Style (Dressing a Billionaire Book 2): A Romantic Comedy

by Jamie Lee Scott

  “So back to the million. If we stayed clean and sober, maybe not perfectly sober, but drug free through college, they’d give us a cool million to start our lives. That was the end of their financial commitment to us.”

  This took me by surprise. “Whoa, way to cut the apron strings.”

  Hugo continued, “My parents are brilliant. They didn’t raise dependent weaklings, they raised us to go out and fight for what we wanted. If they allowed us to live under their umbrella, we’d never be able to stand on our own and handle the stress of making a living.”

  “Okay, so you got the measly million…” I wanted to hear the rest of the story, but my mind wanted to get back to my own business, and how I could make my own million.

  “I know a million sounds like a lot to most people, but in our world, it may as well have been a minimum wage job.” Oh please, minimum wage, way to milk a sob story.

  He reached across the seat and touched my hand. “Ever heard the saying, ‘You can’t become a billionaire with minimum wage work ethic?’”

  I shook my head, because, of course, I wasn’t familiar with billionaire problems, but still I reveled in the feel of Hugo’s skin on mine.

  “They wanted us to work for it. They wanted us to find our true passion and learn to make a living. So Stella and I pooled our money and started our tech business.” He lifted his hand and pointed out the window. “See that skyline?”

  I looked. “Yep. I can see it just fine.”

  “I own all of that. One of the buildings houses the tech company Stella and I started with our seed money. Twin Pops Tech. We’ve never gone back to our parents for anything. And we’re one launch from being billionaires.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. His story hit me like a baseball bat. I’d failed my parents. A hundred grand for a college education, and I’d crawled back home. Needing help.

  “Look, I made a great living in California. I needed a break. I haven’t asked my parents for a dime, and I won’t. I’m only staying at home until I get my feet firmly on the ground. I’ll pay my way. My parents won’t be disappointed.” Tears welled in my eyes. “But thanks for picking me up to point out my epic failure.”

  Hugo grabbed my hand. “No, oh shit, no. That’s not what I meant you to get from my story. I only told you so you’d see how much this product launch means to me. It’s everything Stella and I have worked for. I’m sorry if you thought…I’m sorry.”

  “There’s a sting that comes from hearing the truth, and I heard a truth about my life in your story.” I hiccupped to keep from sobbing.

  “You’re going to do fine. With the fashion and people-reading skills you possess, you’ll thrive. And you don’t need to be in L.A. to do it.” He now had his fingers laced in mine, but from the back of my hand.

  Thinly, I said, “Thanks.”

  “I’m obsessed. Okay? The hair, the beard, the lack of style? It’s all because I wanted to hide from society and live in my virtual world. The watch will launch, and I’ll have made my dreams come true. Stella is a fabulous graphic artist with a flair for electronics, and together we made something we can be proud of. Several things, in fact, but many of them aren’t readily visible to the average population. I’m not bragging, but Facebook, Google, and several other well-known companies thrive off software and code that I developed. I told you, I’m obsessed. Ask Kelsey.”

  That hung in the air like a soggy wet tampon.

  Yeah, I’m right on it. If she changed her number and you couldn’t reach her, how the hell would I?

  “So all of this bragging is leading to?” I couldn’t help but feel distanced from him.

  He and Stella were about to be billionaires. Whoop, whoop! Good for them. His story left me flat, other than to see my own failures.

  Timmy pulled the Bentley up in front of a downtown high-rise. I hadn’t paid attention to the street we’d turned onto. He stopped the car and got out to open my door.

  Before stepping out, I looked at Hugo with a frown.

  “Twin Pops,” he said with a huge smile. Alright already.

  Four security guards stood outside the entrance, but stepped aside as Timmy, Hugo and I approached. Another man opened the door from the inside and held it as we entered the building.

  Nondescript in its white walls. No receptionist, no glass walls. It reminded me of an empty theater entrance. Timmy placed a key in the wall outlet and an elevator opened.

