Hello (Dressing A Billionaire #1)

by Jamie Lee Scott

  She picked up halfway through the first ring. “Well?”

  “I got the job!” I screamed in her ear. “Hugo told me I got the job.”

  “Damn, you’re good. Let’s go out tonight and celebrate.”

  Visions of champagne and dancing with hot guys swirled in my head. “I have to go shopping first, but let’s meet at the Granvu Lounge around eight.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll tell Orlean. This is so exciting. We’re back together, and we’re all working.” Gwen’s voice made me even happier than I already was.

  “He gave me his Centurion card,” I whispered, as if I had a secret.

  “Welcome to the world of the rich, and richer,” Gwen said, so matter of fact.

  “Do you get paid with Amex Centurion?” I figured she saw the card all the time.

  “I usually don’t see the card. I process over the phone or online. But I’m sure I’ve had a few. You know that card has a $2,500 annual fee?”

  “Guess I won’t be applying for one any time soon.” I sighed.

  “You can’t even apply.You have to be invited. But don’t worry, I won’t be invited, either.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. Gwen’s designs commanded higher and higher prices. Soon she’d be in the same income bracket as the people she sold to.

  My phone beeped. I pulled it from my ear to see who it was. “I’ve gotta go, Hugo’s calling. See you tonight.”

  I disconnected without waiting for a response.

  “Is everything okay?” Hugo asked.

  I frowned. “Fine, why?”

  “You stopped just outside my gate, and you’ve been sitting for a bit.” He said the words, but I couldn’t hear real concern in his voice.

  “I needed to make a quick phone call.” I looked around me to see where he’d hidden the camera. I couldn’t see any.

  “As long as you’re fine. Talk later.” He disconnected.

  I put my phone on the dashboard holder and put my earbud/microphone in my ear. I couldn’t remember if Texas had hands-free laws. But the hands-free habit had been ingrained, and I’d embraced it.

  I’d put everything I had into this shopping trip, and more. I called Orlean for a list of men’s stores in Dallas.

  Six hours later, the delicious brunch had worn off, and I had a Mercedes full of men’s clothes. But I had my purchases in hand.

  I’d been terrified at the first store, when the salesman took the card and made a phone call. I looked around, waiting for the police to arrive. He hung up the phone, then whispered to his manager. I almost left the clothes and ran from the store without Hugo’s card.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, may I see your identification?”

  Well, shit. It sure as hell didn’t say I was Hugo Popovits. I handed him my driver’s license.

  “California?” he said skeptically.

  I nodded, afraid to say anything.

  He handed it back to me. “Okay, I’ll just need your signature here.” He pointed to the line at the bottom of the sales receipt.

  I signed and breathed a sigh of relief.

  After the first store, no one made any phone calls, just asked for signature and identification. Though I’ll admit, my heart raced each time they rang up my purchases.

  I may have gone overboard:

  4 pairs of shoes: Gucci shaded-leather vintage look Oxford shoes - $695, Bugatchi Arezzo wingtips in gray - $330, Tod’s suede penny loafers in blue - $595, and for shits and giggles, ECCO slip-ons - $90 (better than his current choice).

  5 pairs of jeans: two Denham Cross carrot fit - $200 each, three Dsqared2 distressed - $605 each.

  3 shirts: BrunelloCucinelli French collar, white long-sleeved - $432, Paul Smith rabbit-print cotton long-sleeved to replace his graphic tees - $545, Philipp Plein tee “Ice Ice Baby” - $335 (I’d been afraid to purchase more, because he’d probably hang them in the closet and continue to wear the graphic tees).

  2 watches: Apple classic Gold Strike 24 karat - $3,995, and just in case he wasn’t an Apple Watch kind of guy, Hublot Spirit of Big Bang Chronograph 601.i.0110.rx watch - $22,495 (these were the people who called someone and commiserated before asking for I.D.)

  Cufflinks - diamond and sapphire to compliment the tuxedo - $14,400

  Tuxedo: Conti & Ferraro shawl collar, single button in a navy blue jacquard that almost looked black. $4,595

  ISAIA Rive dress shirt in pale blue with a cutaway collar and pleated sleeves for a bargain price of $347

  3 different ties for his tuxedo, totaling $1,045.

