by Piper Lawson
I stepped in after him, waiting until we’d closed the door behind us to turn around.
It looked like a production of Kinky Boots that had been sprinkled with shimmery fairy dust. My eyes were drawn to the merchandise, not the space. Around us were no more than two dozen pairs of shoes, each given more breathing room than the average business passenger on a trans-continental flight. I crossed the floor to lift a shoe that was so sparkly it nearly blinded me.
“How much bling can one foot hold?”
Ethan came up behind me. “Apparently one thousand crystals.” He flashed his phone at me, which held a picture and description of the shoe I was eyeing up.
I turned the shoe over. “Why would you put them on the bottom?” The crystals crusted the sole, reaching around the toe of the high-heeled sandals.
“Because you can.”
I glanced at the price tucked discreetly under the shelf tag. “What? They’re six thousand dollars.” I looked around the store. “Wait, if these shoes are six grand, how much is this place?”
He named a price that had my jaw on the floor. “But I think I can get ten percent off on a two-year lease.”
“So I’d only need to sell one kidney? Where are the other two stores?”
“Right up the block. One used to be a Ralph Lauren—”
“Ethan.”
“—and the other was—”
“Ethan!”
“What?” he asked as I came to a stop in front of him. “These are the best properties in town.”
I stared into his incredulous face. “We’re three years in. We’re covering our expenses, and we just managed to scrape together enough cash for this store. Do you even know what kind of clothes we make?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Girly clothes?”
I popped up a window on my phone and went into the Travesty site. The hot pink banner with black lettering gave me a little rush every time, but today was about proving a point.
My fingers scrolled down the site, and rows of tops, skirts, and shorts appeared. Our fall preview included a jacket and some new tights.
I felt Ethan step close, peering over my shoulder.
“Cute.” His breath was light on my cheek.
“The point is, we don’t make six thousand dollar shoes, Ethan. We make street clothes. Did you even read the briefing we put together?”
He winced. “Got me.”
Irritation overtook everything else as I jammed my phone back in my pocket, spinning to face him.
“I don’t understand,” I said, my voice sharp. “Why would you go to the effort of lining these up if they’re completely wrong? If you don’t give a shit about our work, you probably have better things to do. And I know I do.”
I was overreacting, but I couldn’t keep my cool. The way he assumed everything was his way. He was damned impossible.
I waited for him to yell back. To tell me I could find another realtor.
Instead he folded his arms across his chest, a new glint in his eye. “I never said I didn’t take it seriously. You want the status quo, you can go home. This isn’t a city you come to to blend in. This is where you come when you want to stand out.”
“Thanks, Tony Robbins,” I grumbled. “But what I want is a boutique. One that will make us money. Which requires a conservative plan.”
“Then that’s not the brief I read. The one sitting on your kitchen counter. One growth scenario was especially compelling. You’re way more ambitious than I gave you credit for.”
I stiffened as his words rang through me. “That wasn’t a brief. It was some calculations. I was screwing around.”
“It didn’t look that way. It looked like a robust financial analysis.”
“Of best-case scenarios. We need to work from a worst-case scenario.” I could feel the heat rise up in me. I’d been playing with some numbers, because my relationship with numbers is far better than my relationship with people. This store was my chance to put Travesty on a way bigger map, and a stepping stone to going global. But the truth was I’d been working on two tracks—the conservative cover-our-asses version, sure, but also a more aggressive version. Somehow Ethan had found the document I’d been working up for the past few weeks and hadn’t shown to either Lex or Ava.
Something dinged, and Ethan glanced at his phone. His low chuckle sent prickles down my arms.
He held out the phone, and I squinted at the picture. “Is that an iceberg?” I asked.
“Keep scrolling. This is what my client ordered for his party this weekend.”
“Aren’t those endangered?” I’ve seen a lot of shit, but the pictures in front of me made my jaw drop.
“That, Jordan from Jersey, is LA style.” Ethan took the phone back, and his fingers brushed mine. He looked at me thoughtfully, and I was instantly suspicious. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Why?”
“I am Willy Wonka and you’re about to get your golden ticket. If you want to succeed in this town, you need an education. And I’m going to give it to you.”
Could he be any more arrogant?
My eyes rested on him for a beat. “Thanks for the offer. But why don’t I look for properties that are more our speed. Have fun at your iceberg party.”
The surprise flickering across his face was gone as fast as it’d come. “I always do.”
6
Jordan
“Jordan.”
I glanced up from my phone, shifting on my Starbucks stool. The guy standing in front of me looked like he’d stepped out of a California billboard, and my face melted into an easy smile.
“Kent. Can I get you a drink?”
“Nah, I’m good. Still hyped on caffeine from the drive.”
I’d met Dylan’s friend and college roommate once before during a trip he’d taken to New York, namely because he’d agreed to help keep an eye on the merchandising for the LA boutiques that carried Travesty’s clothes. That meant checking the boutiques to make sure things were displayed right and that the stores were happy.
