by Francis Ray
“Size shouldn’t matter, just as gender or age shouldn’t matter when judging merit. I might be a bit prejudiced, but the clothes these beautiful women are wearing are smart, sophisticated, and stylish. Don’t you think that all women deserve to step out looking their best and not settle because they couldn’t find what they were looking for?”
“I certainly do,” Catherine said.
“How about the models? Do they agree?” a woman sitting behind Catherine asked.
“What do you say, ladies?” Greg asked.
“It’s about time people realized a real woman has hips,” commented one.
“Don’t forget thighs,” added another.
A model wearing an oversized white blouse and slim pants stepped forward and said, “You were called fat and you’re clearly not. I am fat, and your clothes make me look and feel sexy. You might have to tie me down to get these clothes back.”
Everyone laughed. Dianne crossed to the woman and hugged her, then the rest of the models. Cameras flashed. The excited media converged on them.
“Don’t forget that raise,” Greg whispered to Alex just before he walked over to join her.
Alex smiled. “If any of you can make it, I’d like to buy all of you drinks at Callahan’s on Ninety-fifth.”
“Does that include the models?” one of them asked.
“Especially the models,” Alex said. “There’s a limo waiting downstairs for you as soon as you change.”
“Don’t anyone change until I can get some pictures.”
“Cicely,” Dianne said, laughing and hugging the beautiful, stylish woman who had spoken. “You came. Thank you.”
“I don’t ever want to close my mind to fashion.” Cicely looked at the models. “You’re right about the designs. I’d like to take some pictures, but not here. What’s this Callahan’s?”
“A bar.”
Cicely’s eyes lit up. “Perfect.”
Alex’s and Dianne’s gazes met. C. J. was going to have their heads.
* * *
Alex sent Dianne, Greg, and Catherine in the limo with the models. He and Luke took a cab so Alex could warn C. J. He’d had no problem with bringing the media and the models because he figured it would just be the usual scene. A photo shoot that would end up in the top fashion blog in the country was another matter. It wouldn’t fit his concept of Callahan’s being a bar where a man could drown his sorrow, talk sports, and not worry about what he wore. Women were allowed, but not required.
“C. J.,” he answered.
“Plans have changed, C. J. The fashion director of a magazine wants to photograph the models wearing Dianne’s designs in the bar.”
There was a long silence. “What’s the name of the magazine?”
“Fashion Insider.”
C. J. muttered a curse. “My mother and sister were in that magazine a couple of months back and haven’t stopped talking about it.”
“I’ll owe you for life.”
“And don’t think I’ll let you forget it.” The line went dead.
“Well?” Luke asked as Alex disconnected the call.
“He won’t toss us out; past that I’m not sure,” Alex said, sitting back in his seat.
* * *
Dianne was bouncing inside. Greg and the models were chattering away with Cicely. The models weren’t shy in talking about the scarcity of calls due to their size, and their thoughts on the fashion industry seeing size six as the cutoff for advertisement, print, and runway shows.
“We’re here,” Dianne said as the limo pulled up to the curb in front of Callahan’s.
Cicely stepped out after Dianne. She didn’t look pleased as she viewed the nondescript red-brick building. “I hope it’s better inside.”
“It is,” Dianne said, opening the door. “C. J. has a great place.”
“I’ll reserve judgment.” Cicely entered, her brow arched over dark eyes, followed by her photographer.
“Go with her,” Catherine urged. “I’ll hold the door for everyone else.”
Nodding her thanks, Dianne followed, keeping her worried gaze on Cicely. She was unpredictable and intelligent. She didn’t run with the pack, which made her a wild card and one of the most respected voices in fashion. She’d earned her respect. She had an uncanny ability to see possibilities for fantastic photographs in unusual locations. She’d worked with the best.
“Hi, Dianne.”
