J'adore New York: A Novel of Haute Couture and the Corner Office

by Isabelle Laflèche

  Wonderful, something else to worry about; I knew I should’ve ignored my mother’s suggestion that I see a psychic.

  “I also see dissatisfaction with your job.” She shakes her head while still firmly gripping my hand.

  Her statement throws me off balance. I’ve had my share of difficult moments and encountered some difficult people at the firm, but am I truly dissatisfied?

  “You don’t seem very happy.”

  “Hmm. Really?”

  “Not what you wanted to do as a child, right?”

  “Yes it was. I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer.”

  “But before that, you wanted to be an actress, a movie star, maybe a singer. I can see that very clearly.”

  “Maybe when I was ten years old, but I’ve changed aspirations since then.”

  “Really, but why? It’s your destiny, my child; you can’t change that. It will only bring you more heartache if you do.”

  “Really? You see that?” I ask. This is a little ridiculous—every little girl wants to be a movie star.

  “I see more, I see more…Ah yes, you have great fashion flair, don’t you? Why aren’t you working in this area?” she asks in a loud, intimidating voice. “And you have contacts that could help you!”

  “I think you may be wrong here,” I reply delicately to avoid offending her. “I love fashion but not as a career. You’re probably referring to my cousin Françoise. She studied fashion design in London and works at Chanel.”

  “Do it! Do it! You must do it before it’s too late!” she shouts.

  “Look, Simona, I have a good job and I’ve worked extremely hard to get where I am now, I’m not going to throw it all away. I want to become a partner of Edwards and White. And I can’t even draw a straight line, so a career in fashion isn’t going to pan out.”

  “Stop worrying about such petty matters, my child. Your passion is waiting for your courage to catch up! Once you do what you really love, money will come pouring in, I guarantee it!” she exclaims, still holding my hand tightly. “When are you most happy at work?”

  These days, when my office door is locked and no one can enter, I want to reply but try to find a better answer.

  “When I’m helping someone solve a problem or when I explain complex legal issues in simple terms. It’s like magic.”

  She gives me a blank stare, looking unconvinced.

  “Not true, my child. You are happiest when handling artistic- or fashion-related matters!”

  I think back to the different files I’ve worked on at Edwards & White. It’s true that I was over the moon when Antoine first handed me the Dior file, but it’s now been taken away. So much for dealing with fashion.

  “That’s true, but such matters are incidental to my job. I specialize in banking and securities law.”

  She sighs loudly and shakes her head. “What is stopping you? Fear?”

  I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off before I can make a sound.

  “Fear of what? You’re so young, I don’t understand. Perhaps a terrible curse was placed upon you.”

  A curse? I imagine Bonnie sitting at her desk with a voodoo doll version of me, taking great pleasure in poking pins into my arms and legs before throwing it out her office window.

  “I see troubles with your family in your youth, your mother crying herself to sleep at night.”

  “Hmm.” I stay silent as she triggers vivid memories of my mother curled up in her bedroom sobbing.

  “A young widow stranded alone.”

  How on earth would she know that? I feel a shiver run down my spine.

  “I see depression, severe depression. Was anyone in your family depressed?”

  “My mother went through a depression after my father died.”

  “She’s very beautiful, your mother.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “This event seems to have scarred you, my child. You yearn for security. But you must let go! This is bringing you down! If you don’t let go, you will suffer from a great depression yourself.”

  “You think so?”

  Memories of my mother’s depression still haunt me to this day. I don’t want even to think about the possibility of going down the same road she has.

  “What do you mean, do you think so? I do not think, I see! I can see it!” she shouts. “We must do something to get rid of all the negativity.”

  A bit leery, I try to change the subject to my love life. At least that’s pleasant.

  “Do you see anything about a man?” I ask nervously.

  “Did you bring something that belongs to him?”

  “Yes, a tie.” I rummage through my bag and pull out one of Jeffrey’s ties.

  “Perfect.”

  She grabs the tie, holds it with both hands, and closes her eyes.

  “Oh, he’s very good-looking, a bit stubborn, and used to getting his own way.”

  “Yes. Anything else?”

  “I see money, lots and lots of money coming to him shortly.”

  “Hmm. Anything else?”

  “I see a wedding.”

  “A wedding?”

  “Yes, in a foreign country.”

  Wow, now that’s unexpected. Although things are going smoothly with Jeffrey, marriage isn’t something that I’m ready to consider.

  “And there’s another man who goes out a lot, to nightclubs, and who very much cares about you.”

  “That’s my assistant. I’m not getting married to him. He’s gay.”

  “I see…Oooh! Trouble for this man!” she shouts.

  “Trouble? For Rikash?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask, worried. “You must be mistaken, he has no troubles. He’s as carefree as they come.”

  “Hmm,” she adds pensively. “Oooh, I see the wedding again. It will be by the water.”

  “On the beach?”

  “Maybe. And it will be beautiful.”

  “One last question: Will I pass the bar exam?”

  “Ah, the bar exam, I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I can only help you so much, my child—I can’t guarantee miracles. You need to work for that one.”

  “Right.”

  “Okay, that will be two hundred and fifty dollars,” she finishes suddenly.

