Avoiding eye contact, I smile and take in his suit. “You look so nice, Blake. Thanks for coming tonight.”
Pulling me into him, Blake wraps his arms around me and squeezes tightly. I go willingly, remembering the way our bodies fit together perfectly. “I wouldn’t have missed it. Thanks for the invite.”
Someone grumbles behind me and then clears their throat. We’re blocking the entrance, so I step to the side, Blake releasing me so we can move out of the way.
“You must be Zach,” Blake says, looking past me. I turn to find an irritated Zach, staring Blake down. “Charlotte has said a lot of nice things about you. I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet last time I was in town.”
Leave it to Blake to play nice. The undertones in his voice tell me he’s not as enthusiastic to meet Zach as he’s letting on. Zach will never be able to tell, though.
“And you are…” Letting his voice trail off, Zach steps up next to me, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Blake. Charlotte’s—”
“Oh yes. The ex. She’s mentioned you before. I thought you two weren’t speaking,” Zach replies, directing his question to me instead of Blake.
“We’re still friends. I invited Blake tonight. He’s an artist, so I thought he might enjoy it. That’s not a problem, is it?”
“Of course not. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
I can feel the tension in our little circle beginning to rise. Blake and Zach are staring each other down, doing the alpha-male, pissing on their property thing. The thing is, I’m no one’s property. I’m not involved with either of them. If Aubrey had her way, Zach and I would already be married. If I had my way, Blake and I would be back together. Neither of us is getting our way these days.
“Why don’t you get us a couple of drinks, Blake,” Zach suggests.
Seriously? Zach is asking Blake to get drinks for everyone? What is his problem? He’s treating him like an outsider when he knows damn well Blake has worked in the industry before.
Flashing me a smile, Blake nods and walks toward the bar. Knowing he’s only going to be gone for a few minutes, I make quick work of what I have to do.
“What are you trying to accomplish, Zach? You know what Blake means to me. You don’t need to treat him like that. He’s only here because I invited him.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have invited him, then. From now on, run all your invites through me, please.”
“Why?” I ask. If my voice doesn’t convey the fact that I’m irritated, the fact that my hands are fisted on my hips should do the trick.
“Because this is work. I don’t want him interfering with it. I know he doesn’t approve of your decision, and I don't want him to come in here and try to change your mind. You’re a grown woman, Charlotte. You need to let him go. If you want to be his friend, fine, but I saw the way he was looking at you. It’s obvious that neither of you is ready to let the other go. That’s going to cause problems for you in this industry. I need you to trust me. This is for your career.”
When Blake returns, he engages Zach in small talk. The conversation is light. No one mentions our breakup or the fact Blake doesn’t approve of my decision. Zach asks Blake’s opinion on a few pieces of art as we move through the gallery. It’s almost starting to look like they might be able to get along.
I still don’t want to leave them alone together, but I have to use the bathroom, so I excuse myself, watching them over my shoulder until the door closes behind me. When I return, I don’t see them anywhere. I find Zach talking with one of the gallery owners I met earlier. Matt… Mark… Something like that. I’m pretty sure his name started with an M.
“Excuse us,” I say as I approach. Putting my hand on Zach’s arm, I gently pull him away from his conversation and around the corner were we can talk in private.
“That was awfully rude, Charlotte.”
Ignoring his comment, “I can’t find Blake. Do you know where he went?”
“He left.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t say. We were talking, and then he said he had to go.”
That doesn’t sound like Blake. He would make it a point to say goodbye. I was only gone for a few minutes. He would have waited for me to get back. Our friendship isn’t that far gone. Not yet. It can still be repaired.
“I have to call him. Excuse me.”
Zach grabs my arm and pulls me back. “Let him go, Charlotte. If he wanted to be a part of your life, of this, he would still be here. Give him time. Maybe he’ll come around.”
I spend the rest of the evening with the front door in sight, praying Blake will walk back in. It never happens. By the end of the night, my disappointment has turned into anger and I stop caring about it all together. If there ever comes a time when Blake decides to be understanding and compromise, we can try to work things out. Until then, I need to focus on my career and let it go. If I keep holding onto it, onto him, I’ll never be able to move past things. That’s exactly what I need right now. To move on.
As the limo pulls up in front of my building, Zach pulls me in for a hug. I thank him for a wonderful evening, kissing him on the cheek. Before I’m able to pull out of his embrace, Zach has captured my lips with his. I don’t respond at first, my thoughts going to Blake. The anger. The frustration. The sadness and disappointment.
Kissing him back, I pour every emotion I have into it. I must be doing something right because Zach pulls me onto his lap, causing my dress to rip up the side as I straddle him. I feel the limo rock and then there’s a tap on the window. Pulling back, I open my eyes to find Zach is grinning at me deviously, a sparkle in his eye.
“Your place or mine?”
“Uh… I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I mean… I’m not sure… I think we may have gotten carried away.” I crawl off his lap, doing the best I can to cover myself with the torn dress that barely covered me to begin with as I stutter out random words.
