by Julia Bright
I choose a dress from my private stash of clothes in my office and hold it up. Maybe I should run next door and buy something a little more traditional. But, dammit, I’m not ashamed of my clothes.
My phone rings right as I slip out of my shirt and pants. It’s Baxter. His call sends my heart fluttering. “Hello.”
“Change of plans.”
I roll my eyes and wonder why I’m still putting up with this charade. Then I remember college and how hurt Baxter had been by his parents. How I’d wanted to make him mine. We’d never connected like that and now is my chance. I roll my eyes and tune back into him.
“Okay. So, what is the new plan?”
“Pack a bag for two nights, though I’m going to search for an excuse for us to leave in one. We’re driving up to meet my parents for the weekend.”
I stare at my desk, thinking of the schedule for the shop. Luckily, I had good employees. I would need to work a little, but I could bring my computer with me. I’m in too deep already, and though I owe Baxter nothing, I kind of do owe him something. He was there for me when I needed him in college.
“Fine, pick me up at my place?”
“Okay. Could you text me your address again?”
This was going to be a nightmare. I pray his parents leave New York after this weekend. They were a drain on me, but this adjustment allows me time with Baxter.
“Oh, they dress for dinner, so you’ll have to wear a cocktail dress, something muted.”
My eyes narrow as I stare at my creations. There was one dress in particular which was pre-release. It was a one of a kind so far because the manufacturer hadn’t delivered yet. But this one I’d sewn with my own two hands and it was far from muted.
“Sure, muted.” I hang up and send him my address. I pull on my pants and shirt before I send a note to my manager, informing her I won’t be in to cover any shifts this weekend. Not that I’m on the schedule, but I am a hands-on kind of person and the store is new.
I grab my computer and a few items of clothing from my private closet and fold them neatly before dropping them into a store bag. I buzz out of my office right into Rachel and a friend.
“Rachel, it’s good to see you.”
“Heather, oh my goodness, I didn’t know you’d still be here. This is my sister, Olivia.”
“Hello, Olivia, it’s nice to meet you. I was just headed out.”
Rachel glances at her sister then back to me. “I’m trying to get my sister to try some of your clothes.”
I nod and smile, thinking Olivia would never feel comfortable in my clothes, but hey, I’d found stiffer converts who were all business during the day but liked to wind down in the evenings and weekends.
Olivia sticks out her hand and her lips curve up a little. “My sister seems to think she’ll be a famous designer.”
I’d fought through doubt and won. I’d been in the right place at the right time and gained a client who’d introduced me to a couple of directors who in turn introduced me to a few actresses. Then my business snowballed.
“Sometimes, all it takes is being in the right place at the right time,” I say.
Olivia nods then glances away quickly. Maybe I’d struck a nerve. I had to go, so I couldn’t stay and chat with Rachel and her sister.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” I say before turning to Marci, my assistant store manager. “I’m leaving for the evening. I sent a note to Bree, but I wanted to tell you I’ll be gone for the weekend.”
I wave to Rachel and her sister before I take off. The crosstown bus stop is right outside my store so I hop on and then catch the subway the rest of the way home. I love being in the mass of humanity, mixing in with people of different nations who speak different languages, dress differently, live differently. A child is singing in a different language, it’s sweet. I smile to myself and glance at my phone. There is a text from Marci.
Weekend away? Are you going to party? Maybe go to Vegas or Key West?
I laugh as I type my reply.
No, nothing so exciting. I’m headed to Connecticut.
Oh God, at least tell me you’ll have a man you can play with at your beck and call.
A bark of laughter escapes and a few people on the train glance my way. I type in my reply, a smiley face. The train screeches to a halt and I hop off and head up to the ground level. I pick up an apple at Westside Market.
“There’s my girl.”
I turn and wave. “Hi’ya, Frank.”
He moves closer and hands me a peach too. “Take this one; it’s on the house. By the way, I saw six women wearing your clothes today. You’re taking over the city.”
