by Piper Lawson
Our eyes landed on the cat at the same time. Suit promptly meowed and walked away, declaring that he officially didn’t give a fuck.
“The ring was insured, right?”
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall. A few hours ago my gorgeous girlfriend had been moaning my name with her back against the shower tile. I was supposed to land a job, take her out for dinner, and propose, after which we’d be just a few months from spending the rest of our lives together.
Now, I had nothing.
“I should call Ramone and cancel the dinner reservation,” I said numbly.
“I’ll take care of it. Dylan, it was a fucking gorgeous ring. I’ll replace it if I have to. Tell me where you got it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
I pressed the heel of my hand to my closed eyes. Pictured the thin hammered band of white gold. The full-carat diamond I’d used every dime from my summer job to buy.
“I made it.”
Cursing, Nate pulled out his phone and started tapping on it. “We’re going to get that ring back.”
“What are you doing?”
“Googling how to get a ring out of a cat.” He tucked the phone in his pocket, crossed to the kitchen, and pulled open the top drawer.
“I don’t think you use a knife, man.”
Nate lifted the can opener. “I’m going to feed it.”
An interested meow sounded from behind us as the cat padded across the room and leapt easily onto the counter. I shot the thing a glare.
A few minutes later Suit’s dish was full, and we hovered like anxious parents until every bit of food was gone.
“How long is this going to take?”
“I don’t know. I don’t usually wait around watching the cat shit.”
I shoved my hands into my pockets and found the instructions I’d jotted on a scrap of paper for how to get to my interviews this morning. I pulled the paper out and scrunched it into a ball.
“Hey, do you have a garbage?”
“Under the desk.”
I went where Nate indicated and found it empty. Something sparked in the back of my mind. “Nate? When did you take out the trash?”
“Last night.”
I straightened and our gazes met.
Ten minutes later, we were in the alley that serviced the building.
“This is officially the grossest thing I’ve ever done,” I grunted as I lifted one leaking bag after another out of the dumpster.
“Wish I could say the same. Wait, I think I found our garbage bag from last night.”
“How do you know it’s yours?”
“I don’t really. Just hoping. And it’s the first one that doesn’t smell like puke wrapped in mold.”
An hour later, we’d rummaged through an entire dumpster with zero luck. My gag reflex had been seriously tested. I was sticky and smelled like garbage as I leaned back against the edge of the bin.
Nate did the same, breathing hard as he shot me a look. “Well?”
“It’s got to be in the cat. We just have to wait it out.”
My usual patience was nowhere in sight. I wanted to claw my eyes out as we heaved ourselves out of the dumpster and found our way back upstairs.
The cat was curled up in the corner, sleeping. The litterbox was undisturbed.
“Now what do we do?” I shot the cat a dirty look.
“There’s only one thing to do.” Nate crossed to the fridge, reaching inside and producing two cans. “Domestic or imported?”
Chapter 7
Lex
“One hundred and thirty-four dollars, please.”
The brunette who handed me her credit card was my age, with short hair cut in a daring pixie. I swiped the card through the machine, and a little ripple of excitement ran through me. The receipt started printing, the only noise aside from the indie tunes wafting through the speakers in the corner of the store. I wrapped the blouse she’d bought in lemon-printed tissue paper and put it into a gray bag with fuschia writing on the front.
“I love your designs,” the girl added as she took the bag. “I wish you guys made more dresses, though.”
“Thanks so much. We really appreciate your feedback.”
Ava draped herself over my shoulders as our latest customer headed out the door. “Told you we should make evening wear. Jamie Walters’ new collection is in all the magazines. She’s making a killing selling lingerie with lace overlay and calling it cocktail.”
“You sound like such a snob right now,” I teased, tucking the receipt into the cash register.
My friend boosted herself onto the counter in front of me. “You don’t even like the clothes. Sometimes I think you just get off on taking people’s money.”
“You know that’s not true. I love the clothes.”
“So look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have an orgasm every time you touch a credit card that’s not yours.”
I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out.
No matter what problems came up, it was pretty incredible that I got to work with my best friend on our own business. And that business was new every single day. After a year and a half, our online sales were booming. We sold into boutiques in New York and LA, and our web store added to the income that was still modest but growing every season. It was enough to pay the rent and reinvest.
Earlier this year, Jordan had shown us the listing for this little store in SoHo. We hadn’t been planning to expand into retail, but looking back months later, it seemed obvious. The first floor of this building included both a space to sell and a place to sew. It was small, but it was ours and I loved it.
“Hey, isn’t my brother taking you out for dinner tonight?”
Ava’s comment pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the vintage clock shaped like a whale on the wall.
“Actually, he just texted to cancel. I guess something came up.” I ignored the pang of disappointment in my stomach and followed my best friend to the back of the store.
It was stupid to be upset about Dylan cancelling dinner. I mean, he’d only come up with the idea this morning. So why was I suddenly concerned?
Because you want to spend quality time with your boyfriend—the one you never see and you’re crazy about—and you thought he was on the same program.