“Charlotte,” he replies, placing his hand over mine. “It’s fine. I didn’t plan on getting that carried away, but I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t enjoy it or I don’t want it to happen again. You’re a beautiful woman, and I’d be stupid not to notice. If you don’t want to invite me in, that’s fine. Maybe we can get together for dinner tomorrow instead.”
This feels wrong, but at the same time, it feels right. I enjoyed kissing Zach. Kissing is an art, and he’s mastered it. I may not be ready to invite him in, but I do have to eat, and it’s nice to eat with company.
“Dinner sounds nice. Why don’t I cook? Say, seven o’clock?”
“I’ll be here. Good night, Charlotte.”
Crawling out of the limo, I grab my purse and shuffle to the front door, the entire time pulling at the hem of my dress. I don’t let go until I’m safely inside with the door locked behind me.
Turning on the lights as I make my way to my bedroom, I replay the kiss over and over again in my mind. It may have been brief, but it was memorable. After changing into something comfortable, I call Aubrey to check in on her. She’s feeling better, so she’s coming down for a detailed play-by-play of tonight. Looking at the clock, it’s after midnight, but there was no way she was taking no for an answer.
“I want details, bitch. Every. Last. One,” Aubrey demands as she walks past me and into the apartment.
“What details? I met a bunch of people, said hello, avoided talking about the art, and came home. Now, I’m ready to crawl into bed and call it a night. You really didn’t miss much.”
I’m such a horrible liar. I know she’s going to see right through me, right through the stupid smile on my face, and know I’m holding something back.
“Whatever. That’s all standard work bullshit. Did Blake show up?”
My smile falls at the mention of his name. Way to ruin my high, Aubrey.
“He did, and then he left without saying goodbye.”
“Seriously? What a loser.”
“I have no idea why. I’m going to ca
ll him tomorrow and find out.”
“Don’t. You shouldn’t have to chase after him like that. Let it go. Move on.”
It’s as if she’s in my head sometimes. I know I need to, but it’s easier said than done.
“I was hoping I missed something exciting. The last event I went to, someone got caught making out in the bathroom. It made the entire evening more bearable.”
My face beings to flush, and I can feel the heat from my cheeks. Aubrey notices and gives me an inquisitive look, squinting her eyes, and then a knowing smile forms.
“Who did you make out with you little slut?”
“What?”
“You did!”
I don’t confirm or deny her suspicions, which pisses her off. She leaves an hour later without the answers she was practically begging me for. I wanted to tell her, but at the same time, I want to keep it to myself. For now. If something more happens, if we start something, we’ll have to tell her. If I didn’t, it’d be like I was keeping Zach my dirty little secret or something. I don’t want that. It doesn’t seem right.
I’ll tell her. As soon as I figure out what this is. If this is something.
February 2000
Focus. One foot in front of the other. Look straight ahead. Don’t look at the lights. Ignore all the flashes.
Stop.
Pivot.
Push off.
Head up.
Focus straight ahead.
Down the stairs.
Strip.
Where’s Genevieve? There she is.
Arms up.
It’s stuck. My hair!
Never mind.
Zipped. Change shoes. Fresh powder.
Back in line.
I’m up.
Look straight.
Head up.
The end of the runway is coming up.
Stop.
“Charlie.”
Freeze
There are only two people that have ever called me that in my lifetime. One was my father. He died when I was six. That was almost 20 years ago.
The other was Blake. I haven’t heard from him since I left LA. Almost seven years ago. It couldn’t be but… I heard my name.
Unfreeze.
Shit!
Pivot.
Push off.
Focus, Char. Focus. This is your last run. It’s almost over.
“Char! Great job. You looked magnificent.” Zach’s praises come with a cost these days. I take them with a grain of salt. He may be more than just my manager, but when a runway show is involved, he’s the worst manager to have. “You did perfectly.”
“Except?” I know it’s coming so I’ll ask and get the conversation over with.
“You paused too long on that last run.”
“I know.”
“What happened? I was watching on the screen. Your face, it appeared… frazzled.”
“Nothing.” I don’t want to tell him. No one’s called me Charlie in years. The last person to call me that was Blake. If I bring him up, it’ll only cause a fight.
After Blake disappeared, my career started to take off. One day I was living in LA, downstairs from Aubrey. Two months later, we were living in New York together, along with Zach. Things changed so quickly I didn’t have time to call Blake to ask what happened. I went from nobody to somebody overnight.
According to Zach, that never happens. Normally, it takes years to get noticed. Someone important noticed me that night at the gala. I was set up to have a photo shoot the following week. Those photos opened doors for me I never thought would open. They also opened doors for Zach and Aubrey.
I didn’t know it at the time, but Zach was a newbie to the industry as well. He was just getting started when he signed Aubrey as a client. Me? I was only his second client. My success was his success. His success meant success for Aubrey. It all rolled downhill, in a good way.
