“I saw that you’ve done your research regarding various materials, and the silicon is nice as well. For women with only one breast removed, a cast is made of that breast and sits in the bra perfectly. Like a do-it-yourself kit. For those ladies such as yourself who’ve had both breasts removed, they simply order the bra size and dimensions they want, and the bra cast is created for them. I like that you even have specially designed padded bras for those that do not want a prosthetic at all, but can achieve a look of fullness under their clothing… Very nice, Ms. Jones…very nice indeed.” He finished his wine, then poured himself another glass. “The designs are edgy, classic, and sophisticated… some are even fanciful. You’ve done an exceptional job here.”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Rousseau.” She was certain she was blushing, turning a million shades of crimson. First, he knocked her down, but like a true gentleman, he reached for her hand, and helped her stand right back up.
“You’re welcome. Back to Victoria’s Secret for a moment. They do a breast cancer drive as well as ‘Pink Lingerie’ fashion shows for breast cancer awareness and fund raising. I know Katie would be particularly interested in seeing these. The fact that you are an accomplished model and have exhibited for them in some of their smaller, local shows in the past definitely bodes well for you. You may not have been a Victoria’s Secret Angel, but you were close enough to understand how they do things, and that can only assist you.”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Now.” He looked down at his watch, then back at her, his face serious. “Vicki can make money in her sleep. I trust her.” He tilted his head to the side then brandished a roguish grin, as if slipping into lurid fantasies. Taryn felt she was witnessing something private, something for their eyes only, but it showed out in his expression in a way he perhaps couldn’t hide. “She’s brought me two other deals that turned out to be quite lucrative. I’ve been branching out a bit more, finding talent.”
“Yes, I read something similar online.”
“Good, you did your research. I did mine on you as well. If I go to bat for you, and you fuck me over, you’ll be ruined, do you hear me?” His calm, matter-of-fact voice chilled her, while he still sat there with that ‘Daddy knows best’ smile on his face. That attitude pinched her nerves, twisted them, and yanked while she whirled in a state of shock.
Fucking Frenchman! Make a woman fall in love… then snatch her back into reality in one fell swoop…
“I get where you’re coming from.” She kept herself even and cool under the pressure, refusing to break into a sweat.
“Good, because I don’t give a shit who is smoking what, who is fucking who, and who is choking on their own cum. What I care about is who is making money, who is reliable, on time, and looks the part. You’re beautiful. You have a well-established reputation as well. Some of it is good, some of it not so much…” He shrugged. “You’re still fairly young; that will work in your favor. You’re also viewed as a wild card… difficult to deal with at times.” He fisted and unfisted his hands. “Lucky for me, I’m not trying to put you on a runway, though I’m not against the idea… We can talk more about that later. What I’m trying to do, Ms. Jones, is to help you, help me, help three… Vicki gets a cut.”
“Of course.”
“I understand you have a boyfriend?” he said with a sardonic lift of his brow. He snapped his fingers at her, impatiently asking for her portfolio while he dove head first in her private business.
“Uh, yes… but not sure what that has to do with this.” She handed it over while he laid it out on his desk and flipped through it.
“It means that if I propositioned you for a non-business related dinner, you’d be more inclined to decline.” He kept his eyes on the portfolio.
She smirked. “I walked right into that.”
“Yes.” He grinned, flipping quickly through her sketches, but with a keen eye. “You did.”
“You asked Vicki if I had a boyfriend?” she questioned as she slumped into her seat.
“No. I asked her if you were bisexual or at least bi-curious after looking at some of your more recent runway work.”
At this, Taryn burst out laughing, almost in shock at the man’s unbelievable nerve.
