by Avery Aster
“My face is banged-up.” Does it really matter, though? The world saw her at her worst in Milan.
“Blake scheduled beauty extraordinaire Nackie Karcher for your hair, and you’re getting Christopher Drummond to fix your face. Both will be with us ’til after we finish the taping tomorrow.”
Lex felt a little relieved. Christopher Drummond’s concealer could fix a hole in the wall. But she wanted a paper bag to put over her head. Deep sobs racked her insides and ran nonstop since she’d left Massimo’s arms. “What are we going to talk about?”
“We have to focus on the five primary questions. They are…” Taddy paused and looked up at her.
“Yes, I’m paying attention. Continue.” Annoyed, Lex hated being “handled”, let alone media-trained. She’d watched her dad go through it for years. Unlike Taddy, Lex never cared for the PR part to Easton. Nevertheless, it was Fashion Week and she did this twice a year.
“Okay, number one: are you and Massimo an item?”
“We were, for a few hours.” She became overwhelmed at her words, her heart heavy with regret. She loved being with him. “We’re going to talk after this week is behind me. I shouldn’t have left the way I did.” Her face tensed as she tried to digest her actions.
Taddy continued, “Oh, sweet baby Jesus on an ice-cream cone. You are a fucking mess, honey.” She shuffled her papers to display her annoyance. “Okay, your answer to the question should be you two are smitten with each other and very good friends.” She wrote the response on a card and handed it to her. “Read this over and over again until it seeps from your pores. Number two: are you selling your company to Girasoli?”
“Heavens, no! Not right now. I never considered selling, but we do need capital, and being merged with Girasoli’s fashion empire may provide advantages to Easton. I’m uncertain if I could work with someone I’m attracted to—in love with. How can this work?”
Taddy glared at her. “You are scatterbrained!”
“Massimo and I need to first figure ‘us’ out before we even talk business. I’m doing a spinoff label for them called Easton Express. It could be bigger than Easton Essentials. It’s more affordable and will go into all the mass stores.” She blubbered like an idiot. How should she package the truth to the press? Lex studied Taddy’s reaction for help.
“You’ll say you’re in discussions and trying to determine an acquisition.”
“Right, sounds good.”
“Mention your collaboration on several designer projects together.” She crossed it off her list, wrote the response on the second notecard, and handed it to Lex with a nod, memorize me the silent instruction. She continued, “Number three: what’s in store for your upcoming fashion show?”
She inhaled in comfort to answer the question. “The theme is ‘Meet Me at Sunset’. It’s sexy silhouettes with romantic blush tints, fluid draped dresses, tailored to perfection with separates that make you swoon.” My first dinner with Masi was at sunset.
“Lord knows we all love to swoon,” Taddy said, playing the interviewer.
“A true homage to the female figure with plunging necklines, some pieces are a little retro—a throwback to the late-seventies. The high-drama pieces are nude-on-nude colors, while others have rich and sugaring shades in varying corals and pinks.”
“Good response. Keep going, Miss Easton.”
“This year, I’m including a few more evening gowns similar to what Monique Lhuillier does.”
“Formal wear is new for you.”
“I met this amazing designer named Jemma. She inspired me—Massimo, as well.”
“I bet he did.”
“Milan motivated me. I worked on the sketches on the plane ride back. I’ll be up all night cutting and sewing.” Media aside, she remained curious as to who would be attending her show. “Do we have any celebrities coming?” Lex wasn’t one to appease an actress, but found it to be a requirement for the fashion game.
Taddy sat up and replied, “Same as last year, plus a few new ones. The talent wrangler is charging a pretty penny for the A-listers. We’ve confirmed Beyonce, Rihanna and Fergie. Gaga will come, but you can’t sit her on the same side as Madonna.”
This show is going to be huge. “Anyone famous modeling in the show?”
“Reality TV star Neve Adele is going to open. With her ratings on TV, the media’s jaws will drop when she comes out. But you know she’s exclusive to the lilac color.”
“I have a purple fabric I can use for her. Can we add Jemma Fereti to the show?” Lex had created a gown with Jemma in mind on the plane. She knew what fabric she’d use and remained confident it would go with her colorings.
