?”

  “Yep,” she whispers.

  “But you didn’t exchange...” I pause when realization hits. “You spent the night together?”

  Fighting another huge grin, she nods. “Both nights?”

  She nods again.

  “And, when will you see him again?” Her excitement escalates mine.

  “When is this party over?”

  I fight the urge to dive across the seat and hug her. She’s been alone way too long. Then I give up, throw my arms around her, and hug her tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Getting out of the car, Angela looks at me. “I know I don’t have to remind you that this is a—”

  “Professional event.”

  She smiles and nods. “And as much fun as we’ve had these past couple days—”

  “We’re not to walk through the back gate smiling like two overworked, undersexed women whose minds have been blown for two days straight?”

  She puts her sunglasses on to hide her glowing eyes.

  “And as much as I want to tear those glasses off you, take a picture, and send it to Natasha, so she sees you’re making good on your promise to live while she’s gone—”

  “You’d better rethink that.”

  “I know, you’re my boss and that would probably be a career killer?”

  “We’re two single women who need to stay focused. Today could be a game changer.”

  I know she’s worried about her position as the leader of de la Porte fashion US division, but the truth is that it would be nothing without her. I wish she would realize that.

  “My loyalty is to you, not the damn board.”

  “To us, Autumn.”

  “To us.”

  As soon as we walk into the back courtyard, the tension is evident. Gone are the days of Jean de la Porte and the family-friendly atmosphere provided by Angela’s extensive planning and preparing. Everyone is worried about the company’s future, including the board members who immediately surround Angela as we step onto the patio.

  Over the past several months, she has acted as a middleman to the normally unreliable board and Jean’s attorney, who doesn’t return their calls or emails.

  As we stand in the middle of them, the board of directors, who each make more money than even Angela does, I know things are going to get ugly.

  I could have faked sick and stayed in bed all day with Eric, but my loyalty to Angela is a given. I have to be here to support her, knowing most of them probably wish to replace her with one of their spoiled little bastards.

  I watch her smile as I knew she would, always classy and professional, and answer the questions coming at her rapid fire.

  “I know that Jean requested a time of mourning and restructure be allotted. I know that he held seventy-one percent of the company’s shares. And I know his last will and testament has to be dealt with in France and the United States. There’s a lot to deal with, and being patient is—”

  “Angela, that’s bullshit, and you know it,” Burns, the oldest of the members, snaps at her.

  “Daddy.” A sweet little girl pulls on his slacks. “Come potato sack with me.”

  “Go find your mother,” he snaps at her.

  My face falls in anticipation of the hurt she must feel. When she looks unaffected, my heart hurts even more for her since this seems to be the
norm.

  He looks back at Angela. “Come on; give us something, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Really, my God, we’ve waited long enough.” Fuller chews at his plump fingers.

  With her professional smile in place, she tells him, “It’s really not within my control.”

  “She’s full of shit,” Cartwright huffs at Lowell.

  God, I hate that man.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. Please excuse me.” She glances at me, and I know we’re walking away.

  I reach over and squeeze her hand. “We need drinks.”

  “We need two.”

  A waiter passing by stops and offers us champagne, and then we both walk away with a glass in each hand.

  Angela nods toward a seating area across the pool.

  “Should we hide over there?”

  “Hells yes.”

  As soon as we sit, away from the ears of the board and no nosey cab driver around to eavesdrop, I begin firing off questions.

  “What’s he look like?”

  “Tall, with dark, wavy hair. Very attractive.” She takes a sip of her drink.

  “What’s he do?”

  She laughs. “I have no clue.”

  “What do you mean you have no clue?”

  “We’re just enjoying each other’s company, Autumn, honestly.”

  “Between the sheets, huh?”

  She nods. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah? That’s all I get?” I grumble and flop back against the cushioned lounge chair. “Another mystery man. I just can’t with you.”

  She takes another drink and smiles. The woman knows how to keep a damn secret, which in every other instance is great, but I want details.

  “So, tell me about the headboard banger.”

  I tell her about the stars, the beach, the amazing sex. I tell her he wants to see me tonight and watch as she assesses me. I know she worries about me after my divorce. Even though I didn’t tell her details, she knew I was devastated, and when I asked her to keep me busy, she did.

  Then I lie and tell her that I sent him to voicemail today. I don’t want her to worry about me. I want her to enjoy herself.

  “You just said it was the most amazing night of your life and you sent him to voicemail?” She shakes her head at me.

  “He needs to work for it, Ang. I’m worth it.”

  She holds my hand. “I know you are, but has he even gotten the chance to yet?”

  She’s throwing back all the advice I’ve given her about dating, things I’ve learned while healing. “Now the student is teaching the teacher.”

  “I spent two and a half days being schooled myself.”

  “I think you’re falling in love.” I laugh.

  “I think I’m being present.”

  We both try to relax, but it’s hard to watch these people fake their way through a function specifically set up for them to enjoy their families and avoid them at every cost.

  “I think we could sneak out and no one would even know.”

  I nod in agreement. “Should we go get drunk?”

  She looks at me. “No. I think you should call the man who has you acting giddy back and enjoy the night, instead of sitting around here and wishing you were.”

  “And the same goes for you?”

  She nods. “Indeed, it does.”

  Before the cab even arrives, I snap Eric.

  AutumnsSeason: You free?

  Chapter Twelve

  Eric

  Shelby, screaming Shelby, has a soft side in the middle of all those rough edges.

  After she shared with me the shit she was going through; I cornered Father. He just puffed out his chest like he always did and tried to act like he would figure it out.

