Retail Therapy

by Roz Bailey

  After we rode the subway downtown—I know, pee-yew, but it’s one of Marcella’s rules—Alana took me around to half a dozen places where she knew the vendors well enough to negotiate. We found a few possibilities but settled on a fabulous Dior—a bright red, off-the-shoulder gown that needed just a tiny bit of alteration in the waist. For Alana, we went with a Prada, a layered chiffon in various shades of brown from chocolate to russet to terra-cotta. Hers needed to be taken up, but Alana was up to the task, and the price was right. After Alana bartered with the vendor, the two gowns cost us less than five hundred dollars. Of course, we’d had to endure trying things on in tiny closets in the back of the shops, but it’s all a trade-off.

  On the subway ride home, I realized how much the tenor of our shopping trips had changed. And there was something else: Alana had changed. She was distant, a little too thoughtful.

  “Are you OK?” I asked.

  She frowned. “My head is all tied up in my work. And in Xavier.”

  “Uh-oh.” I shook my head. “Men are always trouble, aren’t they?”

  “That’s for damn sure. And I’m crazy about him. Can’t stop thinking about him, though I’m hoping it’s just a phase. That’s possible, right?”

  “If you feel that way, why do you keep pushing him away?” I asked. “Why not tell him exactly how you feel? I think he’s got a thing for you, too.”

  “Nah.” She waved me off. “It would never work.”

  “Why, Alana Marshall-Hughs, I think I’ve finally found something you’re afraid of. You’re afraid of falling in love.”

  She bumped into my shoulder as our train skidded to a stop. “That’s a crock. I’m just overwhelmed with work right now. My perspective is all warped.”

  I just smiled. We both knew she was lying through her teeth.

  51

  Alana

  Two more darts on Bear’s jacket. Heath needed to have the sleeves taken up, and I was almost finished pressing Robert’s.

  I was down to the wire, with Vanity Fair coming to LA Minute tomorrow afternoon, but things were under control. I could spend the rest of today altering Heath’s sleeves and fixing up my gown for tonight’s awards ceremony. Then, I’d have tomorrow morning to work on Bear’s jacket, shower, and run these last jackets over to the restaurant. Piece of cake.

  Just then there was the sound of a key in the door. “Hailey?” It was early for her to be home, but then with the awards ceremony, maybe they’d given her some time off.

  “We have a slight problem,” she said, staggering in the door, a sling strung over her purple silk blouse.

  “Oh, my God, what happened to you? Sit down, honey.”

  “I’m OK. It was a really stupid accident on the set. I stood up into the open drawer of a file cabinet.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t ask. Everyone was all apologetic about it, but it was my own stupid fault. And now, my shoulder is all black and blue, just when I’m ready to slip into a shoulderless gown.”

  “That’s right! Oh, you poor thing!”

  “The doctor said I can forgo the sling tonight, but I need to keep the tape on.” She shook her head. “I feel so stupid. And if I don’t show at the ceremony, people will think I’m an ungrateful snob.”

  “You have to go. You must! We’ll find something else for you to wear. There’s got to be a gown with shoulder coverage in one of our closets, and if it doesn’t fit properly I’ll alter it right now.” I got up from the sewing machine and marched Hailey into my room. “Come on, Cinderella. Time to whip up a gown.”

  Going through our closets, I was amazed at how many formal gowns revealed shoulder. All of my Veras, Oscars, Valentinos ... such a waste!

  A gold brocade Dolce & Gabbana jacket covered everything, but it was just too hot and heavy for August. But other than moving a beaded jacket onto another gown, we were running out of choices.

  “Wait a second.” I pulled out a Dior Homme skinny-legged tuxedo in a shimmering black fabric. “Remember when Nicole Kidman kept appearing around town in this? It’s very chic.”

  “But still, so hot.”

  “So ... leave off the blouse. We’ll stitch it closed. That way, you can show a little cleavage, wear a stunning jeweled necklace that will sparkle on camera.”