“From Ford? Is she still modeling?”
“No, she retired, but I want her to do the show with me. I’ll give you her contact info.”
“Sure, honey. We’ll add her to the same models list. We have Bette, Zuzanna, Cora, and Nimue. You’re all set.” She held on to the seat in front and shouted, “Jose! How are we on time?” Taddy flipped to another folder.
“Fifteen more minutes, Miss Brill!” They pulled out from the Queens–Midtown Tunnel. Lex’s attention turned to the outside world speeding by.
“Do you really love him?” Taddy asked while putting a folder together.
A lump swelled in her throat when hearing the question. I’d better get used to it. During her interviews, she’d be asked that over and over again, more than any other item on the list. “Yes, I love him. Though, I’ve never felt love before and have nothing to compare this to. We’re passionate together.”
“And the sex?” Taddy’s face brightened with great interest.
“He’s magical, Taddy. I do. I love him.”
“How so?”
“Massimo is in charge. He commands a presence the second he walks into a room. I melt when I’m around him.” She thought back to the Q-and-A they’d played and how exhilarating Massimo became in bed. His big boy smile when he pounded into her. “I can’t live the life he leads, though. It’s not me. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” Without a doubt, she wanted to be with Massimo, but she couldn’t wrap her head around everything that came with it.
“I need to keep you in good spirits ’til we’re done with our last interview. So, you and Massimo figure you guys out after Fashion Week is over. ’Kay?”
“Gotcha.” She brightened a little. This schedule would keep her mind off Massimo. “Please thank Blake for me.”
“You’ll see him tonight.”
“What now?”
“We’re having dinner with the fashion reporter from Vogue. We have every major fashion editor coming to your show.” Taddy took pride in her work—Lex could hear it in her voice. “But Vogue wants to hear it first, hence why we’re having dinner.”
“What did you have in mind for the afterparty?” The idea of a soiree made Lex’s stomach turn. She wanted to get through the show, collect the orders, and be done with it for a while. She hoped Taddy forgot that final detail, but knew the “paint the town red” ceremonies mistress wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Blake put a call into Mr. Armin, and he gave us his club at The Soho Château. We’ll have it for five hours.”
Impressive. Mr. Armin reigned as the town’s most celebrated club owner on the East Coast.
“Five more minutes, Miss Brill,” Jose informed them.
“Thanks, Jose. Okay, Lex, I have two more questions for you.” She glared at her with a BFF face. “Is Massimo coming to the fashion show?”
“Nope. He didn’t give a reason and I didn’t pry. It may have something to do with his sister living here. But with everything going on this morning, it didn’t cross my mind.”
“Well, this sucks. But maybe it’s for the best he isn’t here to muddy your mind. You two will have a lifetime to figure this out later.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lex, you’re in love. I’ve never heard you say the ‘L’ word before. You’re going to move to Italy and marry your pr
ince. And Vive, Blake and I will be stuck as bridesmaids. Can we do a red-themed wedding?” She snorted.
“How can you make such predictions?”
“Your heart will tell you what to do when it’s time.” Taddy became sensitive and serious, a rare sight. “Sorta how you started Easton Essentials. It came to you and Birdie in a blink, and it is a wildfire success.”
“You’re right!” Lex thought about how Easton Essentials began on organic intuition.
“Always.” Taddy pulled from her SUV’s mini-fridge an aluminum-canned beverage and encouraged, “Down this. You’re going to need it for the fifth and final question.”
“What is it?” Lex pushed the cold can away from her, the condensation moistening her hands.
“Monster Bull Energy! You need to be ‘up’ for these shows, and this caffeine will have you talking as never before.” Taddy reached into her purse and pulled out an Excedrin bottle.
“Gonna pass, Taddy, but thank you.”
“Suit yourself. It’s not as if I’m giving you a cocaine bump or anything.” She popped two headache-relief white tablets in her mouth and swigged the drink. “I don’t want to ask this, but you’re going to have to work on an answer. Did you have a four-way and group sex party at The Milan Art Auction with two women named Ottavia and Scilla with Massimo?”