Dianne turned to greet C. J. She let out a small breath, pleased to see he wasn’t frowning at being descended upon in his bar. But he wasn’t smiling, either. Dianne quickly introduced everyone.
“A bit rustic, but this place has possibilities,” Cicely mused after the introductions were completed.
C. J.’s eyes narrowed. “Possibilities. It’s the best bar in the city.”
Cicely’s brow arched sharply. “You don’t get out much, do you?”
Eyes narrowed, C. J. stepped into her space. “You must not, either. A bar is more than a place to swig beer. Never mind the history of the place, the original wood from an eighteenth-century pub in London along with the railing. The floor is stained concrete so it takes whatever customers dish out, the lighting is old-world, and the bar is stocked with the best beer and liquor.”
“And if I want a cosmopolitan?” Cicely asked.
“Down the street. We make real drinks.”
Cicely glanced around. “Real drinks for the knuckle-dragging men.”
“Now, see here—”
“Clarence.”
C. J. froze like a deer in headlights, his head coming up, his eyes no less hard. Dianne turned to see an attractive woman in her midsixties in a white Versace suit that Dianne had longed for, but had felt she’d be unfaithful to Harrington for purchasing. The woman exuded elegance and wealth. She didn’t stop until she was standing between C. J. and Cicely, a small hand on both of their arms.
“Clarence, Cicely,” the woman greeted. “I couldn’t believe it when Alex called. I was shopping, but I had my driver bring me right over.”
“Clarence?” Cicely said, her tongue stuck in her cheek.
C. J. looked as if he wanted to explode. “Mother—”
“I forgot,” the woman quickly said, then spoke to Cicely in an aside. “He’s never liked his name nor forgiven us.”
“Mother, this is not the time or place,” C. J. told her.
His mother appeared a bit intimidated. “Whatever you say. I just wanted the chance to thank Cicely again. It was such an honor.”
“Well deserved,” Cicely said, then looked at C. J. “I call them as I see them.”
“You—”
“C. J.,” Alex interrupted, catching his friend’s arm. “Why don’t we get out of the way and let Cicely take her pictures.” C. J. resisted. He glared at Cicely.
Folding her arms, she smiled sweetly at him. “You have a problem with my guy shooting here?”
Dianne bit her lip, but kept quiet. It was C. J.’s call.
“Of course not,” his mother said. “You’d put his place on the map.”
C. J. shot his mother an annoyed look. She frowned at him in total bewilderment. “I like flying below the radar,” he said by way of explanation. He cut a glance at Alex’s hand on his arm, then at Dianne, and shook his head. “It wouldn’t bother me if you forgot to mention the name of the place.”
“Fair enough.” Cicely’s arms came to her sides. “I’ll leave your man-cave just as it I found it. Mrs. Callahan, thank you for stopping by. As always, you’re the epitome of style and elegance.”
Mrs. Callahan smiled her pleasure. “Thank you.”
Cicely faced Dianne. “Let’s get this done.”
Dianne was only too happy to move away. As she did so, she glanced over her shoulder and mouthed Thank you to C. J. He didn’t notice. His hard gaze was on Cicely.
* * *
Less than thirty minutes later, Cicely and her photographer were preparing to leave. She’d enlisted the all-too-willing help of several of the
men in the bar to pose with the models. Alex watched C. J., who watched Cicely. His easygoing friend was royally ticked. No one maligned his bar. If he hadn’t liked Dianne, he would have kicked them all out. He didn’t mince words.
His mother left shortly after she arrived. She’d finally understood that C. J. wasn’t pleased with any of them, and to stay wouldn’t help the family cause of getting him into the CEO’s seat. His family had always tended to walk easy around C. J., and even more so now. He held their livelihood and the fate of the company that had been in the family three generations in his unpredictable hands.