  “It’s over?”

  “Yes, I told you everything that I could see,” she answers abruptly. “I have other clients waiting, you know. I’m very busy. I don’t have all night!” She stands up from her chair.

  This brings me back to reality and reminds me that I need to pick up Bonnie’s documents on my way back to the office.

  “Now before I forget, I want you to take warm baths in rose petals and vinegar.”

  “What for?”

  “The roses attract happiness and the vinegar wards off evil spirits. Please do as I say, it’s very important.”

  The next day, a bit shaken by Madame Simona’s visions, I come back to the office with a few dozen roses and a bottle of balsamic I picked up at the corner deli during my lunch break. I can’t believe I’m going to follow her instructions, but I’m feeling just off kilter enough to think, better safe than sorry.

  “Oooh. More roses from loverboy?” Rikash sighs.

  “No, these are from me to me, for my apartment. Rikash, have you ever, um, talked to a psychic before?”

  “A psychic? I don’t believe in that mumbo jumbo.”

  “You don’t? I thought you would be into it. There are some people out there with incredible powers, you know. Aren’t you a bit curious?”

  “Not at all. You see, dah-ling, I really don’t care to find out about my future ahead of time. I try to live in the moment. Besides, I don’t believe in paying someone to tell me what I already know: that my life is a total mess.”

  “I went to see a psychic last night, Madame Simona. It was a little unnerving.”

  “Really? What did she tell you?” he asks, suddenly very interes
ted.

  “It was really thought-provoking.” I hesitate—I don’t want him to think I’m an idiot—but I could use some reassurance. “She told me that any dissatisfaction with my career probably stems from traumatic events in my childhood. She also saw that I was meant to work in fashion.”

  “Sweetie, every young woman living in Manhattan is dissatisfied with her job and aspires to work in fashion. Not impressed. Okay, what else?”

  “She saw some pretty personal things about my family,” I answer, trying to counter his doubtfulness. “And she saw that I’m getting married by the water in a foreign country. Isn’t that romantic?”

  “I expect an invitation. Maybe I could be one of your bridesmaids?”

  “I can’t picture you in a pink dress.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I look fabulous in fuchsia taffeta. Did she see anything about me?”

  “No, um, she didn’t mention anything,” I lie, not wanting to tell him about the trouble she mentioned.

  “Too bad. I hope you didn’t pay her more than fifty dollars.”

  “Hmm.”

  “How much? A hundred?”

  “Higher.”

  “A hundred and fifty?”

  I don’t answer.

  “More?”

  “No, that’s it.”

  “Are you nuts? She really took you for a ride, silly girl.”

  “I know, but it was worth it. I finally got my mother off my back.”

  “Whatever,” he answers, shaking his head.

  He doesn’t need to know that I actually paid $250 for my visit. After all, it did make mother happy. And bathing in rose petals might do wonders for my tired complexion, while the vinegar might help keep the evil spirits at the office out of my way.

  Chapter 31

  “Oh my god, Rikash, if I lose this draft, I’ll kill myself,” I scream from my office.

  “I’ll kill you first. We’ve been working on this document for three days straight. If I have to spend one more day on it, I’ll throw up.”

  It’s getting closer to the bar exam and I’ve been burning the midnight oil for the last ten days to keep Browser’s IPO on course while attending half-day exam preparation seminars. Jeffrey’s mood has been roller-coastering from anxiety to euphoria on an hourly basis, and trying to find some time to spend together in the last few weeks has been challenging. We’ve been communicating mostly via email and cell phone, often late at night from our offices over takeout food.

  At one thirty in the morning, Rikash and I are still at the office trying to finalize an important memo that needs to be sent to the SEC in only a few hours. The sixty-five-page brick has to get sent out to the attorneys representing the underwriters for their review. After three days of non-stop work, it’s almost finished. I’m giving it one last proofread as Rikash listens to techno on his MP3 player while waiting for my final revisions. My computer suddenly freezes.

  “I don’t understand what’s wrong with it. I was using the spell check and it just froze.”

  “Okay, let me have a look.”

  Rikash takes over the controls of my computer and I watch his long, dainty fingers move gracefully over the keyboard. He’s technically savvy and understands computers more than anyone I know. Every time something goes wrong in the office, Rikash is called to the rescue. Still, my heart is pounding.

  “Rikash, I’m really nervous. Will I lose the most recent version?”

  “Come on, relax, dah-ling, relax. I’ll have it unfrozen in no time. Do you think I actually want to sit around here all night and retype this ghastly thing? I have more important things to do. I’m meeting friends later.”

  “Later? It’s one thirty in the morning. How do you do it?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “You’re right, I don’t.”

  He continues to fiddle with my computer.

  “Where did you learn all this? I thought you were a filmmaker.”

  “I’m from India, remember?”

  “What does that have to do with it?”

  “Don’t you know that some of the sharpest technological minds are from India?” He switches into his “I’m going to enlighten Catherine” tone. “In the 1960s, in an effort to make India a competitive and economically independent society, the Indian government created top-notch engineering schools, the Indian Institutes of Technology, and they quickly became very prestigious. It’s very difficult to be admitted into one—you need extremely high scores on pre-screening exams. My younger brother just passed his entrance exams, so he’ll start next year.”

