On her way to the elevator, she looked around the office and saw Dash was sitting at his drafting table, wielding his pencil. Whatever he was working on, she didn’t want to interrupt his flow, so she kept stepping without disturbing him. If he had known she was on her way to see Sebastian, Lark was sure Dash would want to come with her. She didn’t need his help this time. Lark had no problem having a face-to-face confrontation with Sebastian.
Outside, Lark hailed a taxi and headed downtown. On the way there, she ran different scenarios through her mind. Would she and Sebastian get into a screaming match like they had the last time they were together? Or would they have a civil exchange, wherein she could ask him why he had tried to sabotage a company he had once been so dedicated to? She reasoned he had acted out of anger from being fired without notice. Lark wanted to speak her mind and make peace with Sebastian. She thought that since some time had gone by, they could come to a mutual admiration for each other. After all, they had worked closely together. Since they were in the same industry, they were bound to run into each other. Lark didn’t want any bad blood with him.
The driver stopped in front of a warehouselike building on Reade Street. She got out of the taxi, and as she made her way to the front door, Lark’s heart began beating a bit faster. Maybe I should have asked Dash to come along, she thought, second-guessing her decision to go alone. Lark took a deep breath to calm herself and found Sebastian’s name and unit number on the bell panel near the door, pushed the button and waited for him to respond. She heard a buzzing sound on the other end of the intercom. She pushed open the door and went inside.
The small, plain hallway was free of any frills. It had an old gated elevator and an antique staircase to the right. Lark knew from past experience the elevator could be temperamental. She weighed her options. Should I take the elevator and chance getting stuck or walk up three flights of steps? She decided on the latter.
When she reached his floor, she was out of breath. I really need to get back to the gym. Lark walked down the long corridor with her heels clicking on the wood plank floor. Sebastian’s door was ajar, but she knocked anyway.
“Come on in!” he shouted.
Lark took a deep breath and stepped inside. She looked around, expecting to see Sebastian in all of his flamboyant glory, but he was nowhere in sight. There were Andy Warhol prints of Marilyn Monroe and Liz Taylor on the whitewashed brick walls. Sebastian had bragged during one of his infamous cocktail parties that he and Andy had danced together at Studio 54 back during the disco days. And that Andy had personally given him the signed prints, which were some of his most prized possessions.
A group of nude female mannequins were standing around waiting to be clothed. Lark noticed new additions to his loft: a sewing area with six industrial machines, a six-foot-long drafting table and bolts of fabric. Obviously Sebastian was producing garments out of his residence, which she found interesting.
“You’re early, Iman. I’ll be right out,” he said with a lilt to his voice.
Oh, he thinks I’m that blogger. Lark didn’t respond. She wanted to surprise him like he had surprised her with the markdowns. She moseyed around the space, trying to see signs of what Sebastian was working on, but there was nothing in sight, no spools of thread on the machines or remnants of material on the floor.
“Okay, it’s showtime!” Sebastian announced loudly from the back.
Lark turned toward the sound of his voice and waited for him to appear. He did not. Instead, a string of models strutted through a doorway draped in black velvet, wearing long, billowy dresses, jumpsuits with wide legs and pencil-leg slack pantsuits. Lark felt weak in the knees as she watched the mini fashion show unfold.
The models paraded around the loft and then struck poses in the middle of the floor. Shortly thereafter, Sebastian entered wearing a male version of one of the jumpsuits.
“So, Ms. Scott, how do you like—” He stopped midsentence when he saw Lark. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“No. The question is, where the hell did you get my designs from?” Lark approached one of the models and inspected the garment she was wearing. “That jumpsuit is exactly like the one I have on, except the fabric is different!”
“So what?” he snapped.
“It’s from the new collection. A collection that hasn’t even gone into production yet. I’m wearing the only sample piece.” As Lark spoke, her mind flashed back to the computer breach at the company that had caused all of their files to be wiped out. “You...you broke into our system and stole the designs!”
Sebastian casually rolled his eyes. He looked at his manicured nails and said, “Prove it!”
Lark was fuming mad. She was tempted to pick up one of his large coffee-table books and throw it at him, but she maintained her composure. She didn’t need any witnesses to an assault. The models were cutting their eyes from her to Sebastian. Lark exhaled and measured her words.
“First you authorized markdown money to be deducted without telling me, knowing full well I was counting on that check. Before you left RR, we had discussed what a nice order Pat Taylor had placed. And then you stole the designs for the new collection, knowing I wouldn’t have enough time to produce another line before fashion week.”
“Not my problem,” he simply said.
“Why are you being so vindictive? We used to have a good working relationship. What happened?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“You thought you could just fire me and...poof—” he snapped his fingers “—I’d be gone! Well, you’re wrong! Randolph on the Runway is nothing without me. Oh, and by the way, I helped to create most of the pieces in the collection, so basically I was just taking what is rightfully mine.”
“It’s called stealing, Sebastian! Those designs were company property!”
He went over to a model and adjusted her belt. “Well, they’re my property now. So deal with it.”
