And so, later, in the quiet cocktail bar, on the right side of at least half of her Dry Martini, Francine decided that both Gerard and Jeri deserved at least a partial explanation.
“It may not have been apparent, or perhaps it was,” she started tentatively. “But that jerk back there was my ex-husband!”
Jeri patted her arm consolingly. “Well, I can see why you got rid of him, sweetie!”
Gerard was watching her closely. “Was he always a musician?”
“Ever since I met him.”
He continued in a low non-judgmental voice. “And that’s where he got into the drugs and stuff?”
Francine nodded. “Yes, but I very seldom saw him as stoned as he was tonight and I tried hard not to let my daughter see it!”
Gerard continued. “And you have a daughter?”
“Yes, Alison - she’s ten. I have total custody. That’s how he wanted it.”
“Smart move, if you ask me.” Jeri sounded totally supportive.
Somehow, Francine couldn’t help feeling that she was giving out far too much personal information, particularly to the handsome man and his fiancée opposite. She decided to change the subject back to business.
“So, Gerard?” she still had trouble using his first name. “Do you expect to be buying much here in New York?” all of a sudden it sounded a dumb question, but he replied quite courteously and seriously.
“You know, that’s always a question I ask myself and I never know the answer,” he fixed her with those warm green eyes and once again she was struggling to concentrate on what he was saying.
“I’ve seen shows where I’ve gone with the best of intentions to complete my seasonal purchasing and never bought a thing. And then I’ve seen shows where I wished I’d never gone and ended up spending a fortune!”
Francine managed the first smile in a long time. “Well that’s a diplomatic answer if ever I heard one!”
He still looked somewhat serious. “But to answer you the best way I can, I’d say that I need at least another dozen top class items and I’ve a feeling that I’ll find more of them in Monte Carlo than I will in New York.”
“Oh, so you’re going to Monte Carlo?” she tried not to sound too interested.
“Yes, we are, and you?”
“Of course,” she replied. “With luck, I’ll have my line complete by then.”
“Perhaps we’ll meet there as well?” he smiled.
Francine smiled self-deprecatingly. “Only if I need any further dragons slaying - that seems to have been your stock-in-trade today.”
Jeri smiled as if reading Francine’s mind. “Didn’t you know, his middle name is Lancelot?”
Francine nodded in agreement. “I think you may be right. Well, I’d better turn in for the night. Big Day tomorrow. Thanks again, Gerard and to you too, Jeri. Good night.”
He stood quickly and courteously shook hands with her as she left. “Good night, Francine - good luck tomorrow!”
All the way up in the elevator, Francine kept looking at the hand that Gerard had just shaken, like it was some treasure she had just found. Finally, she glanced at herself in the mirror inside the elevator as that same sane voice in the back of her head said ‘Get a grip, girl!’
CHAPTER 10
“Hi, Mommy, when are you coming home?”
Francine’s heart soared at the sound of Alison’s voice on the line. “Hello, my darling,” she said gently. “It won’t be long now before I’m back, just a couple of days.”
“I miss you, Mommy.” there was a sob in the child’s voice.
“I know, sweetie. But please be a brave girl and be good for Mrs.‘T’. Promise me?”
“I promise.”
“Good! I’ve got a little present for you for being such a little treasure. Let me talk to Mrs.‘T’ again, sweetie and I’ll call you again tomorrow?”
“Okay.”
“Bye, my darling.”
“Bye.”
The older woman came on the line. “Don’t worry, Francine, she’s doing great,” she paused for a long moment before adding. “That’s better, she’s gone outside to play with Jenny next door.”
Francine was curious if not slightly disturbed. “What’s better?”
The cherished child minder sounded hesitant at first. “Well, Francine, I didn’t want to say anything with Alison there, but I had a phone call late last night.”
Francine was now really uneasy. “Oh? Who was it?”
“It was your ex-husband, at least that’s what he told me.”
Francine froze in shock. “My God! What did he want?”
Mrs.‘T’ was still somewhat hesitant. “Well, that’s just it, he wanted to talk to Alison!”
Francine was now really alarmed. “Please tell me you didn’t let him?”
Mrs.‘T’ heaved a sigh of relief. “No, I didn’t. For one thing I couldn’t tell if he was drunk or not - he seemed to be slurring his words!”
‘Drugged more like it!’ Francine mused. “Well done, Mrs.‘T’. I don’t ever want him talking to Alison if I’m not there. What did you tell him?”
“I told him she was asleep and I had strict instructions from you not to wake her.”
“Good thinking. What did he say?”
“He became quite abusive on the phone, I’m afraid, so I told him if he didn’t watch his language I’d put the phone down.”
“Quite right. And did he?”
“No, so I hung up on him!”
“Well done!”
Mrs.‘T’ gave a little chuckle. “So, he called back and apologized and asked if you’d call him. He left a number.”
Francine was livid. “Don’t bother giving it to me, I know where he is, and thanks, Mrs.‘T’, you did exactly the right thing!”
“Well, that’s a relief, I’ve been so worried.”
“No, you did fine. Thanks for everything. I’ll call again tomorrow, bye.”