Whatever he did, his bi-weekly trips from San Diego into the city seemed to keep things running smoothly. Probably because the girls took one look at him and said yes to whatever he suggested.
I shifted off the stool, grabbing my coffee as I started toward the door. “I appreciate you meeting me.”
“No worries. I was due to make a trip in.” He held the door for me. “Reve’s just a couple blocks away, so we can walk.”
“Great.”
We settled into step beside each other.
“Any luck finding a location?”
“Day one was a bust.” I told him about the ones Ethan had shown me yesterday. “I do have something for you though.”
I rummaged around in my purse and pulled out a card.
“This is for everything you’ve done for us. Looking after the stores. I get how much work it is to keep tabs on retail. It’s pretty thankless. So I guess this is a thank you.”
He worked open the enveloped and pulled out the card. I watched his face as he opened it to find the gift card. Kent’s blue eyes went round.
“No way. Are you fucking kidding?”
“I heard it was the best surf store in town. Figured you might be able to find something there. Whenever you get time between checking on boutiques for friends of friends.”
“This is way too much.”
I glanced over his shoulder. “Nope. That looks about right.”
I’d signed it from the three of us, but it’d been my idea, and I’d paid for it. I knew how much work he did for us. We couldn’t have kept things going without him.
Ken beamed, and I knew it’d been the right move.
“So you’ve been here, what, two days? What have you gotten up to?”
“Mostly work,” I admitted. My apartment looked like a second office, with files spread out over the table. Takeout boxes were already filling up my recycling bin.
Yesterday afternoon I’d pored over the real estate
listings, determined to prove Ethan wrong. I’d turned up zero properties that might be a good fit. Everything was expensive, which I knew, but when we’d originally scoped it there had been way more listings.
I wasn’t ready to admit to Ethan I couldn’t do it myself. But if I cut loose from him by going to another realtor, I’d have to explain to Ava how I’d lost it on her brother within a day of meeting him.
Which I wasn’t prepared to do, because she’d find that fact endlessly amusing.
“Wait a second.” Kent interrupted my thoughts. “You come all the way here to sit inside and do what you’d been doing in New York?”
“So far.”
“You ever surf, Jordan?”
“Nope.”
“You wanna go?”
My heart rate picked up. The one time I’d visited California with Lex and Ava, I’d gotten caught up in some drama with one of my dad’s companies and ended up missing our single beach day.
“I’d love to. But I really need to get this store figured out first. Maybe I’ll have better luck hiring a manager. We advertised back in New York and I lined up candidates to interview here.”
“Sure. Once you do that, pick a day. But not Tuesday or Thursday, I have class.” He scratched his head. “And also Monday. So yeah. Pick another day.”
“Done.” I forced myself to focus on the task at hand, realizing we’d be at Reve soon. “So anything else I need to know about Taylor? I know she has four boutiques in LA. And she’s finalizing her orders for fall.”
“Right. I guess she’s like you guys. Independent, knows what she likes.”
“Then we’ll get along great.”
Taylor was our top retailer in LA. I wanted to take this opportunity to meet her, and thank her, and see if there was anything we could do to improve her experience.
And if she wanted to buy more of our shit.
Kent reached for the handle of a door, and I stepped inside.
The boutique was big, with ten-foot glass windows letting in enough light that it felt like outside even when you were in. Brightly colored paper butterflies bigger than toddlers were suspended from the ceiling, giving the feeling that you were in a tropical garden. Or maybe someone’s dream. A few of them fluttered around mannequins dressed in flowy skirts and knotted tops. The whole vibe of the place was high-end whimsy.
A dozen clients were already strolling through the store, pausing to dwell on skirts or tops. Two girls who clearly worked there efficiently took pieces to the change rooms up a few stairs on the side of the boutique like a stage.
A gorgeous young woman with straight, platinum blond hair smiled from behind the counter as we approached.
“Hey, Dahlia,” Kent offered.
The woman flashed Kent a blinding smile. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Thought one of those waves might have swallowed you up.” She turned to me, though it seemed reluctant. “Hi, I’m Dahlia. The assistant store manager for Reve.”
“Jordan. I’m visiting from Travesty in New York.” My handshake earned me a smile almost as bright as the one Kent got—or maybe it was the fact that I’d explained my presence as something other than Kent’s “friend.”
Kent leaned against the counter. “We’re meeting Taylor. She around?”
“Sure. Just a minute.” Dahlia wandered off while I studied the racks of clothing. It took a few minutes to find anything by Travesty amidst the sea of other labels. I glanced at a price tag on a maxi dress, realizing that ours definitely wasn’t the most expensive merchandise in the store.
The store clearly did a lot of business, and I knew from their orders that this was their flagship location. On a beautiful street, it would be a major draw for those wanting the boho vibe.
And who, unlike me, were happy to pay more than vintage prices for it.
“Kent.” We turned to find a woman a few years older than me though nearly as tall, with her red hair twisted up in a top knot.