  “And the man-style tux pokes a little fun at the bad-girl image.” Gingerly, Hailey slid one arm into the jacket. “Let’s see how it looks.”

  The seat of the pants needed a few tucks, as I had it let out for my buxom butt. “I’ll take it in a little in the back, and you’ll look killer cool.”

  “Thank you!” She gave me a one-armed hug, then slid off the jacket. “You’re a lifesaver. I need to lie down now, before I pass out. I think those painkillers are kicking in.”

  “You rest! I’ll wake you up in time to get ready,” I said over the straight pins in my mouth.

  I got to work, quickly realizing that the delicate fabric of the Dior pants would not survive my old sewing machine; every stitch would have to be sewn by hand. Working like a fiend, I sewed through the afternoon. By three o’clock, I was only halfway finished, and it occurred to me that there would be no time to alter my gown for tonight. I called Rory on his cell and arranged for him to play Hailey’s escort.

  Hours later, while Hailey finished her makeup, I smoothed out the last tuck. As she slipped on the pants and straightened out the jacket, I felt tears sting my eyes. She had endured so much this summer: her battles with Deanna, her heartbreak over Antonio, her public image, and her career struggles. But somehow, seeing her all sparkly and ready to accept a prominent award, it seemed that all those obstacles were part of the course to prepare her for this moment.

  “You look so beautiful,” I said, as if this were the payoff for my weeks bent over the sewing machine.

  “Well, thank you, honey.” And that was the moment she realized I wasn’t dressed. “You’re still in your sweats! Chop, chop! We don’t want to be late.”

  “I called Rory. He’s going to be your escort.”

  “Oh, no! You have to come! You deserve part of this award for yourself!”

  “There’s no time,” I said, quickly trying to usher her down to the waiting limo. “I’ve got some more work to do for LA Minute. I’m exhausted and, stupid of me, but I forgot to do those alterations on my gown.”

  “Because of me!” Hailey’s voice cracked as we stepped into the elevator. “You’re always on top of that stuff, but you dropped everything to sew for me today.”

  “Honey, it’s what I do,” I said in a stern voice. “Listen, I’ve been stuck inside the apartment so long that those bright camera lights would probably blind me right now.” The limo sparkled in the late-afternoon sun outside the Manchester lobby. As we approached the door, Rory climbed out, looking dapper in a navy tux.

  “Hailey!” He waved. “They have cosmos and Caribbean martinis in here. What’s your pleasure?”

  She turned back to me. “I’m sorry for treating you like Cinderella.”

  “You’ll have time to make it up to me. Now go and have a good time. A great time.” I stepped into the sunshine and watched Hailey duck into the limo.

  “Now I know it’s difficult, Rory, but don’t tie one on until after the ceremony.”

  “Right.” He clapped his hands together. “Teetotal now, drink heavily later.”

  “And take good care of Hailey. Her shoulder looks nasty.”

  “Got it!” With a smile for the driver, he ducked into the limo.

  I stood back to watch them pull away. That was when I saw him, watching me from across the street. He didn’t wave or smile or anything, just waited until the traffic cleared, then crossed over.

  “We need to talk,” he said. “Where’ve you been? I’ve been calling you.”

  “I know.” I couldn’t admit that I’d been saving his messages and listening to them when I felt lonely. It was a wimpy thing to do.

  “Can I come up?”

  “Sure,” I said, trying
to think of how to play this. Xavier knew me too well for me to lie. If I was going to deny my feelings for him, I needed some kind of diversion—a ruse to distract him, throw him off.

  Once we got upstairs, he noticed the mess of fabric and scissors on my dining room table. “What, you running a sweatshop here?”

  “It’s my new job.” I scraped the little wisps of hair off my forehead. “I’m making uniforms for the male staff at LA Minute, and actually, I’ve got a night of sewing ahead because it’s all due tomorrow, so how about if we talk some other time?”

  He straddled a dining room chair and loosened his tie. “Uh-uh. It’s taken me this long to get through to you and I’m not going away now. You work. I’ll watch.”