“She said she wasn’t certain, but that you had a man at home that was taking care of you quite nicely and she would never proposition you for such a thing. She refused to ask on my behalf, so I decided to do it myself. I can tell from your posture and facial expressions that you’re not interested. Now that that is off the table, we can get back to this right here.” He didn’t appear the least bit irritated nor disturbed by her lack of interest. “I want you in my office first thing next week, on Tuesday at ten a.m. I will have the re-designs finished and we will then proceed with the meeting with Victoria’s Secret. I have no doubt that they will give your designs a test run and, should they do well, we will then speak with the American Cancer Society, National Breast Cancer Awareness, and put in a call to Angelina Jolie to see if she has any interest in assisting with advertising…”
The man continued to speak, talking matter-of-factly, on and on as if the shit was already a done deal. She sat there hearing him, but her body grew numb in fucking amazement.
…Oh my God. This is really happening. I am really sitting in Jules Rousseau’s office, one of the best fashion designers in the entire damn world! The man is talking about all these heavy hitters and putting his money and team behind it… Oh… my…God!
“…And then of course it will need to be economical for the everyday buyer so we will get a hold of some of the other distributors—but it can’t be cheaply made; the fabric must be quality and craftsmanship fairly decent… I’ll give a heads up to Macy’s once the details are worked out,” he continued on, looking down at his watch a time or two more, and then, he concluded.
“So, it’s settled.” He rose to his feet, straightened out his jacket, and extended his hand for a shake. She gave a hearty one, the kind her father taught her how to do from a very young age. “I will see you next week.”
“Yes, see you next week and thank you so much, Mr. Rousseau.”
“You can call me Jules after we complete this deal.” He smiled coyly.
“Okay. I’ll do just that.” She smiled back and turned to walk away, almost floating off the damn ground.
“…Nice shoes,” his deep voice rumbled.
She paused, looked down at the things. She’d had a rare moment in time—didn’t know what to wear, so she’d consulted Nick. She’d lamented over her outfit for the meeting for quite some time, and finally threw in the towel. So, reaching in the recesses of their shared bedroom closet, he’d pulled out a navy blue pair with four inch silver heels. She’d created her outfit around them—a navy blue sheer blouse and slacks in the same color, along with silver accessories…
Thanks Nick! She laughed inside.
“Thank you, Mr. Rousseau… my man at home, as you referred to him, chose them for me.”
“Well, he has good taste… in more ways than one…”
The sharp corner of the vibrant green, apple-flavored jolly rancher scraped against the roof of his mouth. He wrestled with the thing, debating on spitting it out, but he enjoyed the flavor, all the same.
“Nick,” Officer Kennedy said, approaching him. “I need some papers put away for me… Can you help?”
He looked the fucker in the face and wanted to strangle him. He had no beef with Kennedy, but the way he said the words, as if he was now the town flunky, made him swallow the slice of candy left in his mouth to cover up the words he wanted to blurt.
“Yeah…” He sighed, got to his feet and followed Kennedy over to his desk. The guy moved about, wearing his uniform just right, creating deep wells of envy in Nick’s heart as they made the jaunt.
“Hey, you want some coffee first?” Kennedy hitched his thumb towards the break room. “I thought I’d get me a cup.”
Nick shrugged.
“If you want, makes me no difference.”
He put his hands on his hips and looked around the place, recognizing it, but suddenly feeling as if he was trying to jam his oval shaped ass into a square shaped slot.
“Well, come on with me. I want to ask you a few things… get your advice.” At this, Nick perked up.
Maybe it’s about the case… Kennedy is on that. He might want to pick my brain…
His face cracked with a slight grin at the possibility, but he kept his feet on the doubtful, just in case he was let down once again.
Kennedy opened the break room door, and the place was filled with bastards hooping and hollering while Captain O’Sullivan stood amongst them, a big grin on his rosy-cheeked face. On the table sat a big, fancy white cake with ‘Welcome Back Nick’ scrolled across it, some shiny, red plastic cups, and blue and white balloons…
Looks like rehab graduation…
He smirked.
“Congrats, Nick! You’re back in! You get your beat back, bastard!” His boss screamed, causing others to blow party horns and throw skinny pieces of colorful paper around the room.