  Hugo and I stepped into the elevator car. Timmy remained in the entrance hall. “Call me when you’re ready for me to drive you back.”

  The doors closed and I turned to Hugo. “What the hell is going on?” Did he have more bragging in store?

  “I wanted to go running, but it’s too damned hot outside. So I thought maybe we could work out together. I have only a few hours before I need to be back in the office. We aren’t working at the house anymore, we’re working here.”

  “I told you I don’t have time for this,” I snapped, pissed he’d been wasting my time.

  “But yet you put on running shoes and came with me.”

  He had a point.

  When the elevator opened, we entered a state-of-the-art exercise facility. The most modern equipment I’d ever seen. A row of Pelaton exercise bikes, half a dozen treadmills with what looked like virtual reality goggles resting on their dashboards, heavy bags, weightlifting equipment, a wall with a ballet barre, you name it. And the room stood silent and empty.

  “I cleared the schedule, so we could work out together—”

  I opened my mouth to protest.

  “You can do whatever you want. And I’ve got a personal trainer on call, if you want someone to help you get started.” No surprise there.“I’m not patient enough to train someone myself.” He walked over to the treadmills. “You can walk or run in whatever environment you like.”

  I raised my brows. “These look really cool.”

  “Stella’s invention. My innovation. We own the patent.”

  Jeez, these Twin Pops are geniuses all around. I almost rolled my eyes, but the treadmills were too sweet to dismiss. I stepped on one and grabbed the handles.

  The fucker blurted out my current weight, body mass index, and percentage of body fat. No way in hell am I repeating the numbers. I jumped off the treadmill.

  “What the hell was that? Other than embarrassing?”

  “State of the art. I told you. There’s so much more.” He stepped on his and it responded, “Hello, Hugo, I’ve missed you.” So, the exercise machines kiss his billionaire butt, too.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I said. “For real, though, totally impressed.”

  He started walking. “Want to go for a run together?”

  “Nope.”

  “Seriously. You can walk, and I can run, and we’ll be side by side. And soon we’ll be running together.”

  I stood, glaring at Hugo. “Are you saying I’m fat?” It sounded like he had a problem with my weight and abilities.

  He stepped off the back of the treadmill and walked up to me. I forgot my treadmill had started moving under me, and I stopped walking. And promptly slid off the back. If Hugo hadn’t caught me, I’d have landed with my face on the rolling belt of the treadmill. And the genius machine would’ve laughed at me.

  His arms wrapped tight around my waist, he said, “Are you okay?”

  “Physically, yes. But my ego may have suffered permanent damage.” I wiggled a bit, so he’d let go of me.

  I stood looking at the death contraption, thinking, He wants me to get back on that thing, doesn’t he?

  “If I ever gave you the impression I thought you’re fat, I’m sorry. We talked about running, and I’m tired of running alone, or with my trainer, and I thought maybe we’d run together. This way, you start at your own pace, and me at mine and yet we can still run together.” He shrugged. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are, by the way.”

  I didn’t know about that, but he made a good point. “You know I can
’t come into the city and run whenever I feel like it. And this is your building, with your armed guards outside. So I can’t drop by at any hour and say, ‘Hugo said I can use the gym.’”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, you can.” Silly me to think otherwise.

  I sat down on the side of the treadmill, avoiding the tread, so it wouldn’t scream out my weight again, or laugh that I nearly fell off. “Why did you cancel Vegas?”

  He sat on the edge of his treadmill, facing me. “Last night I got caught up in the moment. Wanting to make overnight changes, wanting to avoid coming back to reality. In the morning, after you caught me singing in the shower, I realized I couldn’t. I sat up in bed, after you fell asleep, and realized I couldn’t run. So many people’s lives depend on me being dependable. I run this company. Stella is a partner, but I’m the CEO and President. If I flake, it would halt the watch release and people could lose jobs.”

  “When you put it like that,” I said.