  And last but not least, I bought socks, boxer briefs, and happened upon the exact fragrance I smelled the day I met Hugo. Illuminum Black amber eau de parfum for only $580.

  I could almost see him standing next to me while we waited for the tow truck to come for my car. Only, in my imagination, he looked like the younger Hugo from the photo’s I’d seen that morning. Suddenly that memory morphed into Hugo wearing nothing but the next boxer briefs I’d purchased. I started sweating. The grand total, including the socks and underwear, came to $52,989.

  After I added it all up, I realized the total came to more than I’d ever made in a full year, and yet, I’d spent that much in less than six hours, including travel time. The realization that Hugo wouldn’t even flinch at the amount spent scared and invigorated me. I loved spending other people’s money.

  I just prayed he liked what I purchased. And I had to make sure my brother didn’t get wind of the stuff, so he didn’t go digging through it and start trying things on.

  I pulled the Mercedes into the driveway, not wanting to chance leaving it on the street. I’d be lucky if it still had the wheels in the morning. Not that my parents lived in a dangerous neighborhood, but this car would surely attract a lot of attention. Maybe I’d ask Dad if I could park it in the garage.

  Turns out, I didn’t have to ask. Dad came out to meet me before I could get out of the car.

  “What the hell is going on here?” He stepped right up to the driver’s door as I opened it. His brown eyes flared with yellow, like when he’d lost his temper. He ran his hands through his thick salt-and-pepper hair. “You can’t afford this. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Dad, calm down, it’s Hugo’s car. It’s a loaner. I’m working as his stylist this week, and he didn’t want my Jetta breaking down while I shopped for him. I promise it’s going back after a big event next week.” I opened the back door to unload my purchases.

  “Get back in the car. You’re not leaving this in the driveway. I’ll switch places with you.” He looked at the heaps of packages in the seat. “And I’ll help you unload.”

  I stood on my tiptoes and hugged him, a gesture he did not return, and got back in the car. He went back inside the house and in less than a minute, the garage door opened. I backed out of the driveway, so he could get out of the garage, and then I pulled into it. Once he had his car parked where I’d been, he got out and walked into the garage, closing the door behind him.

  “Should I put this stuff in my safe?” he asked as he grabbed three garment bags.

  I called back over my shoulder. “Nah, it’s okay, it’s only worth about sixty grand.”

  I heard my dad’s steps halt. I turned around, curious.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  I grinned. “Yeah, of course.”

  I didn’t want the man to have a heart attack after all.

  He walked with me to my room and we hung all the bags in my closet.

  “Don’t say anything to Bruce. I don’t want him coming in here and going through this stuff.” I warned.

  “I won’t say a thing. Besides, I think he has a date tonight.” He sounded excited.

  “Bruce? A date? Is it a guy or a girl?” A play on mom’s comment the day before.

  “Who knows? But he asked if he could borrow a dress shirt from me. He’s never asked that before.” Dad headed back to the bedroom doorway.

  “Maybe it’s an interview for a real job.” Not that convenie
nce store manager wasn't a real job. Just not what my parents had in mind after paying for four years of college.

  “At eight o’clock at night?” He called from down the hall.

  He had a point. How did he know Bruce had to be wherever at eight o’clock? My dad scares me sometimes.

  I flopped back on the bed and marveled at the purchases I’d made on my own. Marla had never allowed me to shop by myself, unless I shopped in her gallery of clothes, which had been loaned to her by designers. A client picked a piece, and Marla had it overnighted to her, so she could arrive at the client’s house in a fit of fanfare. At first I thought her tactics over the top, but then I understood. She wanted her clients to know how enthusiastic her shopping had been, then they’d be thrilled with the purchase. Rarely did Marla let a client down.

  The problem: I didn’t have the money, or the balance on my credit card, to make the purchases to liven up the presentation. I’d have to present the clothing and accessories in their original garment bags and boxes. But if I got this gig, I’d have clothing tags and high-quality garment bags made with my logo on them. I thought for a minute. What would I want my logo to look like?