“Awwww, man! Are you for real?!” He grinned real wide as he stepped to the man, taking him in an earnest embrace.
“Yes, I’m definitely serious. You’ve certainly earned it. You’ve done well, no complaints or griping, and you’ve helped, done what you were supposed to do. The board agreed to let you have your beat back. You start first thing tomorrow.”
He released the man, looked him up and down, then bear hugged the hell out of him, causing an outburst of laughter.
“Oh, he been complain’, Captain! His mouth wasn’t moving, but best believe Vitale was complaining!” someone shouted, causing more laughter to dance about the room.
“Thank you everybody!” Nick shouted as he grabbed a plate and fork. “You won’t regret it!”
“Yeah, yeah… we’ll see. Cut your cake, Nick! Some of us have work to do!”
“Saks Fifth Avenue will be next,” Vicki stated on the other end of the phone.
“I can’t believe the meeting today.” Taryn shook her head in disbelief as she paid the taxi driver and stepped out of the cab, her phone cradled to her ear. She looked at the facility before her—the building that had once housed shoe and purse repair equipment that would soon be turned into her new sewing factory from which to manufacture her designs. “Everything went so well.”
“Of course it did. There is a need for this, and you somehow made the almost unbearable sexy. Now look, check out the building real well. I haven’t seen it yet, but it has three floors and should be a good start. Jules has guys ready to start after the renovations.”
“Vicki, how in the hell did they get a spot on 34th street, though?!”
“Don’t worry about that…”
“No, wrong damn answer.” She shifted her weight, dug in her pocket and on a sigh, removed the key from her pocket. “I just signed a contract giving Jules twenty percent of my company based on simple projection and you receive six percent for five years. That’s fine; trust and believe, I am totally okay with that, but I am not one of these bimbos that is so happy for an opportunity that I piss away common sense. Now, how the hell did he make this happen?” She stepped inside, and immediately begun to cough. “Jesus! It’s dusty as hell in here!”
“It’s old… the rent is too high. Everything is out of date. They wanted you next to the retailers your lingerie would be in and they worked it out. All of that mess you see will be taken care of. When you walk in there next month, it will look like an entirely new place… Speaking of which, you’ll need a sign. Have you thought of a name?”
Taryn’s lips twisted in a satisfied grin.
“I’m still working on that…”
“Well, hurry. It takes a while and we need it on your paperwork. As it stands, we only have your legal name… You’re already way behind the curve ball. Get it together.” And with that, Vicki disconnected the call.
Taryn turned around in circles to survey the place. She looked at the long narrow windows, could barely see out of them due to all the dark gray dust and dirt. She’d walked past the place her entire life, and had never taken much notice of it. It was a tiny, odd, tall, and awkward building, yet, simply perfect for her.
She made to exit the building, prepared to make a jaunt over to Ali Baba restaurant, being in the mood for some Turkish food. As she made her way out of the place and locked the door, she stopped short when the phone rang. Raising it to her ear, she answered but before she could ask how he was doing and give him the play-by-play updates she was certain he wanted, the man blurted, “Baby, I’m back… they put me back on!”
She burst out laughing. “Nick, why do you sound surprised, baby? Of course they would! Congratulations. We’ll have to celebrate.”
She looked across the street and took notice of a police officer driving past, his arm hanging lazily out the side of his window.
“Hey, what are you doing right now?”
“Nothing but stuffing my mouth with cake… I’d prefer to be tasting your pussy.”
A light, airy laugh escaped her lips as she tilted her head back, causing her curls to fall while she ran her fingers across the back of her neck.
“You wanna hook up for lunch? I’m on 34th street.”
“Yeah, wait…what time is it?”
“11:32…”
“Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem… Are you at your new spot? What do you think of it?”
“We can discuss that when I see you… Oh, and put on your uniform.”
“Why? What are you up to?”