  “I’ve shared more with you than anyone outside my inner circles. No one knows about the real history of our family and how a social worker found Stella and me in a filthy apartment with our mother passed out from a meth fallout. How our parents took us in as foster kids, and my biological mom tried to extort money from them. I tell you this because I don’t want any secrets. Kelsey knew I’d been adopted. But she didn’t know why or how. Maybe because we met when we were so young, and at the time I didn’t remember my previous life. I learned a lot of this when I was older. I think her finding out may be what killed her love for me.” That’s weird and shallow of Kelsey, and now I hated her more. “After many years together, she and Stella went out drinking, and Stella blabbed it all.”

  I listened, looked at him as he looked around the room. “Maybe it hurt her feelings that she had to hear it from Stella and not you.”

  He didn’t admit that it might’ve been true. “Anyway, I canceled the Vegas trip because I’m a grown up, and I can’t jet off on a whim. Not like Stella does.” He stood. “Now, are we going to run?”

  I covered my ears as I stood up and got back on the tattletale. I didn’t want to hear the numbers again. “Can’t you turn the volume down on this thing?”

  “There’s a built-in music player, and the Bose headphones are on the side. Noise canceling. Put those on before you step on the belt, and only you’ll hear the numbers.”

  “You couldn’t have told me about those before this contraption embarrassed the hell out of me?” I winked and put the headphones on.

  The treadmill asked me what kind of music I’d like to listen to. I said aloud, “Classic rock.” Tom Petty’s “American Girl” gradually tuned into my headphones.

  I could get used to this. But I didn’t dare.

  Hugo reached across and tapped me on my shoulder, scaring the shit out of me, and making me grab the handrails to keep from falling. I pulled the headphone off one ear.

  “Rain check on Vegas?”

  I smiled, but didn’t answer. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Hugo sure did go out of his way to be endearing. And I hated him for it. Stella had made it clear she was done with me, so clinging to Hugo looked desperate. And may hurt my chances of ever getting Stella back as a client.

  He half-smiled and went back to running.

  Did he know he had me? Hook, line, and tight butt?

  Chapter Four

  Someone I hadn’t met yet came in and whispered in Hugo’s ear. He stopped his treadmill and got off. “Give me a sec, I’ll be right there.”

  I heard him only because I’d moved my earphone off my ear a few minutes earlier. I looked over.

  “Hey,” he said, then waited.

  I stopped my death machine and took off the Bose headset. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve got to go. Emergency. You can stay and play as long as you like. And I’ll get you set up with security, so you can come here to workout whenever you want.”

  “That’s great, thanks,” I said facetiously. “Do I need to call ahead?”

  “Only if you want the place to yourself. And then you’ll need to give fifteen minutes’ notice as a courtesy.” He grabbed a towel from a nearby rack.

  “I’d never kick anyone out,” I protested. And, more importantly, I’d put those noise-canceling buggers on immediately to avoid embarrassment in front of total strangers.

  “You’ll have executive status, so if you choose, you can.” He stepped up on my treadmill and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for running with me. I didn’t want to run alone.”

  “Yeah, it was great. So glad we could have this forty-five-minute conversation. We learned so much about each other,” I couldn’t stop the flippant tone.

  “Yeah, me too.” He grinned, and I melted.

  “Timmy’s outside, whenever you’re ready to go home. Thanks again.” He walked out of the gym, and I watched his tight butt as he did.

  “Shit, I need to run more. I want an ass like that,” I said under my breath.

  The treadmill responded, “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand. Could you repeat that?” Not so smart, after all.

  I nearly collapsed with laughter. I’d bet everything said and done in this place was recorded somehow. I’d have to talk to myself silently.

  I looked at my phone, and Orlean still hadn’t responded to my text. But I did have several other text messages from numbers I didn’t recognize.

  Holy shit, DerekGattis from the Dallas Cowboys sent me a text message. Stella P gave me your number. Call me. He left his number, as if I wouldn’t have it from the text.

  At first I thought maybe he wanted to meet me. Then I realized if he got my number from Stella, it had to be business related. Bummer. And yet not because I may have another client.