My cheeks heat a little. “It’s good right now, but people change their minds.”
“That they do. Have a good weekend.”
“You too.”
The apple crunches when I bite into the flesh. The sweet taste covers my tongue and I’m reminded of a time in college when Baxter came to me crying because his parents had done something evil. I’d just made an apple strudel and we demolished the whole thing while we drank wine and chowed down. If we’d had a joint, I’m sure we would have shared it.
It was just another night where Baxter revealed his pain and I opened my arms, accepting him fully. Why hadn’t we ever kissed?
I texted Marci one last time, telling her to have a good weekend and to call me if anything came up. I stare at my clothes and for a second I think about complying with Lucinda’s wishes for me to wear toned-down clothing, then I laugh. I wasn’t going to be someone else, not for her, not for anyone.
After packing enough clothes for the weekend, I also grab something to sleep in. A raunchy lacy thing I’d been given as a gag gift at a party peeks out from the back of my drawer. I reach for it and my fingers play over the satin and lace. Before I can stop myself, I drop the lingerie into my bag. I wasn’t going to wear it for Baxter, I tell myself. I just want to put it on in one of those huge houses the ultra-wealthy own, just to be a rebel.
I laugh at how ridiculous I’m being. Wearing raunchy lingerie in someone’s posh house makes my belly flutter. I know my act of rebellion is silly, and not really rebelling, but I want to do it anyway.
My phone rings and I see Baxter’s name on the display. My insides twist. “Yes?”
“I’m outside. I’ll come up.”
“No need. I’m headed down.”
I check my place, making sure the lights are off and I unplug the toaster on the way out. My heartbeat quickens. A weekend away. It had been ages since I’ve done anything at all like take a weekend with a guy. Maybe this will be fun.
When I step outside, a set of car lights flash. The door on the car opens and Baxter steps out looking mighty fine. He’s wearing slacks and a white button-down shirt, a black tie, and dark sunglasses. My breath hitches. I like to dress funky, but give me a guy in a white dress shirt, and I’m toast.
He takes my suitcase before going around to open my door. I slide into the car and glance up, catching the thin line of his mouth. I shiver at the cold shoulder he’s giving me. Maybe this won’t be a fun trip. Or maybe he’s just stressed because of the traffic. Horns honk all around us and people zoom by. It is stressful. I’ve judged him too quickly.
He shuts the door and places my bag in the trunk. We’re on our way, zooming out of the city in traffic that is much lighter than I expect. I guess most of the residents were headed to Long Island and the beach while we were going to the country.
“Did you have a good day?” I ask after a while. He hasn’t said anything since getting in the car. It’s a little weird.
“Eh, it was okay,” Baxter says as he looks to change lanes. He’s distracted, no question.
I decide to stare out my window and take in the landscape. I loved the way the trees take over as we leave the city. The scenery inspires me. Maybe this weekend would be better for me than I’d thought.
Thirty or so minutes into the drive Baxter loosens his tie and sighs so heavily I
turn to look at him. Stress lines mar his forehead.
“Bad day?”
“Fuck.” He draws out the word as he tugs off his sunglasses.
I chuckle and reach over, rubbing his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me about it.”
“Oh God, I can’t get into it right now. We’re nearly at the house and my day was too shitty to make it quick.”
I remove my hand from his shoulder, wishing I could really pull him close and hold him. But that Heather was gone. I’d been hurt too many times trying to take care of other people. Actually, Baxter had hurt me the most. He’d left California and never looked back. The next thing I knew some trashy website featured him with a girl on his arm. Though we’d been close, he’d never once called me again. I’d thought we’d had something growing between us, but I’d been wrong.
Less than five minutes later we pull up to a huge colonial with a broad porch. Baxter cuts the engine and turns to face me. His lips curve up in a real smile. He reaches across the divide and squeezes my arm.
“Let’s do this.”