“Just do it. See you in a bit, Officer Vitale…”
Nick walked the streets like a son of a bitch in complete and utter charge! His swag was amped up five thousand degrees, burning a hole in the damn cement. Chin held high, he moved about the crowd of people as they dispersed from his pending approach. Though mixtures of music played and the city drone sung low and hard, he imagined that with each step he took, Wu-Tang Clan was rapping, ‘C.R.E.A.M.’ He dared to admit, he’d missed that shit. The way people would suddenly be on their best behavior when he perused Manhattan—the one spot he’d hated as a kid, that reminded him of all the shit he didn’t have. But now, he felt the magic of the place, embraced it up close and personal.
“There she is…” he whispered aloud, his lips kinking into a gratified smirk. He crossed at the walkway, his navy blue short-sleeved shirt, matching pants, and heavy black work shoes in tow. His hat set on his head just right, and his air of confidence he hoped would prove fucking contagious; the shit simply needed to be shared. “Hey baby…” He said, easy-go-lucky, as he reached for the flower standing there wearing a pink and brown striped jumpsuit, short hair brushed back from her face. “I don’t have much time, but definitely wanted to see you… even for just a little bit.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss. He pressed his mouth into hers as he surrounded her with the warmth of his embrace.
“Mmm, you smell good.” She winked at him. “And you taste like frosting.” She flicked her tongue back and forth, causing his dick to salute.
“Let me show you the new place.” She took his hand, leading the way, and they walked quietly, pacing themselves.
He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face; he had to store this moment as one of the best days ever…
I’m watching my baby’s dreams come true… I’ve got my job back… I’m sober… Life is fuckin’ good!
She released his hand, leaving him suddenly lonely, wanting her touch to return. The warmth was replaced with coolness along his palm, and in that instant, he realized things only felt perfect when she was close by. As she unlocked and opened the door, he grimaced, refusing to let his concern stay bottled within.
“What in tha hell is this? Baby, this place is a mess! In this part of Manhattan?!” He stepped over the threshold and looked from left to right. “I thought this Jules guy was top notch!”
“He is.” She rolled her eyes at him as she moved
through an array of old cardboard boxes piled up high like skyscrapers, threatening to collapse upon her. “But I wanted more control over the company, so I had to make some concessions. Please don’t underestimate this place though, Nick. Look at where it is… look at the potential.” She outstretched her arms and spun about, a smile on her face as if she were dancing in the center of the Taj Mahal. The dust bellowed around her, swirling higher and higher as she made dirty, black magic… He was officially seduced.
Damn…
She started to move to an imaginary rhythm, dancing to some unheard beat.
I’m going to help her out…
Digging in his pocket, he pulled out his mp3 player and set it atop a dust covered counter. The girl was gone though…in her own world.
He pushed play…
Lavell Evans’ ‘So Intoxicated’ began to play…
He simply stood there, overdosing on her beauty and happiness as the music lulled their souls closer and closer…
I thought my happiness was contagious, yeah… and so is hers. We can be contagious together.
She didn’t pause, didn’t break free, just danced… and danced… and danced to the beat, now snapping her fingers.
So he, too, fell into the lyrics as the music embraced them, making the two addicts drunk off one another:
I’m losing all my control and I can’t think clearly…
I’m faded, head in the clouds, yeah…
…No, I don’t need no alcohol to get a buzz tonight, ’cause I’m tipsy off of lovin’ you…
Girl, your body O.D., fine like wine… Every time I take sip from your fountain…
Your lovin’ got me faded… Girl, I’m so intoxicated…
She slowly opened her eyes and waltzed to him, her hips swaying to the music. He went to unbutton his shirt, but she shook her head and mouthed, “No…”
He stood there, letting her have her way as she sashayed down, down, down until she had his zipper in her hand, her partial reflection placing shadows and light on it. She ignored his pants button, and focused a bit lower, gripping the zipper, pulling it down, exposing his white boxer shorts through the slit of his pants. His breath hitched.
In the Nick of Time Page 57