  True to her word, Stella could put me on the Texas map. Now I had to make her look good by being a great stylist and business woman. Hugo’s story gave me hope. I didn’t have a million dollars, but almost as good, I had Stella as a reference. I guess I just had to make up with her now, apologize for our misunderstanding, or rather, her accusation.

  I needed a shower, because I’d actually broken a sweat, but I jogged to the elevator and out to the awaiting Bentley, so there’s that. I could say I’d gone running if anyone asked.

  “Home please, Timothy.” Yeah, I wasn’t calling him Timmy with Hugo absent.

  I leaned my head back on the cushy leather seat and closed my eyes. I had so much work to do. I screamed inside, I HAVE TWO, COUNT THEM, TWO POSSIBLE CLIENTS!

  I opened my eyes to be sure I hadn’t let anything slip out for real. Timmy watched the road, not me. Good. I closed my eyes again until I heard Timmy’s voice.

  “Miss Maisy, you’re home.”

  I sat up. “Thanks so much. I’m sorry for the extra work.”

  He looked in the rearview mirror. “Not a problem.” But he didn’t get out and offer to open my door.

  I opened my own door and wondered if this lack of respect showed how he felt about me spending time with Hugo. But when I closed the door, the driver faded from my mind, and Derek Gattis slid in.

  The rest of the weekend flew by in a blur. I called Derek’s number as soon as I got in the house. It turned out to be his manager’s number, but in this case, all the same. Derek, being a rookie, hadn’t quite learned the fine art of dressing like a real man, so his manager got in touch with me via Stella. Derek had been talking with Stella at the gala, and had his manager contact me.

  So nice to have a willing client, and not one stuck in a self-loathing rut. Derek’s manager set up an appointment for his client, and I was told to meet him at his condo on Monday morning.

  I spent the entire weekend brushing up on my men’s fashion education. Hugo being the slam dunk he was, because I could put him in a bath towel and he’d look better than he did dressed, didn’t give me any recent experience. I’d learned a little from Marla, but she hated working for men, so I pulled out my books and logged on to the ‘net and read and clicked and scrolled until my eye
s grew heavy.

  Periodically I’d check my phone, but nothing took my attention from the pressing task at hand.

  Late Sunday night, my mom popped in.

  “You still alive? You’ve barely been out of your room this weekend.” She walked in and sat on my bed.

  I stopped scrolling the article I’d been reading. “I’m great, Mom. I’m preparing for a client meeting on Monday.”

  She wiggled her brows. “Another Popovits?”

  I couldn’t keep the excitement from my voice. “A Dallas Cowboy.”

  She popped up off the bed and came over to look at my computer. “Who? Are you researching him?”

  “Derek Gattis. He’s a rookie. Or was last year. I already researched him. Now I’m brushing up on my men’s fashion.” I pointed to all of the notes I’d taken and photos I’d printed out.

  “Impressive. He’s that young, cute one.” she said.

  “There’re a lot of cute young guys on the team.” I frowned at her.

  “Everyone has their own fashion tastes, and maybe he won’t like what you picked.” She flipped through the pictures I’d printed off. “Maybe you’ll get a boyfriend out of it.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom.”I thought back to how Kelsey’s family didn’t approve of Hugo’s heritage. “But I don’t want a boyfriend right now. I have too much to do. I can’t afford to get distracted.”

  “Whatever. I hope he loves your taste. And I hope you make him look like a gazillion bucks.” She slapped the pictures back on the desk. “Your livelihood depends on it. And the young ballplayers tend to have better social lives, so your work will get more coverage.”

  I smiled at that. I didn’t know much about the social lives of football players, but I’d like to know more. I thought about how cool it would be to be seen with Derek in a store together. He did attract the photogs. Maybe people would think we’re dating. Who’s this new girl? the headlines would read. And I laugh all the way to the bank. Or look like a slut, because I’d just been snapped kissing Hugo.