“Bye, Francine.”
Francine put the phone down, white with anger. Just who the hell did Steve think he was? The break-up had been total and he had made it crystal clear that he didn’t want any continuing entanglement with his daughter. Now, after one chance meeting with her in a bar in New York, here he was, trying to turn her life upside down once again, but more important still, trying to upset their daughter in the process. It was now apparent that she needed to pay another visit to ‘Mandolins’ the next evening, this time to read the riot act to her wayward ex.
* * * *
Still shaking, she knocked on Vince’s hotel room door the next morning and he opened it immediately. To any interested onlookers, their respective outfits could not have been more of a stark contrast.
Francine was wearing a delicate, loose-fitting, green silk smock top over navy slacks and comfortable navy slip-on pumps, lightweight and cool for chasing around backstage.
Vince, however, looked like he had been dipped in rainbow-colored paint with a tight-fitting, multi-colored silk tee shirt and slinky, tight-fitting mauve silk pants and matching shoes.
“Good morning, Rainbow man,” she couldn’t resist the light-hearted quip. “Ready to take the Big Apple by storm?”
He grinned. “Good morning, Princess - today’s the day, let’s get to it!”
They had a light breakfast in the hotel and by mid-morning they were relaxing over their third cup of coffee, ready to grab a cab to the Fashion Center to start preparing for the show that started at seven that evening.
Over breakfast, Francine told Vince about bumping into Steve the night before and also about the latter calling her home trying to speak to Alison.
Vince vividly remembered Steve and his philandering ways before Francine divorced him and consequently had little respect for Steve’s antics the night before.
“I can’t believe it!” was all he could manage. “And you say that Mr. Wonderful came to your rescue yet again?”
Francine sighed. “Yes, big time! It’s getting really weird. Everywhere I go,
he seems to turn up like a bad penny, although I must admit I was really glad to see him last night when Steve started turning ugly.”
“What did he do?” Vince licked his lips in anticipation.
“Well, Gerard grabbed him,” she smiled as she remembered. “Lifted him off his feet like a rag doll and squeezed his arms till he screamed!’”
Vince was smiling at the vision she was conjuring. “Girl, I’d love to have seen that. Then what?”
“Gerard and Jeri escorted me back to my hotel and I bought them both a drink for their trouble.”
Vince gave another cunning smile. “I see, now it’s Gerard not that jerk Cinclare! Very interesting! So, what are you going to do about Steve now?”
She thought for a moment. “Well, at least I know where he’s playing with the group. We need to have a word about his antics last night and especially about him disturbing my daughter in defiance of the divorce decree.”
Vince looked concerned. “So, what are you going to do, confront him alone?”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. Not if he’s back on drugs!” at that very moment, Francine looked up to see at least a potential solution to getting help in confronting Steve, as Roger unexpectedly joined them, a big grin on his face.
“Can anyone join in?” he asked breezily, giving Francine a fleeting kiss on the cheek. He didn’t quite look his usual elegant self with six-o-clock shadow showing on his chin.
Francine smiled briefly, a curious look on her face. “Roger, what are you doing here?”
He grinned. “Now, that’s what I call a welcome. I pull all the strings I can to get an assignment in New York so that I can see my baby’s fashion show, and what do I get - what are you doing here?”
She quickly rephrased her remark. “No, darling, it’s great to see you, it’s just that I wasn’t expecting you.”
Roger grabbed a chair, flagged a waitress and held up a coffee cup, giving the universal signal for ‘Fill it up, get my heart started!’
He grinned roguishly. “Matter of fact I got in late last night for an interview with a Senator for this morning’s news show in Dallas. The piece has already been aired and now I have the rest of the day to myself.”
Francine gave a wistful smile. “All to yourself I’m afraid, Roger. I won’t have a minute to spare until after the show, but you’re welcome to come along, I’ll leave a ticket at the door.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he tried to sound supportive. “But after being up most of the night editing, I’m going to crash for a few hours. See you later, darling! Bye, Vince!”
Almost as quickly as he had arrived, he was gone.
“Bye!” was all they could both manage before he was out of sight, just as the Waitress arrived with the coffee. Francine waved her to leave it and looked across at Vince, the latter with a look of mild censure on his face.
“Looks like Mr. Wonderful is passing through yet again,” he sighed. “What odds are you giving me that he even shows up tonight?”
She smiled enigmatically. “Let me put it this way, I won’t be expecting him to accompany me to have a little chat with Steve later tonight, that’s for sure!”
Vince nodded his head in agreement, that cunning smile returning. “Hmm, perhaps you should ask Gerard to accompany you?”
“Yeah right!” Francine sighed wearily, because from the moment she and Roger had met, Francine had been under no misapprehension when it came to Roger’s inability to get involved in other people’s problems.
In fact, if she were to admit it, he was probably the most self-centered person she had ever known. All of a sudden, she found herself comparing him to a more recent player in her life, the equally self-assured Gerard Cinclare himself.
Although Gerard had initially come across as a boorish know-it-all, he had more recently shown an unexpected, gentler, more human side to his character, a trait that now had her more confused than ever.