They didn’t understand what Alex, Sin, and Summer already knew—C. J. couldn’t be pushed, and despite his doing everything that might indicate differently, he valued and loved his family, and respected what they had accomplished. He’d run the company, but he wasn’t going to do it until he absolutely had to. He realized, like his father and his brother, that once he took that seat at his father’s desk, his life would be irrevocably changed. His carefree days would disappear.
“Thanks.” With his back against the bar, Alex sipped his tonic water. “Anytime you want to collect, let me know.”
Arms folded, one ankle crossed over the other, C. J. watched Cicely as Dianne and Greg walked them to the door. “That was one annoying woman.” Unfolding his arms, C. J. went behind the bar to draw a beer on tap.
“Is that why you weren’t able to take your eyes off her?” Alex slung a leg over a stool.
C. J. plopped the beer in front of Alex. “The package might be nice, but not the attitude.”
Alex picked up his beer and sipped. C. J. liked his women uncomplicated. “This means a lot to Dianne.”
C. J. braced his arms on the bar and shook his dark head. “You are such a goner.”
“She’s the one and only,” Alex confessed. There was no sense in denying the truth.
“I’d try to talk some sense into your head, but I can see it’s too late,” C. J. grunted. “At least she doesn’t giggle, and she has the good sense to like my bar.”
“I love your bar,” Dianne said, coming up to them to curve her arms around Alex’s neck, then kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you, C. J. Cicely plans to put the pictures up tonight on her blog. Her site gets thousands of hits.”
Alex came off the bar stool, his arm curving around Dianne. “Then we better get home and get the computer ready. I’ll tell the press to order their last drink, and get Luke and Catherine out of the pool room.”
“Greg is taking the models back to the studio to change, and then heading straight home,” Dianne told him. “All of us are anxious to see the pictures and read what Cicely has to say.”
“Figures she’d have a blog,” C. J. said. “She likes expressing her opinion. What the name of the site?”
Dianne hesitated. “Fashionista Diva in the House.”
“Figures.”
Chapter 15
As soon as they’d reached his apartment, Alex had gone straight to his office and booted up his computer. In seconds they were on Cicely’s blog site. Previous covers of Fashion Insider flashed on the screen. The outfits ranged from outlandish to stunning, but all had something in common.
“All of the models are thin,” Dianne murmured.
Alex caught her unsteady hand. “She liked the clothes.”
Dianne nodded. “I know, but…”
“No buts.” Alex came to his feet. “Let’s go get our share of the pizza before Luke and Catherine eat it all up.”
She was shaking her head before he finished. She slid into the seat he’d vacated. “I’m too nervous to eat.”
He swiveled the chair around so she faced him. “Give her time.”
“She really liked the clothes, didn’t she?” Dianne said, as if seeking reassurance.
Taking her hands, he pulled her upright. “She really did, and so will buyers and department stores. You and Greg will be knee-deep in orders.”
“And I can begin to pay you back,” she said, nibbling on her lower lip.
A frown flashed across his face. “Don’t worry about that.”
“No,” she said adamantly. “I’m going to carry my responsibility on this. I want to know I contributed to the success of D and A.” She glanced back at the computer screen, then gasped. “She posted! She posted!”
Grabbing Alex’s hand, Dianne took a seat.
“Luke. Catherine!” Alex yelled. “The blog is up.”
Her voice trembling, Dianne began to read the post.
I had the privilege this afternoon to be among the first to greet a new fashion design house that will quickly makes its mark in the industry.
Dianne swallowed, her hand trembling even more.
D&A of New York will cater to women the fashion industry sometimes chooses to ignore. D&A decided to change that in a fabulous way by creating designs for women of substance who demand style and quality. From the photographs, you can see that onetime top model Dianne Harrington and her partner, Alex Stewart, along with the artistic genius and flair of Greg Dickerson, have created clothes women of all sizes will love. But alas, these fabulous designs only come in sizes 18 to 22 for the moment. Seeing the fantastic models this afternoon reaffirmed my long-held opinion that a woman wearing the right clothes will look fabulous no matter what she weighs or where she is. Enjoy.