Ava settled herself in front of the project she was working on, and I forced my attention to the worktable that held the half-finished VIP bags.
OK, the barely started VIP bags. The neat rows of matte black with the magazine’s logo had been provided by Kirsten’s team. The contents were up to me.
I’d been going through options for the last two days, racking my brain. Nothing seemed right for the magazine, which was contemporary and fresh, and the designer, who was chic and simple.
More than chic and simple. Elle Duchesne was a sensation. She’d come out of nowhere five years ago with a dress that had hit social media when a celebrity had worn it on the red carpet. Since then, the Parisian girl—who was barely older than we were—had built an empire. It probably didn’t hurt that her mother was a designer too, but I had to give her credit. You could buy her clothes on five continents, and the only thing better than her designs was her business savvy. I had a serious girl crush and was dying to meet her.
Which was also part of the reason I couldn’t focus.
“A, I need to tell you something.” I swivelled to face my best friend, letting out a sigh.
Ava craned her neck, but when she saw my face she crossed to me, leaning a hip on the table and folding her arms. “OK…”
“You know how we’ve been looking for a chance to take Travesty global. And I was worried it was too soon, that we don’t have the experience to do it. Well, Kirsten offered to try and set me up with an internship with Elle Duchesne. I thought it was just an idea, like it’d never happen, but she called yesterday and said she’d pitched it to Elle.
“That’s what the bags are for. They’re an e
xcuse to meet Elle at her show.”
Ava’s eyes were round. “So … what would that mean?”
“Six months in Europe.” Excitement and nerves ran through me.
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know, everything?” I shrugged helplessly. “We haven’t talked about the details, and of course I wouldn’t say yes without talking to you. It seems crazy to even think about it. We’re so busy here. That’s why I didn’t want to say anything before I knew for sure if it was an option. I feel like I’d be leaving you guys shorthanded.”
I searched my best friend’s pixie face for a sign. It wasn’t like Ava to keep her feelings bottled up, so the fact that she hesitated before responding had me worried.
Finally, she shrugged both shoulders. “I think you should do it. We’ll figure it out. Jordan can carry the rent on your apartment—she’s loaded, if you didn’t notice—and there’s such a thing as email. Maybe we’d even have to come visit you.”
I couldn’t believe how supportive she was being. “Come on. I don’t want you guys to have to work 24/7 because I’m off having fun.”
“You won’t be having fun. If it’s anything like your internship with Kirsten, you’ll be working your ass off. And yeah, it might be a little hard on us. But I know how obsessed you are with Elle. Maybe if you didn’t spend all your money on her clothes, or stalk her on social media, or print out her interviews for your bulletin board, it would be different, but—”
I closed the distance between us and squeezed her in a hug, hard enough to cut off her words. “You’re the best, A.”
“Tell you what. I haven’t heard from Nate either. He’s probably working on his damned project again. So screw the boys. Let’s get a drink and talk about girl shit. With you and Jordan living together, it’s like I barely know you.”
~
I texted Dylan to let him know Ava and I were going for a drink after work.
No response.
I got home to find the apartment empty. I settled for turning on the TV to calm my nerves.
It was almost ten when I heard sounds at the door. I crossed the room just as Dylan walked in, his eyes a little glazed and keys dangling from his fingers.
“Hey. What’s going on? Are you OK?”
“I will be.” He stumbled past me and collapsed on the couch.
A thousand fragments ran through my mind. “How were the interviews?”
“Shitty,” he confessed, his voice grim. “They were shitty.” Familiar chocolate eyes met mine, and compassion washed over me.
I went in to hug him but stopped halfway. “Whoa. Dylan, where have you been? You smell like … I don’t even know what.”
“With Nate. We drank beer.”
“In the sewer?”
“At his place.”
I couldn't remember seeing Dylan this drunk before, and it threw me. I padded to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, but by the time I got back to the living room, Dylan had passed out on the couch.
Chapter 8
Dylan
Last night was an epic shit show. Instead of taking advantage of the girl I’d spent the better part of my life dreaming about on my second-last night here?
I got drunk with my sister’s boyfriend and woke up on the couch at four am smelling like a urinal.
After taking the most-needed shower of my life, I’d wandered into Lex’s bedroom, careful not to wake her. My eyes adjusted, thanks to the sliver of moonlight sneaking between the curtains, to find Lex tucked into her bed. I pulled the blankets up around her, but I couldn’t bring myself to crawl in next to her.
Thanks to my sister’s cat, I had no ring, and no dignity.
Actually, the ring might’ve been the cat’s fault. The rest was my own. I cringed, thinking about the fuzzy memory of stumbling back into Lex’s apartment last night. Here’s hoping she’d forgive me in the morning. I mean, she had to.
The moment I’d decided to pop the question wasn’t when she’d last visited. It was before then. I’d seen this old couple sitting together on a park bench and I thought, That’s what I want. Me and her. Always. But it wasn’t as easy as I’d thought.