CHAPTER 11
As they paid off the cab outside the Fashion Center, even the streets outside were beginning to look as though there was a fashion show in the offing. Racks of clothes were being wheeled in on their distinctive box-bottom rollers as taxis rolled up bringing some of the models. Even this early, the odd paparazzi were hanging about apparently after someone had erroneously leaked the news that Cindy Crawford would be in attendance.
Once inside the building, Francine made her way to the changing area to round up all her models, hoping against hope that none had fallen sick or injured themselves the night before.
Vince in turn was shepherding the precious Classique creations to their designated corner of the changing area as Francine arrived from the opposite direction to confirm that everything was in order and that the girls were already safely in hairdressing so she could relax for a little while.
The next job on her list was to organize the music. If there was one thing she had learned at the design college, it was that trendy, upbeat music had a very significant effect on a person’s perception of a model walking down the catwalk and consequently a special impression of what the model was actually wearing. Francine had worked hard with Benny Mitchell, a musician friend back in Dallas to lay down tracks that portrayed her own distinctive design flair. Consequently, after locating the sound guy, she spent some time discussing the sound track with him until he was comfortable with it.
The next job was then to find the Compere and go over her specific script to make sure she understood the delivery and the highlights of each garment description. By the time she had waited her turn to talk with the Compere, the larger fashion houses were already smothering the scene with dressers, assistant dressers, in-house photographers and a host of additional people handling make-up and hairdressing.
With a few minutes to spare, Francine decided to take one more look at the Auditorium while things were still quiet. She wandered down the side of the catwalk, her mind visualizing each of her creations drifting along above her, seductively draped around her various models.
Finally, she stopped at the head of the catwalk and sat down in what she now looked upon as the ‘vulture pit’. This was where the first creative comments on her line would originate from the Big Apple.
As she lowered her head in silent prayer that everything would go smoothly, a familiar, if not persistent voice behind her made her give a start.
“If it’s not right now, prayer is a little too late, my dear!” Gerard Cinclare looked down on her with a humorous twinkle in his eye.
‘My dear! How dare he call me my dear?’ she mused before acknowledging his presence politely. “Oh, it’s you again, Gerard. What are you doing here? Show doesn’t start until seven?”
“I know,” he countered. “But I had an urgent order go astray yesterday back in Dallas, so you might say I’ve been chewing on my agent a little, since it was his fault.”
Francine found it somehow strangely relaxing to be talking to Gerard. “Well, I’m glad I’m not your agent. Did anyone ever tell you that you can be pretty rough when you want to be?”
He grinned. “Who me? I’m a pussycat!” he continued in conversational tones. “I take it that you haven’t had any more trouble from…from?”
“My Ex?”
“Yes, that’s the fellow.”
“No,” she paused a moment. “Well, I suppose that’s not strictly true.”
His gaze narrowed, those eyes losing the warm tinge of green momentarily. “Oh?”
Once again, here she was, volunteering information on her personal life. ‘What’s wrong with you, girl?’ she asked herself before continuing. “Yes, he called my home in Dallas last night, trying to talk to my daughter.”
“And did he succeed?”
“No, my housekeeper wouldn’t let him speak to Alison.”
“And is this a problem?”
“Not really. At least it won’t be after I straighten him out later this evening.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” he looked suddenly c
oncerned.
“Sure, I’ll be fine,” she tried to sound more confident than she felt. “The divorce stated quite clearly that he would not interfere in our daughter’s life - so, the law’s on my side, at least that’s in my favor.”
Gerard put a hand on her arm. Once again the tingling sensations began in Francine’s rib cage as he fixed her with a steady gaze. “Well, Miss Dubois, er, Francine - please be careful, okay? The man’s obviously an addict and these people can turn on you in a heartbeat.”
She smiled, touched for the first time by his concern. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care, and thanks!”
He intertwined the fingers of each hand, clicking them noisily as he changed the subject. “So, ready for the fray?”
She paused a moment, thoughts of at least partially setting the record straight for her performance back in Dallas. “Well. Unlike Dallas, at least all my models have shown up today, so all the fashions designed for them will actually fit and won’t need last minute alterations. Other than that, we’ll have to see!”
He smiled that 100 watt smile. “Well, don’t forget, my offer still holds good.”
She grinned as she walked away. She was really getting good at these exit lines as far as Gerard Cinclare was concerned. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m counting on it!” she smiled as she whisked through the door and out of sight.
CHAPTER 12
Back in the changing rooms, it was obvious that show time was getting closer as Vince’s voice was rising in frustration and excitement at a number of octaves per hour.
“No, sweetie,” he was almost squealing at Karen, the model. “The green one is next and then the pant suit!” he rubbed his chrome dome like some sultan rubbing his magic lamp. “Pleeeeease make sure you get the sequence right later, okay, sweetie?”
Karen nodded, half-smiling. “Yes, oh mighty Sultan!”
Francine looked on, still a million things going through her mind. At least she had spoken with Mrs.‘T’ and Alison before she left the hotel and everything was all right in Dallas with no more troublesome phone calls.
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