  “Come off it! You think I’m going to sit here sewing with you in my grill?”

  “Well, you’d better get used to it, ’cause that’s how it’s going to be. I’m not giving up on you, Alana.”

  I felt the saltiness of tears forming in my throat, and I went to the window and looked out at the August haze of dying light. I wasn’t in love with Xavier. This heightened emotional state was all about me being stuck in here for two weeks and sewing my heart out and sending my best friend off to the ball in a dress made out of rags like Cinderella. These tears had nothing to do with the man behind me... .

  “When you gonna stop running, Alana?”

  “I’m not running.” I turned to face him. “But I’ve changed, Xavier. I’ve learned a lot about my limitations, my center of strength, my scope of control. And I don’t think you can fit in there. We make each other crazy!”

  “Good crazy, girl.”

  “I’ve worked so hard to get where I am now. I just can’t give up that control.”

  He leaned on the chair and took a deep breath, obviously disappointed. “Tell me about the changes.”

  “Well, first, I don’t want to rely on any man. I just learned a valuable lesson from my father, and I’m not going to toss it aside just because some hotshot comedian comes along throwing money on the bar. I’m earning my keep, and liking it.”

  “Ouch. But I hear you. Nobody’s taking your independence away from you.”

  “And I’m not giving up my life here, my friends and family, to go out west and pursue someone else’s dream.”

  “Yeah, I sort of got that message loud and clear. You drive a hard bargain, but I’ve made some changes of my own. I think I talked the cable network into letting me tape my show out here.”

  “Oh.” That seemed to change a lot of things. “You did that for me?”

  “For us.”

  I winced. “There is no us.”

  “Oh, yes there is. If you recognize that there are certain things in this world that we can’t control. Sometimes somebody throws you a line, and you just got to catch it and hold on tight and enjoy the ride.”

  Dammit, I knew he was right.

  I turned to him, those high, brown cheeks, dazzling white teeth. I put my finger in the dimple on his chin.

  He scrunched up his face and pushed my hand away. “Can’t stand that.”

  “Women love dimples.”

  “Yeah, all your aunts and your mother got their fingers all over my chin like I’m eight years old.”

  I laughed and put my finger back on it. “Like this?”

  He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his lap. “You trying to drive me crazy, girl?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Well, it’s working.” He pressed his lips against mine in a soft kiss. I threw my arms around his neck and we both groaned and the pressure of his lips became more demanding.

  I wanted him in the worst way, wanted him forever, and I knew that it was one of those things neither of us could fight anymore. We were meant to be together, raised together, fighting together, loving together. Sometimes those things just happen and people click, and pity the moron who doesn’t figure out how to stop trying to stop the spinning wheel of destiny.

  That night, we ordered Chinese, but I have to admit none of the food got eaten until it was cold. And you know what? For once, I really didn’t care.

  Part Six

  DON’T MISS THESE

  LABOR DAY SAVINGS!

  52

  Hailey

  “Can you give your fans an overview of how your life has changed in the past few months?” Zoe Lemonda asked, holding a mike out to me.

  We were on the set of Days of Heartbreak, and Zoe was doing her first on-camera interview for Soap Opera Diaries—In Person. The publication had decided to go multimedia and run a weekly show on a cable station, and Zoe had picked me to be the first featured interview.

  “Let’s see ...” I smiled. “I have more money for shopping sprees, and no time to spend it. I spend most of my days and nights here on the set.”

  “All work and no play?”

  “Oh, there’s plenty of time to play, especially when you’re surrounded by friends. It’s just that we do it here in the studio and we get paid for it.”

  “And you’ve become a star in that time! How does that feel?”

  “Wonderful! Exciting! Spectacular. Although my friend Alana says there are no stars, just huge balls of burning gases. Took me more than two years in the industry to realize she’s right.”

  “You wouldn’t be referring to Deanna Childs, would you?”

  “Did someone mention the Queen of Mean? I just have to say, I owe her a lot. If she hadn’t falsely accused me of a crime, I would still be stuck on that show playing a fish-face. I mean a mermaid. Thanks, Deanna.”