I’d figured from the moment I stepped off the plane it would all go down like a movie. Lex would drop everything to be with me. I’d talk to a company who’d be lucky to have me and maybe even make me an offer on the spot. I’d propose. We’d go skipping hand in hand through Central Park or something like that.
Well, you’re batting zero so far.
After dropping into the living room chair and falling back asleep, I woke up for real just after ten. Lex had left me some painkillers and water on the coffee table in front of me, along with a note saying she’d be at the store and to call if I needed anything. I popped the pills and drank the water, wishing viciously she hadn’t had to do that.
At the shrill sound of my phone, I grabbed for it, mostly to make it stop ringing.
“I found it.”
“What?” It took me a moment to realize what Nate was talking about. When I did, a breath I’d been holding for the last day released. “Thank fuck.”
He let me into his apartment and presented me with the ring. “I’d better let you hang onto this. The odds of Lex finding it are lower than of me losing it.”
“Thanks.” I felt signs of life from deep inside me as I held the solitaire in my hand, and every glint of light off its facets made me more hopeful. “Wait. Did this come out of the cat?”
“God no. I pushed the desk to the side looking for Suit’s vet records and it was there. Must’ve fallen down the crack between the desk and the file cabinet. Guess I’m lucky Ava didn’t find it.”
“I thought you guys were good?”
He read my expression. “We are. But we’ve only been back together six months. I’m not going to propose. Though it might be worth it for the look on my mom’s face. Still, Ava was pissed when she came home and found me drunk last night.”
“Drunk and smelling like garbage.”
“What? No. I showered.” His expression shifted. “Lex found you… Shit, that sucks.”
“So neither of us is in the running for boyfriend of the year.” I started toward the door but pulled up halfway. “Hey, what are you even doing home on a weekday? Your hangover wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“I took today off figuring I might need to come up with a solution for the ring. I already had the numbers of three jewelers to see if I could get something made on short notice.”
His kindness touched me. “You’re a class act, Townsend.”
“Well, it’s all worked out. But if I show face at the office now, someone will throw a case at me faster than you can say compensatory damages. So—” he rubbed his hands together “—what should we do? Two guys with the city at their feet.”
“Uh, OK. I was supposed to have proposed yesterday. I didn’t really come with a contingency plan.” I scratched my head. “I have an idea.”
Twenty minutes later we were pulling up in front of an unfamiliar address. The skinny front window featured two mannequins sitting facing each other, with one knee bent and the other foot up so the two were pressed together. Each was wearing a patterned skirt and top. A third, wearing a dress, stood behind. Flamingos lined the back of the display, and “Travesty” was written in neon pink like graffiti across the window.
We stepped inside and the bell dinged.
Lex was curled up in a chair behind the desk, squinting at something on the computer. Surprise crossed her face when she glanced up, her gaze flicking from me to Nate. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
I held up the paper bag. “Working girls need lunch, right?”
“Did my boyfriend just call us strippers?” Ava appeared from somewhere in the back. Jordan followed.
“I think your brother called us prostitutes.” But the corner of Lex’s mouth twitched, and the twisting in my gut released.
I crossed to her, wrapping an arm around her and tucking her head under my chin. “I
’m so sorry for last night,” I murmured. “It wasn’t one of my finest moments. I’ll make it up to you.”
“It’s OK,” she whispered back. “We can talk later.”
“This is the life,” Nate commented, leaning an elbow on the counter and surveying the space.
Ava rounded the counter to stand in front of him, hands planted on her hips. “Says the man who was drunk and surrounded by comic books when I came home on a weeknight. The same man who refuses to partake in even a hint of the awesomeness that is Fashion Week.”
He groaned. “It’s not my scene.”
“Right. But that stupid lawyer dinner you dragged me to last month was mine.” She arched a brow. “Wait. You actually think this is easier than what you do, don’t you?”
“Do I think fashion is less complicated than litigation. Yes, I do.” He bent in to kiss her, but she turned her head away.
“Lex?”
“It’s a different skill set. Besides the designing, you need to be good with people. And want to help them.”
The door opened, and all five of our gazes snapped to the front, where a woman our age managed to get in the door despite her armful of bags.
“I got this one,” Nate murmured.
Ava’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“I am man, watch me sell.” He brushed past my sister and crossed to meet the woman. “How can I help?”
“I’m looking for some fall pieces for layering.” She had a light accent I couldn’t place.
“Um. Right. Well, these have layers.” Nate fingered a top.
Both Nate and the woman glanced our way at Ava’s snort, and we ducked our heads. Lex dropped her attention to the binder in front of her, and Jordan lifted her phone. Ava folded shirts, and I folded my arms. I wasn’t going to miss this for anything.
“Sure, maybe I’ll try that,” the woman was saying.
“Great. What size?”
“Thirty-two.”
Nate flipped through the shirts, turning over labels as he went. He scratched his neck when he got to the end of the rack. “I don’t think our sizes go that high.”