“My answer will be the truth. The photographs are a setup, a scheme to sell them to the tabloids. Vive is working the same angle, too.” She hesitated, debating whether or not she should see the press. “Can you show me what the Times published today? I need to see what I’m getting into.”
“No, Lex. It’s for your own good.”
“On a scale from one to ten, how bad is it?”
Her friend’s lips twitched. Perhaps Taddy had second thoughts. “I guess the interviews you’re going on will throw this in your face. Although, Poppy promised she’d tread with care on this topic.” She blinked. “It’s an eleven, Lex.” Taddy removed her iPad from her purse and handed her the screen.
Lex had prepared herself for it all day, but it wasn’t anything she’d ever expected. The article was titled, “Fashion Designer Lex Easton Dead by 30?” She reread the title again. “I don’t get it.”
“The Times implies at the rate you’re going, and based on your genetic makeup, you won’t make it to your thirtieth birthday, hence the question mark,” Taddy explained.
The article showed her father in an open casket. It should’ve been illegal to show such photos, but there Eddie Easton was, face-up, casket open. “I’ll never forgive my cousin for taking a picture during Daddy’s funeral—and selling it.”
Next to Eddie’s funeral photo sat Birdie’s mug shot from an arrest where she’d beaten up a groupie at Madison Square Garden. To the right, blown up larger than life, blared the picture. “Wow! Jemma’s dress makes me look naked.” Lex held the iPad out in her arms to ensure she saw the article as it appeared. “Why did they put black boxes on my nipples? You couldn’t see them in person, I swear.”
“I’ll be with you all day today and tomorrow.” Taddy scooted over to sit next to her on the car bench. “We’re all here for you. We’ll get through this. Poppy’s promised to keep your segment light and fun. We’ve known her for years. She’ll do right by you.”
Lex wrapped her arms around her friend. “I don’t know how we’re going to pull this off.”
Taddy pulled her close. “A year from today, we’ll look back on this and laugh. Brill, Inc. will turn this media around.” She withdrew from the hug and nudged her nose, giving Lex her famous Taddy Brill smile.
“I never expected it to be this bad.” Daddy, if you’re watching, please give me strength today. I need your help.
How You Doin’
Massimo noted forty-eight hours had passed and he’d not heard Lex’s voice. She’d texted when she landed and mentioned Taddy booked her back-to-back with meetings and she’d be in touch. He also did press interviews. The second Lex boarded the flight, he went to the local TV station and demanded airtime to tell his story—the truth. He issued a one-million-dollar reward to bring in Scilla and Ottavia. Both ladies turned themselves in within fifteen minutes with the ballsy idea they’d receive the payment. After they were arrested for assault and battery, Massimo agreed to drop the charges if they went on TV and confessed to the world what they’d done. The girls would tell reporters the image was staged and photoshopped. And Lex didn’t do drugs.
It wasn’t Brill, Inc. that had saved Lex’s reputation but Massimo’s persistence. Ottavia and Scilla agreed and the interview aired. Picked up abroad and fed out on all networks, the world heard their confession. Celebarazzi Magazine printed a retraction and was deemed an unworthy media source.
Afterward, he kicked everyone out from the Milano mansion. Jemma and Luigi offered to stay in and have dinner with him, but he declined and sent Rocco and his entire wait staff, kitchen servers, two butlers, chauffeur, two security guards and the bodyguard home.
Alone was what he wanted, but he didn’t expect lonesomeness. He’d cherished his quiet time before, but without Lex to talk to, for the first time ever, he felt lost.
He’d thought after the interview aired he’d be better. But in fact, Massimo felt worse. In an uncertain state, he’d done everything in his power to turn the situation around. Was it enough?
Massimo sat in the hot tub and soaked in a honey-oatmeal concoction. Rocco insisted the bath would lift his spirits. It didn’t.
In the kitchen, he made a panino, a sandwich filled with his favorites: salami, cheese and mortadella. It took him a few minutes to figure out where everything was. He wasn’t used to waiting on himself, but he stuffed his tummy in hopes it would fill his emptiness. It didn’t.