  “Really? You never told me that.”

  “I’m so proud of him. I’m hoping to make some money by selling my documentary to help him get through it.”

  As he talks, I stare at him admiringly. He has a big heart and a lot more depth than he is willing to show.

  “Is that how you learned your computer skills, through your brother?”

  “I have a few cousins who attended the IITs and all they talk about is bloody computers. I also temped at another firm before coming here and had no other choice but to brush up on my skills.”

  “I’m impressed. I’m sure your skills come in handy here. Most lawyers are technically challenged.”

  “Not all of them are. Some are actually pretty sharp. Antoine was really good with computers.”

  “Really?”

  “Mmm-hmm. I know we complained about him, but I actually liked him. He’s extremely smart. Did you know that he finished magna cum laude at Yale Law School?”

  “No, I didn’t. He was too busy burying me with work for us to swap resumés.”

  “He was always good to me. He even helped review the script for my most recent documentary.”

  Surprised, I let out a gasp. When did he find the time? He seemed so caught up in his work. Did I misjudge him by thinking he was completely self-interested?

  “Hmm. That was nice of him.”

  “He’s totally into the arts.”

  I’m reminded of our early conversation about his pro bono work for the Harlem school and that he does have a big heart. It’s too bad we left off on such bad terms.

  “Anyway, how’s the document? Do we need to spend the rest of the night here?”

  “No, I have it.”

  “Thanks, Rikash, you’re a saviour. How can I pay you back? A bottle of your favourite gin?”

  “Nah, a big kiss will do just fine.” He lifts his arms in the air and moves in for some air kisses. “Are you seeing Jeffrey tonight?”

  “I’m supposed to give him a call before I leave the office. Shockingly, he’s working late too.”

  I dial his cell and it’s turned off. I call his office and a woman answers the line.

  “Hello, is Jeffrey there?”

  “No, he’s not. He left a few hours ago.”

  “A few hours ago?” Hmm. That’s odd. We usually speak before he leaves his office. “Did he say where he was going?”

  “No,” the woman answers abruptly, “he didn’t.”

  I call his apartment and there is no answer. A bit worried, I leave a message.

  “Jeffrey left his office and didn’t even call me. We were supposed to get together tonight before he flies to San Francisco tomorrow.” I sit in my chair, sulking.

  “Don’t worry about it. Something must have come up. I’m on my way to grab a drink at Tenjune. Why don’t you join us?”

  “It’s too late and I need to study. And they probably wouldn’t let me in dressed like this anyway.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re with me, girl. And you’d love Chloe and Amber. They both work in the fashion industry and they’re fabuloso.”

  “I really can’t. Tomorrow’s a big day and I need to study for the exam. Go ahead and have fun, and don’t drink too much. We need to send the memo first thing in the morning.”

  As Rikash leaves the office, I sit at my desk staring at my email inbox. There are several notes from Jeffrey saying that he misses me and that he can�
��t wait to see me. I kill time for a few minutes hoping that he’ll call me back.

  The phone rings and I pick up, relieved.

  “Dah-ling, this is your last chance. Stop moping around the office like a big loser. You need a break from all those Barbri books. Hop in a cab and meet me in the Meatpacking District. I’ll wait for you at the door.”

  I change my mind after hearing the L-word. If Jeffrey’s going out tonight, then so am I.

  I exit my cab in front of Tenjune and the doorman immediately lifts the velvet rope at the sight of Rikash kissing me on the cheek. We weave through the dance floor and Rikash waves at two attractive women sitting on a sleek leather couch sipping martinis.

  “This is my boss, so behave, okay?” They both giggle and greet him with hugs.

  “Catherine, meet my friends Chloe and Amber.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Chloe is a tall honey blonde with a dazzling smile and Amber is a petite light blonde with big blue eyes. Both are dressed in skin-tight jeans with gorgeous chiffon halter tops in pastel colours and are wearing towering stilettos. Do they go to work dressed like this? Quelle chance!

  “Catherine, try the watermelon martini. It’s amazing,” Amber gushes.

  Rikash waves at the waiter, who immediately recognizes him and takes our order. “Sweetie, this one’s on me.”

  “So what do you ladies do exactly? Rikash mentioned that you both work in the fashion industry.”

  “I’m a stylist for Armani,” Chloe answers with a sweet Southern accent.

  “And I’m a buyer for Bloomingdale’s,” Amber says, her head bopping to the loud music.

  “That sounds so glamorous. I just spent the last three days drafting a sixty-five-page document and I’ve been studying like crazy for a hellish exam, so I haven’t slept in weeks.”

  They both stare at me as if I have four heads.

  “Oh god, I couldn’t handle those hours,” Amber comments. “It would totally kill my social life.”

  Rikash hands over the watermelon martinis.

  “Here’s to forgetting about work and your exam!” Chloe toasts.

  I’ll drink to that. I take a small sip of my martini and then finish the rest in one gulp. “These are delicious.”

  I signal to the bartender to bring us another round. After I’ve slurped down my second one at record speed, Rikash shakes his head.