“Hello?”
Lark turned toward the door and saw an attractive young woman who was stylishly dressed come through the door.
“Hey there, Iman. You’re right on time.” He glared at Lark. “Come on in.” Sebastian walked right past Lark as if she weren’t there and greeted the blogger with a kiss on each cheek.
“Oh my God, I love this jumpsuit!” Iman said, making a beeline straight to the model.
“Isn’t it to die for?” Sebastian chimed in.
“Yes, it is. I love the asymmetrical neckline.”
Lark stood there in disbelief as she watched the blogger fawn all over the design Sebastian had stolen. Lark was about to speak up and reveal the truth, but the blogger took out her cell phone and started snapping pictures of each piece.
“I’m uploading these pics to my blog right now. I have a ton of followers and the buzz will be on the street within minutes. Sebastian, you’re a genius!” The blogger then turned to Lark and said, “I see you’re already wearing his jumpsuit. It looks fab on you. Mind if I take your picture?”
“Please don’t.” Lark put her hand in front of the phone. “These aren’t his designs. They belong...”
“Excuse me?” the blogger asked.
“Iman, let me show you this piece,” Sebastian said, cutting Lark off and walking over to one of the models. “What do you think?”
“Love, love, love it! This pantsuit is so retro,” she said, snapping a picture.
Lark turned around and walked out the door. Trying to explain to the blogger that Sebastian had stolen RR’s designs was useless. She felt sick to her stomach. All of the hard work she and her team had done re-inputting the designs was for nothing. There was no way her company could go into production with the same designs Sebastian was using. RR would be the laughingstock of the industry. She had to face the cold hard facts... Randolph on the Runway was through.
Chapter 24
&n
bsp; Lark was so despondent that she couldn’t bring herself to go back to work. Sebastian had stolen the company’s designs. Now Randolph on the Runway was without a collection for the spring/summer shows. With sales plummeting faster than the temperature during the polar vortex, she was counting on the new collection to reinvigorate the company. If it weren’t for social media, Lark would probably have filed an injunction against Sebastian and stopped him from showing the line, but now that was moot. Pictures had been taken of his clothes and been spread all over the internet. Lark knew if she made a claim against Sebastian, it would be his word against hers. He had made a smart move by presenting his collection to the blogger and getting instant exposure. Lark had completely underestimated Sebastian. She knew he was upset about being fired, but she hadn’t thought he would lash out in such a vindictive and evil way.
Lark walked slowly in a daze along West Broadway, as people whizzed past her on the sidewalk. She didn’t have a destination in mind, so she moseyed aimlessly until she came upon a coffee shop. Lark went inside and found an empty table.
“Good afternoon, miss. What can I get for you?” the waitress asked.
“I’ll have a cup of coffee.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes.”
As she sat there and gazed out of the window, she couldn’t help but think of Sebastian passing off RR’s spring/summer collection as his own. The more she thought about it, the madder she became. Lark needed to talk to someone. She didn’t want to go crying on Dash’s shoulder. He had already bailed her out once. There was only one person she felt comfortable confiding in, and that was Darcy. She took the phone out of her purse and dialed her friend.
“Hi, Darcy. Are you busy?” Lark asked in a barely audible voice.
“Just returning some emails. What’s wrong? You sound upset.”
“Are you at home?”
“Yes. Are you okay?”
“Not really. Can I come over? I don’t want to talk about this over the phone.”
“Of course. Come right over.”
“I’m on my way.”
Lark didn’t wait for the waitress to bring the coffee. She put a few dollars on the table and left.
Traffic was bumper-to-bumper on West Broadway, so Lark walked to the West Village, where Darcy owned a three-storied Victorian brownstone. The time she spent walking helped to calm her down. She no longer felt like crying, regurgitating or committing murder. Her head was clearer. Hopefully between her and Darcy, they could come up with a viable solution to her problem. Sebastian had committed the ultimate betrayal. Stealing RR’s entire collection had not only been unethical, but it had also been a criminal act, and she was going to find some way to make him pay.
Lark stood on Darcy’s stoop and rang her bell. She could see Darcy coming toward her through the wood-and-beveled-glass doors.
“Come on in. I made a pitcher of Manhattans. I could tell by your tone you probably could use a drink.”
Darcy had introduced Lark to the old-fashioned drink years before. She had told Lark that since she was a working woman, it was time to give up the kiddie cocktails and drink like big girl.
“I sure could.” Lark followed Darcy through the double doors into the front parlor, which was furnished with antiques and oil paintings. She took a seat on a burgundy crushed-velvet sofa and watched as Darcy shook the silver shaker and poured two martini glasses full of the liquor.
“Here you go,” Darcy said, handing her the glass. “To what ails you.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Lark drank half of her cocktail in one gulp.
“So tell me. What’s going on?” Darcy asked, refilling Lark’s glass.
Lark exhaled hard. “Where should I start? When Dash and I were in Italy, there was a computer breach at the company and all of the designs for the new collection were wiped out. Luckily, we had hard copies and were able to reinsert the designs.”