Nicolo, Nino and Noe crawled into bed with him as he buried them together under the covers to watch TV. Massimo flipped past the news, every show playing Lex images. It made him sad she wasn’t with him. He needed a good laugh and decided to turn it on something entertaining.
“Talk about it, cry over it, get it out.” The theme song for The Poppy White Show played through the TV’s speakers.
“Hello and welcome to The Poppy White Show. How you doin’? We have a great show planned for you today. To kick off Fashion Week here in New York City, we’ve booked as our special guest an American fashion designer. You may know her late father, rock ‘n’ roll legend Eddie Easton, and her eighties glam-metal mother Birdie. Her last TV interview was on Barbara’s Private Portrait at twelve years old. Take a look.”
He sat up against the pillow.
The TV came up to a video, the caption below reading, “Eddie, Alexandra, Birdie Easton.” Barbara sat back in a chair and asked, “Alexandra, how does it feel when you see yourself in the tabloids?” Barbara held up The Enquirer showing a very round little girl eating an ice-cream cone by a Mister Softee truck. Young Alexandra’s eyes filled with tears. Birdie’s hands fisted, maybe to punch Barbara. Little Alexandra put her fingers over her mother’s.
“How do you think she feels, Barb!” Eddie blasted. The audio bleeped again and again, blocking Eddie’s curse words.
The video came back to Poppy. “That interview, sixteen years ago, didn’t go well. Let’s hope today, at The Poppy White Show, it’ll be a better experience for our guest. Please give it up for Lex Easton!”
The audience clapped as the camera panned, shooting the crowd wearing “I heart Easton Essentials” t-shirts.
My principessa is loved. It made him happy to see her getting positive press.
The camera cut to Lex walking out onstage dressed in a black pantsuit, her long blonde hair pulled in a ponytail.
Poppy continued speaking into the camera while Lex found her way up stage. “As everyone knows, Easton Essentials is sold at all the major department stores and we’ll get to the fashion bit in a sec. But we’re more interested in the salacious rumor Lex is engaged to Prince Massimo Tittoni.”
The audience cheered louder.
“What?”
Massimo said out loud.
“You know, the hot royal in the Mediterranean. Meeeeeeow!” Poppy made a cat claw with her hand and motioned pawing movements toward the camera as she curled her lip. The TV showed Massimo shirtless on the beach.
We didn’t talk about marriage, not yet. Massimo could taste the sourness in his mouth returning. He’d wanted to talk about their future with Lex, but she’d remained focused on leaving.
“Right, ladies?” Poppy acknowledged the crowd.
Lex looked better than ever as she sat on the plum-colored sofa and Poppy hugged her. “How ya doin’?”
Massimo turned up the TV. He wasn’t going to miss this. He wanted to hear her voice.
“Thank you for having me here today, Poppy.” She waved out to the crowd with her left hand. Her black eye was covered in an opaque makeup. To viewers, her face spoke flawlessness, but he could see her pain.
“Girrrrl, bahfore we talk fashion, I wanna dish with yous.”
“Okay,” Lex replied, her tight smile giving away her nervousness to what questions the talk show host might ask.
“So, Daddy Eddie, who I knew and loved through his career, dies and leaves you and your mother with nothing. You two start this rockin’ clothing line, and you head off to Italy to buy the fabrics.” Poppy held up People Magazine. There was Massimo embracing Lex at The Fashion Ball on the cover. The title read, “Calm before the Storm”.
“The prince and you become fast friends. In those photos we showed our viewers at home, you two look smitten.” Then the camera pulled up a shot as they walked from the parking lot, his coat thrown over her face at the Milan Art Auction. “What the hell went on?”
Lex recited the events, speaking at a scripted pace. Poppy did a good job helping her along when she got stuck. The segment must’ve taped before Scilla and Ottavia confessed. Lex didn’t exude nervous TV jitters, but he could tell she’d rehearsed what she meant to say. My bella is a professional.
“Thank you, Lex, for coming here and sharing your story with us.” Poppy added, “We noticed no ring on your finger when you waved to the audience.” The show attendees sat on their chair edges, not a peep to be heard. “We have to know…are you engaged to the prince?”