  I must have closed my eyes at some point, because I awoke to my phone ringing. Orlean. I looked at the time. Eight-fifteen!

  “Crap in a bucket,” I said to the phone. Then I answered it. “I’m on my way. I fell asleep.”

  Orlean tsk tsked into my ear. “Get a move on, and call Uber, no one is driving home tonight.”

  I didn’t want to tell her I wouldn’t be drinking. I had a meeting in the morning. Or was it afternoon. That thought made me jump off the bed.

  “I’ve got to go. I’ll be there in a few.” Knowing good and well a few meant almost an hour.

  First, I had to text Hugo. I’d forgotten to let him know I’d made my purchases.

  I’m finished shopping. Let me know what time you want me there tomorrow.

  The response came back immediately.

  Crazy busy here, we won’t be able to meet until next week. Sorry.

  My heart sank. I’d been so excited to get started. I hoped this didn’t mean I’d been blown off. No way, he wouldn’t do that to Stella.

  I’d celebrate anyway. I opened the side of the closet not stuffed with Hugo’s items and looked for something I could throw on quickly, and get out the door. I undressed as I contemplated the colors hanging in my closet.

  I pulled out a pale aqua “swing dress.” The scoop neckline on the dress had rhinestone hardware at the front of the collar and a button and loop closure at the back. The solid fabric lining fit tighter than I last remembered, but the sheer outer layer camouflaged any need for Spanx. Now if I could just cover my arms. I looked in the mirror. Okay, so they didn’t look too scrawny in the sleeveless dress, but I really needed to get back to the gym soon. I pulled on strappy silver high heel sandals and headed toward the door.

  I’d been heading to the front door when I realized, I didn’t have a car.

  “Dad,” I yelled down the hall. “Are you still home?”

  When I didn’t get an answer, I headed toward my parents’ bedroom. Not thinking, I grabbed the door handle and swung the door open.

  The sight before me no child should ever have to witness. My mom stood over my dad, dressed in a black leather corset and garter, with black stockings. She’d clipped in hair extensions, and what? Mother of…she had a bull whip in her hand.

  Before I could blink the image out of my head, my mother dropped to the bed and screamed, “Maisy!”

  She didn’t bother to cover herself. Either that, or my dad had taken all the covers, because I couldn’t even see his head. She grabbed at the duvet. “Give me some,” she snapped at my dad.

  I stood staring when I knew I should back out of the room and be on my way.

  From under the covers my dad asked, “What are you doing home?”

  I finally came to my senses and turned away from the traumatizing scene. It’s bad enough to know your parents have sex, but leather and whips? That’s too much.

  “I never left.” I decided against asking for the car. “You need to put a lock on this door.”

  I walked out and slammed the door behind me.

  “We didn’t need one when we were empty nesters.” I heard my dad’s voice crack. I think I heard a chuckle, too.

  “Yeah,” Mom backed him up.

  “Well, I’m on my way out, so you two can get back to whatever S&M shenanigans you’re into.” God save me.

  As I climbed up into the driver’s seat of Hugo’s SUV, I considered what I’d seen. As much as I couldn’t erase the image, and it made me cringe, it also made me smile. Good for my mom and dad. A healthy and fun sex life after all these years. I should hope for as much.

  I smiled all the way to Granvu Lounge. I also drove like a student driver, so worried I’d get a scratch on Hugo’s car.

  I valet parked. Tossing the keys to the valet, I saw a classic 1950-something pink Thunderbird pull in behind me. Cool, I thought, as I ran toward the entrance of the club.

  Granvu Lounge is famous for hosting celebrity filled parties; but it is also a great place for famous people to let loose in a low-lit club. Infamous partiers such as P. Diddy have been spotted at this dance club right off Mckinney Avenue. So next time you want to get your groove on with some major stars, try out Granvu.

  Orlean, Gwen, and I used to get a table on the second floor and make a game out of who could find the most famous person in the place. Gwen had come to know many of them, being as her jewelry adorned their necks, arms, and fingers.