“Told you.” Alex pulled Dianne to her feet and hugged her; then it was Catherine’s and Luke’s turn.
“Do you think it would be appropriate if I blog and thank her?” Dianne asked.
“Good manners are always appropriate,” Catherine said. “Once you’re finished I’m going to leave a comment. I sent the women in the family the blog site so they’ll probably comment as well.”
“There’s already a comment,” Alex said, then read.
It’s about time. Where can I purchase?
They watched as more comments appeared.
Dianne reached for the phone and dialed. Greg answered on the first ring. “Greg, she loved us!”
“Count yourself lucky that you had the smarts to hire an artistic genius with flair,” Greg said with just the right amount of hauteur, then he laughed aloud.
Dianne laughed with him. “I do. I’ll see you at the studio in the morning. ’Night.” She hung up the phone. It rang almost immediately.
She picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“Where’s Alex?”
Her smile quickly faded. She looked at Alex.
“What is it?” Alex stepped closer.
She put her hand over the speaker. “I don’t think everyone is happy with Cicely,” she said, removing her hand and speaking into the receiver. “C. J.—” she began, but Alex took the phone from her.
“Lay it on me,” Alex said.
“I want to sue for defamation and slander,” C. J. spat.
If it had been anyone else, Alex would have laughed. “She didn’t say anything directly about the bar.”
“The hell she didn’t,” C. J. flared. “Didn’t you read the crack about a woman looking good no matter where she was.”
“I did, but she didn’t say Callahan’s. Besides if you decided to take legal action, the press would become involved and the notoriety you’ve always avoided will happen,” Alex pointed out.
“You mean I have to let her get away with slamming my bar?”
“She didn’t slam your bar.”
Dianne took the phone. “I’m sorry, C. J. You were trying to help us.”
“Not your fault. It’s hers. One day she’s going to regret her mistake. ’Night.”
Dianne replaced the phone. “He hung up. I’m sorry C. J.’s upset.”
“He’ll get over it. While you were talking, more comments came in.” Alex guided her into his chair. “People are asking about the designer. You’re on.”
* * *
Two hours later, Dianne was still on the computer. She’d only gotten up long enough to hug Catherine and Luke good-bye, and eat a couple of bites of pizza becaus
e Alex insisted. The response was overwhelming.
“Your designs hit a nerve,” Alex said from beside her. “Women don’t want to be thought less of because they have a different body shape. Nor should they be.”
Dianne shook her head. “If I hadn’t been fired, I never would have thought of them.”
Alex touched her arm. “Don’t sell yourself short. You could have shrugged off the women’s comments at the luncheon and just thought about yourself. You didn’t. You cared, and you did something about it.”
“With your help.”
His fingers squeezed. “We’re partners.”
Warmth rushed though her. “Without you—”
He pressed his index fingers against her lips. She suppressed the urge to bite, then pull him down onto the floor. “You did this. Never forget.”
He was her strength, but she was finally coming to realize that he wanted her to believe in herself just as much. If she wanted a future with him she had to be her own woman, and that meant facing her insecurities. “I think I want to start a blog and invite the readers here to join me and comment.”
“Sounds good. What are you going to call it?”
She smiled. “Fired for being too old and too fat.”
* * *
During the days that followed, the hits on Dianne’s blog grew. She knew such popularity would never have happened without Cicely’s post being the gateway to thousands of women. Women were outraged on her behalf. She wasn’t surprised to learn that other women had suffered discrimination on their jobs due to age or weight. They became TFTO, the too-fat, too-old crowd. Hearing other stories, she realized how blessed and fortunate she was to be able to channel her firing into something positive.
And it was all because of the man who held her in his arms each night when she fell asleep. Alex was her strength. No longer did she feel insecure or get that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when she talked about the reasons behind her firing. She was quickly learning that it was the best thing that could have happened to her.