  “And not to get personal, but how about your love life? Any truth to the rumor that you might be getting back together with Antonio Lopez?”

  I shook my head. “Antonio and I ... had a very special relationship,” I said, trying to restrain myself from pointing out on camera that he was a lying, cheating pig. “But that’s over now. And to be honest, I can’t believe I was involved with an actor.” I turned and looked right into the camera. “Girls, it’s a mistake! Actors are crazy! Stay away from them!”

  Zoe laughed. “Any new romances in the works?”

  “How could I have time for that?” I teased. “I’m here twenty-four hours a day.” But as I spoke, my gaze went beyond Zoe to the director, Sean Ryder, who had been hired over from Tomorrows. When Dante offered Sean a chance to direct, something he’d been working toward for years, Sean quit Tomorrows and never looked back.

  And last week, we’d finally gone for that cup of coffee. Unassuming, articulate Sean ... I enjoyed spending my days and nights with him when he was directing.

  “One last question: what do you see in your future?” Zoe asked.

  Watching Sean page through a script with a cameraman, I took a deep breath. “Possibilities,” I said. “Some great possibilities.”

  53

  Alana

  “A lana, my dear, do you have Rory’s shirt for the dream sequence?” Eden Barrio, the wardrobe director, peeked her head into the back room and smiled. “Not that it’s a rush, but he’s standing here half-naked.”

  “I’m just steaming it out now,” I said, holding the steamer over a stubborn wrinkle near the collar.

  “Truly, I don’t mind doing the scene half-naked,” Rory said, stepping into the sewing room where we repaired, altered, and prepped clothes for the actors. “It is a dream sequence, and as we all know many elements in our dreams don’t make sense. Not to mention the fact that I always get more fan response when I go bare-chested.”

  “Wear the shirt,” Eden called. “Our demographics are a little different from Tomorrows. Sometimes families watch.”

  “Oh, well.” Rory smiled at me. “Worth a try. And truly, Eden has much better taste in clothing than that witch I left in the dust. If I had to wear one more golf shirt, I was going to scream. I think the country club look put ten years on me.”

  “You survived it well,” I said.

  “And look at you, slaving away, doing the drudge work. I don’t know why you ever agreed
to submit to such chaos.”

  “I love this job,” I said. “The one drawback is pain-in-the-ass actors who want to appear on camera half-naked.” I handed him the shirt.

  “Doll, if I’m your worst problem, you’d better count your blessings.”

  I’d been doing a lot of that lately, grateful for my job as wardrobe assistant on Days of Heartbreak, grateful for my chance to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology, grateful for the special person in my life, the only one with the unique ability to please and torture me at the same time. Xavier had pushed our relationship on, and for once I was glad to be pushed. He’d managed to convince the cable network to let him shoot his show on the East Coast, and in the process, he’d hired on a new producer, his trusted friend Trevor. Since Trev took the job, he’d been working long hours, wheeling and dealing, but it was all good this time. He’d found a niche, and hell, I could relate.

  Oh, and speaking of being grateful? There was one more biggy for me: peace with the parents.

  I had appeared at a family council to plead my case, but this time, I’d come prepared with a plan, which included a financial statement and graphs that Marcella had helped me prepare.

  “My spending is under control now,” I said. “Pages three and four detail my monthly budget. The essentials like food and household items. With the money I’ll be making on Heartbreak, I should have my credit-card debt paid off by February, when I plan to start making my own co-op payment. There’s just one glitch.”

  Daddy had stared at me over his reading glasses.

  “I need to ask you for a loan. Just a loan. I’ve enrolled at FIT. The Fashion Institute of Technology, in their design program. Marcella says I can work my schedule at Heartbreak around my classes, so I’ll still be making money.”

  “FIT.” Daddy let my proposal sail onto the table. “An appropriate name.”

  “Now Ernest,” Mama warned him, “have some respect for Alana’s goals. She’s found something that will make her happy—right, dear?”