I chuckle as I reach for the door. “I like your attitude.”
We hop out of the car and he grabs our bags from the trunk. When I try to take mine, he shakes his head.
“First off, I’m a gentleman. Secondly, if my dad sees me allowing you to carry your bag, I’ll be roasted for years to come. Third—”
The door opens and Baxter never gets to finish his point. A short man with broad shoulders and a small pot belly comes out and waves, the smile on his face is huge.
“Master Jason, it’s good to see you. Though I shouldn’t be calling you master any longer since that’s reserved for children, and you aren’t a child. I hear you’re getting married. You must be his fiancée. You’ve done well, Master Jason. Oh, there I go again. What should I call you? I call your father Mr. Scott. I guess I could call you Mr. Scott too, but it doesn’t really fit you.”
“Hello, David. This is Heather. She’s my fiancée. I think you’ll like her. And no, please don’t call me Mr. anything. How about you call me Baxter.”
David glances over his shoulder and then turns back to face us, his lips turn down in a frown. “If they catch me calling you anything other than Mr. or Master, they’ll fire me. I can call you Mr. Baxter if that’s the name you’re going by.”
Baxter nods and flashes a devastating smile. “It is, I can’t go by Jason. Everyone calls him that and it feels wrong.”
“Sure, then it’s Mr. Baxter. And you, young lady, you’re lovely. How did you get hooked up with this guy?”
I laugh and push a strand of hair behind my ear. “We met a long time ago.”
Baxter tosses an arm over my shoulder and pulls me close. It feels right to be so close to him. Sadness fills me because this isn’t real. “In college, we met in college,” Baxter says.
“Well, what may I call you? You’re not married yet so I can’t go with Mrs. How about we just call you Miss Heather?”
“I’d like that, David.”
“Good, good. Now then, if you need anything, I’ve written my number on a card and it’s in your room. Text me and I’ll take care of whatever it is you need.”
“Oh, thank you,” I say, dismissing his singular use of the word room. He must have meant rooms, or maybe Baxter already had David’s phone number. That had to be it.
“I’m serious, day or night. I live in a house just past the woods, on the left, so I’ll be on the property most nights.”
I nod, wondering how weird it would be to have a full-time employee waiting on my every need.
David takes our bags and we head into the house. Baxter’s mother and father greet us along with another couple. They’re sitting in a front room with a bar setup that is way more fanciful than almost any restaurant bar I’ve ever seen.
“Baxter, it’s good to see you,” a gentleman who was maybe in his late fifties or early sixties says.
“William, it’s nice to see you. This is Heather, my fiancée.”
William turns to face me, his smile broad. “Well, aren’t you a pretty one. We wondered if Baxter would really ever find someone. Honestly, I thought you were fake since he wouldn’t share anything about you with his parents.”
I sputter and Baxter has to pop me on the back a few times. It takes a few seconds but I recover. I loop my arms around Baxter’s closest arm and kiss his cheek.
“I’m very much real.”
“What would you like to drink?” a woman who looked to be a near replica of Lucinda asks. “I’m Alisha, William’s wife. Lucinda is my cousin. That’s why we look alike though people have always confused us for twins.”
I’m a little surprised. They look like twins, not cousins, but I don’t say anything. “I’ll have wine.”
“Oh drats, I was hoping I could impress you with my mixology skills. I’m taking a couple of classes. I’ve gotten very good at making a mojito.”
“Oh, what type of mojito?” I move to the bar and Alisha pulls down a few bottles and a tall glass.
“I have raspberries.”
“Sure, I’ll have a raspberry mojito.”
Alisha looks pleased. Lucinda steps close and shakes her head. “You shouldn’t encourage her. Bartending is a vile profession.”
Alisha’s lips curve up and she winks at me. “Darling, you may consider it vile and beneath you, but it doesn’t stop you from getting smashed each night.”
“Bartenders are servants,” Lucinda says.