“Taylor. This is Jordan. She’s from corporate.”
I held in the laugh at Kent’s description.
“Of course. Can I show you the store?”
She took me around, talking about how they laid everything out while one of the girls on the floor quickly grabbed Kent and sucked him into a conversation. I saw Dahlia glance in their direction until she noticed my attention and ducked back to her work.
“How long have you had this space?” I asked when Taylor paused for breath.
“About ten years. We added another store last year.”
“Congratulations. Things must be going well for you.”
“For you as well. I saw your fall line featured in a number of magazines. And it didn’t hurt to have the plug from Elle Duchesne.”
The young designer Lex had interned with last year had been more than generous with her advice, and with her connections.
“We’ve been expanding every year. We’re diversifying from distribution and online sales. Actually, we’re looking to open a boutique in LA. Any advice from someone who’s done it would be appreciated.”
Taylor’s expression tightened, and she tapped a pale pink fingernail against her lip. “Travesty’s opening a store in LA?”
“Right.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?”
A warning bell went off in the back of my head. “Well, we’re working through it in real time.”
“I’m not sure that’s the right move given Reve’s presence across the city.”
I frowned. “But having Travesty get more visibility will only help the brand, and sales at Reve.”
“Jordan, this is about the experience. Customers want to walk into the store and be carried away. Which means, they carry away their purchases. Why would I carry Travesty if there’s a store right down the street.”
This is not going the way I planned.
“We don’t need to be right down the street.”
A customer approached, and we shifted away from the rack of skirts at our backs.
Taylor lowered her voice. “Listen. Jordan. You’re new here so you don’t know how things work. I just got my hands on the fall Travesty lineup and was about to set my orders. But I need to look out for my business. With this potential new…development, I think I’ll hold off until there’s more information.”
Her soft tone didn’t hide the threat underneath.
Numbers scrolled in the back of my head as I calculated the amount we’d be out next season if Reve didn’t order.
It was a big number.
A big, gut-twisting number.
I collected Kent, who waved at Dahlia as I dragged him out the door. I got past the front window before pressing my back against the exterior wall, waiting for the ground to stop tilting.
“I have no idea what just happened,” I muttered.
“What do you mean?”
I told him what Taylor had said. “Think you can change her mind? I mean, you know her better. You’ve been coming here every few months for over a year.”
He shook his head slowly. “Once I asked Dahlia if Reve could change up the display—remember, you sent me those photos from SoHo and thought it’d be cool if we could replicate it here. We did a pretty good job of recreating it. But when Taylor got wind of it she made us put everything back. Said if Dahlia ever got creative again without Taylor’s permission, she could find another job.”
Great.
Somehow I’d been here for twenty-four hours and I’d already managed to threaten our relationship with our top buyer.
Who was a stubborn…
Not helping.
My mind jumped into fixing mode. If Taylor was going to play hardball, maybe we could find something non-threatening. Something far away from Reve. Maybe we could fill the store with different pieces.
Ugh. This was making my head hurt.
Kent offered to drive me home in his yellow Jeep, and I took him up on it. Riding the glass elevator up to my apartment, my finger hovered over Lex’s contact on my phone.
&n
bsp; I needed to tell her about Taylor. This was a big risk for our expansion plan.
But she’d just texted a picture of her wedding dress and said they were in alterations land, so I really didn’t want to bother her with things that would bring her down.
Instead, I did what I did best: I fixed.
I paced by the windows and chugged coffee while negotiating to get our clothes back from the border in Malawi.
I emailed three different suppliers for quotes on comparable fabrics since one of our fall florals was discontinued and had run short after we’d produced the first quarter of our skirts from it.
I ran pricing models on my computer to decide what we could afford to offer to clear out the last of the spring and summer stock, which there was more of than I’d hoped.
By mid-afternoon, my fixing ground to a halt. There was still a backlog of calls that wouldn’t get made today, but that was the reality of running your own business.
So I pulled up the financial results and projections, reviewing Reve’s share of the budget.
It was a lot. I tried some different options to see if the numbers would work without those orders. Nothing materialized. Basically we’d be fucked if we didn’t figure out how to keep Taylor happy.
How had I pissed her off so much without even talking? It was like there was some code here that I couldn’t read.
I called it quits for the day when my eyes were blurring. Kent had gone back to San Diego and it was just me, myself and I on Saturday night.
Which was fine. Better than fine. Even though I’d gotten used to having Lex as a roommate, I’d spent a lot of time alone growing up and had my own apartment in college. I preferred the quiet of hearing myself think, or reading a good book, or even watching a movie over mindless chatter.
I could dig out my camera, which I hadn’t gotten a chance to use yet, and hit the streets.
Or I could just order delivery and find something on Netflix.
Yeah. That’s the winner.
My phone buzzed.
Just walked by that restaurant in Brooklyn you like
Wish you were here
My stomach plummeted. I hadn’t thought about Colton all day, but in the echoing silence of my temporary apartment, I couldn’t resist.