  I called bullshit and told him, “I will figure it out.”

  Yep, I’m caving, but not for him. For my fifteen-year-old sister, who just hit the same wall of realization I hit years ago. I only hope that it isn’t dealt with the way I dealt with it.

  It’s a sick feeling in your stomach when you think about a person, who you suddenly want to protect from falling, falls anyway.

  “I feel like a fraud,” Shelby scoffs as she sits down next to me at one of the tables far away from all the pomp and circumstance that is de la Porte’s annual Labor Day party.

  “Well, at least you don’t look like an Addams,” I joke, although it’s not really a joke. She looked like Wednesday Addams had joined a biker gang, and Daniel didn’t even give her the attention she was seeking.

  “I’d rather look like Wednesday than a freaking picnic tablecloth,” she grumbles.

  I can’t help laughing.

  The five of us are props to his public image. We’re all dressed alike. The girls, Shelby, Daisy, and even Danielle, are wearing blue and white gingham dresses. Matching patterns but different styles. We males, myself, Daniel Jr.

  and baby Donavan, are in navy pants and white shirts.

  “You look like a tool.”

  “Can’t argue with that.”

  “So do they.” She points at Suzy, who is in a white sundress and Father in his white suit and blue shirt.

  I nod. “Picture perfect family.”

  “You realize we’re the only ones whose names don’t begin with a D?” she asks.

  “Never thought much about that.” “How could you not?” she huffs.

  “I was too busy listening to the bickering of wives three and four when wife four named Danielle. Wife three felt it was immature for copying her having named sibling two Daniel.”

  “I liked Becki best,” she says, lying back in the chaise lounge.

  “Are you kidding me? All you did was give her hell and yell at her.”

  She looks at me and rolls her eyes. It makes me laugh.

  “Dad’s right; you’re an idiot.”

  I have no idea why that makes me laugh harder, but it does.

  She looks down and shakes her head. “You know why I yelled all the time?”

  “Same reason you dressed like an Addams when you showed up today.”

  “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she sighs exaggeratedly.

  I hold my hand over my chest. “A compliment?” “Well, all my friends think you are.” “They have good taste.” I wink.

  “Gross.”

  “So, if I’m wrong, tell me why you yelled all the time.”

  I hear giggles right before I’m jumped from behind by Daisy and Daniel Jr.

  I swing Daisy around and tickle her as she laughs out, “She had ear infections, silly.”

  “Yeah, don’t you remember the Frankenstein ears?” Daniel asks while giving me a noogie.

  I give him a look of warning to be nice, which used to be so Shelby wouldn’t scream. Then I look at Shelby. “I must have missed it.”

  “That’s the summer you moved into the pool house.” She narrows her eyes. “And that’s why I liked Becki best. Neither Mom nor Dad could figure it out. Chronic ear infections.”

  Daniel jumps down and yells, “Daisy, come on, potato sack races.”

  As they run off, I look at Shelby. “Sorry I didn’t notice, Shells.”

  “Well, I hope you start noticing again.” “I’ll do the best I can if...” I stop.

  “If what?” She crosses her arms.

  “You help me kick everyone’s asses in the sack race.”

  “Oh, hell no.”

  “And watch your mouth, Shells. A girl as pretty as you shouldn’t sound like a damn biker.”

  “Keeps the boys away.”

  “Well then, fuck it, keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

  After Shells and I jointly decide to each take one of the twins as partners to give the others a chance—girls against boys—we line up to do our duty as Cartwrights at the annual ass kiss picnic. Her name for it, not mine. We end up paired against each other, and Daniel is wound tighter than usual.

  “Let’s beat ’em, Eric.”

  “Or maybe we kick their butts till the finish line then let them w
in.”

  “No way.” He laughs. When I don’t reciprocate, he looks up at me. “Why would you let them win?”

  “Because, Daniel, that’s what gentlemen do.”

  “If he likes a girl, but not our sisters,” he argues.

  I like that he gets that, that he should treat a woman with respect. He certainly didn’t get it from Father. I’m glad Becki married a good man when they were young enough to feel its impact. Just like Shelby, she was always my favorite stepmother as well. She’s also the reason I plan to become a therapist. But I don’t plan to limit myself to private practice. I have bigger plans.

  “When someone needs a win, it’s nice to give them one if you can. Shells needs a win today, little man.” “Fine, whatever,” he huffs.

  “And they don’t know we gave it to them.” He rolls his eyes.

  “Your word.”

  Daniel sighs. “Fiiiinnnne.”

  And I give him a noogie, just like Father used to give me.

  Watching Shelby smile while playing with the rest of

  the Cartwright tribe pleases me because they’re actually getting along for once.

  “Did you drug them?”

  I look over to my father who is now standing beside me.

  Turning back to the bartender, I tell him, “Make it a double.”

  “Make that two, Kipper.” Father smiles at him.

  “Of course, Mr. Cartwright.”

  I watch their exchange and realize how much everyone loves him. He fools people like he fooled me.

  Makes us all idiots.

  Looking at him, I’m filled with disdain.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  “Not sure you’re good for it,” I whisper as I smile at the bartender and take my drink.

  “Thanks, Kipper.” He pulls a wad of Benjamins out of his platinum money clip, lays one on the bar, and pushes it toward Kipper. “Buy some flowers for that new bride of yours on your way home.” He winks.

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Cartwright.”

  When he walks away, Father peels another hundred off the pile and puts it on the bar in front of me. “I’ve got a few pennies left in me, son.”

  “The ultimate player. You’re pretty fucking proud of that, aren’t you?” I ask before slamming back my drink.