“Thank goodness for the old-school ways.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I thought. But inputting the designs proved to be a monumental waste of time.”
“Why? You guys didn’t get them in before the production deadline?”
“We met the deadline by working nearly day and night.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Darcy asked, taking a sip of her cocktail.
“I read on Iman M’s blog that Sebastian was previewing his line today, so I went by his loft to surprise him. But I’m the one who got the surprise of my life!”
“What happened?”
“Sebastian hacked into RR’s system and stole the designs for the new collection,” Lark said, shaking her head in disgust.
“Are you sure he stole your designs?”
“I’m positive. He had a mini fashion show at his loft with the pieces from RR’s spring/summer collection.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“I wish I were. I should have suspected that he was the one who hacked into the system. It didn’t even cross my mind that Sebastian could be that tech savvy. When he was with the company, he was always complaining about having to use the CAD system. He was old-school and hated computers. Anyway, the blogger took pictures of the line and uploaded them to the internet, so basically—”
“You have to scrap your entire spring/summer collection,” Darcy said.
“Yep!”
“What a lowlife! I’m shocked Sebastian would go to such extreme measures to get back at you. He’s talented in his own right. He didn’t have to steal from you.”
“In essence, he told me that since he cocreated the line, he was entitled to the collection. I’m still having a hard time processing all of this.” Lark finished her drink and poured another. “And that’s not all he’s done.”
“Don’t tell me there’s more.”
“On his last day, he authorized markdown money to be deducted from a payment I was expecting without telling me.”
“Oh, no, he didn’t!” Darcy looked shocked. “How much was deducted?”
“Seventy grand.”
“That’s substantial. I hate when buyers deduct markdown money. That happened to me once before and I could barely make payroll. I’m sure you had that money earmarked.”
“I certainly did. If it weren’t for Dash, the company would be seriously in the red.”
“Why? What did he do?”
“He wrote out a check for one hundred thousand and gave it to me as if it were no big deal.”
“You’re kidding. He has that type of money? I thought you said he was a young designer. I assumed he was struggling like the majority of us did during the lean years of our early career.”
“Dash’s family has billions. He’s a trust-fund baby with tons of his own money in the bank. He’s a generous soul who gives to charities. You’d think with all of that money, he’d be a pompous jerk, but he’s down-to-earth and isn’t arrogant in the least. He’s really special.”
“Wow! I had no idea he had that type of wealth. Have you told him about Sebastian stealing the collection?”
“No.”
“Why not? From what you’re telling me, I’m sure he’d be more than willing to help.”
“What can he do? It’s too late to design another collection with fashion week close at hand,” Lark said, sounding totally defeated.
“I have a plan that just might work. Call Dash and have him meet us over here.”
“I don’t know, Darcy...”
“Do you want Sebastian to win?”
With the mere mention of that traitor’s name, Lark perked up. “Hell, no!” She took out her phone and dialed Dash’s number.
“Hey, babe, where are you?” Dash asked. “We’re all waiting for you to start the production meeting.”
“Give everyone my apologies and po
stpone the meeting. I’m at Darcy’s place. I need you to come over here as soon as possible.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Not really. I’ll explain when you get here.” She gave him the address and ended the call.
While they waited for Dash to arrive, Lark and Darcy went into the kitchen and Darcy whipped together chicken pesto pasta and a salad. She also put on a pot of coffee, saying they would probably be working late into the night. Lark sat at the yellow Formica kitchen table, gazing out of the window while Darcy cooked.
“I need to apologize to you,” Darcy said, tossing the penne and sauce together.
“For what?”
“When we were at Balthazar, I gave you a hard time regarding Dash. To be honest, I thought you had made a huge mistake by getting involved with one of your employees. I didn’t want him to take advantage of you. But from the sound of it, Dash has been a lifesaver. I can’t wait to meet him.”
Lark went over to the stove, where Darcy stood, and gave her a hug. “Thanks for being so candid. Between you and Dash, I know whatever idea we come up with to salvage the collection will be a winner.” Lark had a newfound sense of hope. She could see brightness through the gloomy cloud that Sebastian had cast over them.
The bell rang, interrupting their tender moment, and Darcy excused herself to go to the front. A few moments later, Lark could hear Dash and Darcy walking toward the back and chatting like old friends.
“I love the way you redid the crown molding,” Dash said.
“It took me two years to strip the layers of paint off the woodwork. Renovating this place has been a labor of love,” Darcy replied.
“Well, you’ve done a stellar job. Hey, babe,” Dash said, coming over to Lark and planting a kiss on her cheek.
“Listen to you two gabbing away like you’ve known each other for years,” Lark said with a smile on her face. She was glad her two favorite people in the world were hitting it off. She knew Darcy could be hypercritical when it came to men.
“I don’t say this often, but this guy is a keeper. He’s handsome and smart, and I can tell by the way he looks at you that he genuinely cares for you,” Darcy said, as if Dash weren’t standing there.
Season for Love Page 14