  I stopped just inside the door to text Orlean and let her know I’d arrived. Waiting for her to respond and tell me where they were sitting, I heard a familiar voice.

  “Hey, Greg, so good to see you…No, I’ve been traveling, and I haven’t been out in ages…We’re working like dogs on the next release, but I needed a break…Thank you, you look lovely, too.”

  I turned to see this exchange with the bouncer at the front door.

  You know all those crazy dance clubs you see on entertainment news, the ones in Vegas that they show on New Year’s Eve? The ones with the spotlights, red colors, and a disco ball in the middle of the dance floor. Welcome to Granvu. Just the type of place I’d expect to see Stella Popovits. Only I’d never seen her here before.

  Not sure if I should approach her in a public place, I didn’t say anything when our eyes met. My phone buzzed and the connection with Stella vanished as I looked to see Orlean’s text response.

  “Maisy?” Stella trotted up to me on four-inch heels. “Are you avoiding me?”

  I looked back up to see Stella less than a foot from me. “No, I’m sorry. I’m meeting my friends and just got a text. No way I’d find them in this maze.”

  Stella put her arm in mine. “Text them back and tell them you’re sitting at my table.”

  “Your table?” I didn’t mean to sound so stunned.

  “Yes, my table. I want you to sit with us.” She dragged me by the arm.

  I followed along, trying to stay on my feet as Stella maneuvered us through the crowd. When we arrived at her table, I finally got to see how the rich and famous live at their level, instead of from the cheap seats. Stella plopped down on a plush red diamond tuck upholstered booth and kicked her feet up onto the table.

  She wore black leggings, rhinestone stilettos, and a sleeveless black babydoll dress. In her classic style, her platinum ringlets sparkled in the lights.

  She patted the seat next to her. “Sit, sit, I want to introduce you to my friends.”

  Then she leaned into the man next to her and kissed him on the mouth. A long kiss. The guy was totally hot. Possibly a professional athlete, but I couldn’t tell you who.

  After swapping spit for a few seconds, Stella broke away. “Danny, this is my new stylist, Maisy Tucker.” She nudged him. “She does men, too, you know. She’s doing my brother.”

  My eyes went wide, and my body stiffened. What wa
s she saying? I wasn’t doing her brother. I smiled weakly, not knowing if I should shake his hand or French kiss him like Stella did. Not that I’d have ever kissed him. I’d leave that to Orlean.

  My phone vibrated. I looked down, then put it away.

  Stella saw me look. “Get your friends over here. They’ll extend the booth if we need it.” She then waved her arm at one of the cocktail waitresses. “Three bottles of my favorite!” she yelled over the noise and music.

  I sent a text to my girls, telling them where to find Stella’s private booth. I had barely tucked my phone back in my clutch when Stella grabbed me by the hand, “Let’s dance.”

  On the way to the dance floor, I yelled in her ear. “Is that your boyfriend?”

  She almost fell over laughing. Once she composed herself, we made our way to the center of the floor, and started dancing. I’d never dance with a girl I didn’t know before, so I did my best to loosen up and enjoy the moment. I mean, how many times would I get the VIP treatment at Granvu?

  My phone buzzed in my clutch, but I held tight and continued to dance. It’d be so rude to answer in the middle of a dance. As the song faded, the DJ announced, “I’ll be back in fifteen. Drink my friends, drink.”

  And , with that background music played at a much lower volume. As we walked off the dance floor, I swear I saw Bruce near the bar.

  Stella held my hand on the way back to the table. She got so close to my ear, I felt her lips. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t date. It’s complicated. I just have fuck buddies. It’s easier that way.”

  I looked at her, confusion written in the frown.

  “Everyone knows who I am, Maisy. Everyone. Try to find someone who doesn’t. And when you’re me, you don’t know if people like you for you, or for who you are.” She cocked her head.

  I didn’t get as close as she did when I responded, “I like you for who you are. Just saying. I mean, I really don’t know you, but I like your style.”

  With that, Stella hugged me. “Hugo said you’re a straight shooter.”

  My whole body shivered. Hugo had talked to her about me again. What else had he said? Did he tell her about me giving him a chubby?