We’ve been a team now for nearly seven years. The only thing that’s changed is the living arrangements. Aubrey moved out after Zach and I officially started dating, even though it still feels like she’s living there most days. She’s at the apartment every day, all hours of the day, but she no longer lives with us.
“I need you to change for the after party. Ben is having all the models back to his place. I’ll be back in ten minutes. Be ready to leave.”
He’s gone before I can tell him I don’t want to go to the designer’s party. It wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s not an option—it’s an expectation. If I want to stay working in this industry, I have to play by the rules. The parties, the ones Blake warned me about, are part of the deal. The rest of what Blake warned me about—drugs and alcohol—that’s a choice. I choose not to engage.
“Oh! My! God! That was so freaking amazing!” Aubrey bounces over, half falling out of her top. She doesn’t seem to notice as she pulls at the two piece outfit, tossing it at the waiting assistant. “What’s the matter with you? You seem so glum. You’ve been like this since your birthday.”
My birthday. That was a hard one to suck up this year. I wasn’t able to go home to visit Alice and Scott. It’s the first time I’ve celebrated without them. I tried everything I could to rearrange my schedule to no avail. I even tried to get them to come here to see me, but with two new foster kids at home, it just wasn’t possible. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but to me, it was.
“I’m fine. It was just a weird show for me.”
“Weird how?”
“I swear I heard someone whisper my name during the last run.”
“I’m sure you did. There are a ton of people noticing you up there. They were probably talking about you.”
Not likely.
“Yeah, maybe that was it.” I need to shake this. I need to change the subject. “Are you riding with us to the party?”
“Yeah. You need to get changed before Zach comes back. I’ll meet you at the car.”
Brushing past me, I notice Aubrey has already changed, fixed her hair, and is ready to get out of here. I’ve been so lost in my own little world, I hadn’t even realized how much time I had wasted.
Stripping off the final outfit and handing it to the assistant who was patiently waiting on me, I re-dress in my own clothes and gather my things in record time. Zach is approaching, a large grin on his face, just as I’m pulling my purse up on my shoulder.
“I have good news for you.”
“How good?” Judging by the excitement in his voice, it’s awesome.
“I just finished speaking with an editor from one of the biggest fashion mags here in New York, and they want you to come in for a shoot next week. I guess one of their photographers got some great shots of you, sent them over, and insisted they book you as soon as possible. That’s big money, Char. This is going to be a good thing.”
My smile fades at the mention of a photographer. It has to be Blake. I wasn’t hearing things. He was here tonight. That’s the only explanation. This is not a good thing. My life is about to blow up in my face. I can’t tell him no; he’ll ask why I don’t want to do it. I don’t know for sure it’s Blake, but my gut tells me it is.
“Sounds great.”
“A little enthusiasm would be appreciated. You’re so ungrateful sometimes.” What? Are you fucking kidding me? “I’ll meet you in the car.”
Without waiting for a reply, Zach storms off in the same direction Aubrey went. Forcing myself to place one foot in front of the other, I follow behind him at a distance. His mood swings have gotten worse over the last few months. I wanted to chalk it up to stress. This was our first time at Fashion Week, and I know he worked really hard to make it happen. The stress of the week can tear you apart if you let it. He’s letting it get to him. We had a great show. Everyone—especially the designers—seemed pleased with both me and Aubrey. Zach has nothing to worry about. I’m sure we’ll be invited back again. Maybe we’ll even be invited to Paris or Milan. That would be amazing.
“Charlie!”
Stopping abruptly, the person behin
d me bumps into me and mutters something under her breath as she walks around.
“Charlie!”
There is it again. My name. Someone is calling my name. I knew I wasn’t hearing things.
Afraid to turn around and be face to face with my past, I stand perfectly still and wait. When goosebumps appear on my arms, I know he’s close. When the hairs on the back of my neck come to attention, I know he’s right behind me. If I wanted to ignore him or escape, my opportunity has passed.
“Are you going to turn around and say hello, or are you going to continue to stare straight ahead and pretend you don’t know I’m here?”
“I don’t know.”
His arm brushes mine as he walks around me and plants himself in my line of sight. He’s a vision. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him until this moment, and my eyes are starting to fill with tears. My best friend. The love of my life. The one who walked out on me and never called.
Blinking away the tears before they have a chance to fall, I tilt my chin up and make eye contact with Blake. “Hey.”
“After all this time, that’s all you have to say to me? Hey?”
“How are you?”
“Okay. That’s a little better. I’m good. How are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“How’s modeling?”
“I don’t want to fight with you, Blake.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, either. I really want to know. Is it going well? I mean, you’re here,” he says, waving his arms and looking around the enormous room. “It has to be going fairly well if you made it here.”
“It is. Things are pretty good actually.” I don’t want to lie to him and say they’re great because, at the moment, I feel anything but great. I’m pissed off at Zach, hungry, and now, nervous.
“I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. What are you doing here?”
“Work.” He holds up the camera dangling from his neck and waves it around. “You know me, always stuck behind the lens.”
Waiting on Someday Page 12