Horror washes over me. Alisha shakes her head and Lucinda rolls her eyes. She reaches for a glass. “Since you’re playing the servant, get me something to drink.”
If I knew anything about pouring fancy drinks, I would have hopped over the bar and made something just to show support for Alisha. Jason comes over, his frown deepening as he stares at me.
With a snort, he turns to Alisha. “Whiskey neat, none of those girly drinks for me.”
“You’ve already had three,” Alisha chides.
“I need more if I have to endure this meal.”
I won’t lie, if I had a car, I would leave. Baxter moves to stand behind me, one hand on my waist, the other on the bar. He kisses the side of my head then moves closer. He was baiting his parents. They hate me, it’s obvious. They hate my clothes and probably made assumptions about me based on how I looked the first day I met them. Had I known I was going to meet his parents that evening, I would have changed clothes. Of course, if I’d known the reason Baxter wanted me to meet him that first night, I wouldn’t have shown up.
I hadn’t said anything to Baxter about what I did for a living, and I wasn’t going to. I wouldn’t tell any of them I design clothes. I didn’t want Baxter’s mother to develop a false face just because she thinks I might be someone famous. I almost laugh at my thoughts. I’m not famous at all. I’m lucky that I’m known to a few faithful followers who purchase my clothes. Those people are my base, and I’m forever grateful for them.
Alisha sets my drink in front of me, and I smile, hoping it doesn’t look too fake as I wish I were anywhere but here. “Thank you.”
“Take a sip and tell me what you think.” Alisha begins working on another drink, and she pours Jason his whiskey, setting it down in front of him.
“Fix Baxter one of these. It’s a real man’s drink, not one of those sissy things you’re making.”
I suck in a quick breath as I lift my glass. Don’t say a word, not one, whispers through my thoughts. But I can’t keep my mouth shut.
“Actually, Baxter wants a beer,” I say as I turn to him and brush my lips over his cheek.
“That’s not a drink for a powerful man,” Jason spits out as he gets up and stumbles out of the room, drink in hand.
“Baxter, what would you really like?” Alisha asks.
Baxter stiffens, the pressure of his hand on my waist increases. I say nothing. I’ve already gotten involved and if any of this were real, they would be my in-laws. But it wasn’t real and I’d never see them aga
in after this week. I shouldn’t make Baxter’s life more difficult.
“I’ll take a beer, bottle if you have one.”
Alisha smiles. “I sure do. Let me get you one from this refrigerator. See, William, having beer stocked is wise. He said no one would drink it, but we have guests every weekend. It was a great buy.” Alisha opens the beer and hands it to Baxter. He takes a long draw and I can see him relax.
“Thank you, Alisha. It’s just the perfect temperature.”
“You’re welcome. So how’s your job going?”
While Alisha and Baxter chat, I steal a glance at Lucinda and William. They’ve moved to a set of chairs across the room. Lucinda’s lips are turned down in a frown and William has his finger out, shaking it at her. Their voices are low, so I don’t catch the conversation, but I wonder why William and Lucinda are arguing. Maybe it’s about Jason and his drinking. The man seems to have issues. Heck, both of Baxter’s parents seem to have issues.
“You ready?” Baxter asks.
I look up at him, unsure where the conversation had gone. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
“We need to dress for dinner.”
“Sure. Thank you, for the drink.”
Alisha flashes me a brilliant smile. “I love serving drinks. Take it up with you. We’ll be eating appetizers on the back porch in thirty minutes. Dinner will be served in an hour so I won’t be mixing any more drinks until dessert. You might as well enjoy it while you can. Oh, and I put you two in the same room. The other guest room is being redecorated and as you well know, Baxter, Lucinda and Jason won’t sleep in the same room. But since you two are engaged, I figured it would be okay.”
I almost drop my drink, but Baxter covers for me and takes it from my hand before he flashes Alisha a toothy grin.
“Of course we don’t mind,” Baxter says before he steps away.
