Couture Love

by Fields, MJ

  “That’s very sweet.”

  “Then why do you sound sad when you say it? It’s a good thing, Autumn. We’re a good thing.”

  When she doesn’t say anything, I ask, “You fall back to sleep?”

  When she doesn’t reply, I laugh. “Sleep, babe. We’ll talk later.”

  I sit up and run a hand over my face. She’s been a different kind of odd lately. She’s busy, really busy, but fuck, it’s been two weeks since we’ve seen each other and, although she’s worth the wait, I miss the hell out of her.

  I get a sick feeling in my stomach. Something’s off.

  I hit the Snap app and check her location.

  “What in the actual fuck?”

  It says she’s home, but she was supposed to go to her folks for the holiday, which was her excuse for blowing me off from Wednesday to Monday.

  Nope, fuck that.

  I hit FaceTime again and call her back. When she answers, I pay special attention to the screen and see her fucking bedding.

  “Sorry.” She sighs. “I fell asleep.”

  “Where?”

  “What?” She laughs.

  “You alone, Autumn?” I accuse.

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I know you’re not down south with your family. I know you’re in your own bed. This is FaceTime again, and I’d recognize that burgundy duvet anywhere. So, one more time, are you alone?”

  She holds the phone out so I see her. “Yes, thank God, because I feel like shit and—”

  “Babe, what’s going on? You have a fever? A cold? I know the flu’s going around—”

  “No, Eric, I’m fucking exhausted and just want to sleep for four days straight, okay? I’m old—”

  “You’re thirty-four, Autumn; you’re not old.”

  “Well, try keeping up with a frat boy and running a company and missing your best friend and your Natasha. I feel nine hundred years old, okay?”

  “You just saw your best friend and your Natasha in Paris, so try again.”

  “You know what? This is ridiculous, it’s exhausting, and I am too old to play games and—”

  “I’m not playing games with you, Autumn, so what’s this really about?”

  “I miss my alone time.”

  I nod, biting back everything I want to say to her right now, things like, take all you want, I’m fucking exhausted, too, but I address the bite that’s actually bleeding.

  “So, you lied to me?”

  “I was supposed to go, but then things came up, so no, I didn’t lie. I just didn’t inform you of my change in plans.” The way she says it is in a completely detached manner, making me realize it can and will happen again.

  “Autumn …” I pause because, if not, I’m going to take what I’ve learned in two and a half years of schooling, mixed with a lifetime of trying to figure people out, which will mean dick to her right now.

  She looks away from the phone.

  “Let me know when you want to spend time with me. Let me know when you decide you’re worth it.”

  Her eyes snap back to the phone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means exactly what I said.”

  She shrugs and diverts her eyes again.

  “Don’t do this to yourself.”

  She looks back at me and scowls.

  “Get some rest, gorgeous.”

  I don’t wait for a reply that I know I won’t get. I hang up the phone and sit up, looking around the space that is as empty as my fucking heart right now, and then I flop the fuck back down in bed.

  She’s so fucking frustrating.

  * * *

  Along with Shelby, Daisy, Daniel, and several YouTube videos, we cooked the first turkey I can remember being cooked in this house by family. We made mashed potatoes, stuffing from a box, fucked up the gravy really good, and managed to make a pumpkin pie that looked like shit, but thanks to Daniel adding to the sugar measurement tasted pretty damn good. Thankfully, Dad was shooed back into the family room by Shelby, who has taken over the role as house hen. And I … I make sure I’m focused on what I can be a part of and what I can positively impact.

  I watch as Shelby chews on her nails then reach over and bat them away from her mouth. “Bad habit, Shells.”

  “Could be worse.” She shrugs.

  “Like what?” I joke.

  “I don’t know. Sleeping with a married woman?” She arches an accusatory brow at me.

  “You think I’m sleeping with a married woman?” I laugh.

  “Well, she doesn’t come around us.”

  “She’s not married, Shelby. She’s a busy woman.”

  “I mean, I get it. This family is embarrassing.” She nods toward the tribe scattered around the room.

  “It’s not embarrassing at all.” I mess up her hair.

  “Is she gross?”

  “What?” I laugh.

  “Well, why wouldn’t you bring her around? She’s all you think about, besides underwear and school.”

  I lean over and get closer to her face. “She’s stunning, but busy. And you, Shells, pushed me to do the underwear thing.”

  “Well, we needed it.”

  “Team Cartwright.” I fist pump the air, and then I hear Dad chuckle from the recliner, where I thought he was sleeping.

  She pats my head. “Don’t get too carried away, EJ.”

  Dad and I both laugh.

  Suzy walks into the room, carrying her tablet. “Black Friday shopping tomorrow. Any requests?”

  “Just one,” Dad says, sitting up. “Don’t buy shit we don’t need.”

  Shelby looks at me, eyes wide, and tries not to grin when she asks, “You busy tomorrow?”

  Not anymore, I’m not, I think to myself.

  “Nope, weekend-free.”

  “No going into the city?” Dad looks at me from over his glasses.

  “No.”

  “Take me to Beacons Closet? They’re having a sale.”

  “A sale, huh?”

  She nods.

  “You have a grand to spend.”

  “I what?” she gasps.

  “Phillip added it to my deposit, specifically for the young woman who negotiated the contract.”

  “No way!”

  “Way.” I wink.

  “That underwear thing paying decent then?” Dad asks.

  “No,” Shelby and I both answer in unison.

  I watch as she looks through her phone. Daisy is sitting on the armrest of Dad’s chair, and Daniel is watching the game.

  “Where’s Suzy and the kids?”

  Dad look over. “You pick your battles, son. She wanted two nannies; she has one.”

  “On a holiday?”

  “Yep,” he states simply.

  When she walks back in the room with her tablet in hand, I just look at him, and he shrugs.

  When I offer to read the twins a story, they insist on Shelby doing so. She acts like she’s annoyed, but her eyes tell a different story.

  When they leave, Dad and I are alone.

  He sits up and slowly stands. “Your mom was always big on saying what we are thankful for on Thanksgiving. Hers was always us. I want you to know that today, mine is you.”

  I haven’t a clue what to say, but he doesn’t wait for me to say a thing. He simply leaves the room.

  Twenty-Three

  Autumn

  Shuffling through racks and rack of clothes that I definitely don’t need, I hear a young girl laughing from behind me.

  “This place is so much better than a department store. And seriously, you need to be part of this. Scour the racks; I have so many ideas … I need a mannequin to display them all.”

  My fashion-loving, thrift store-finding heart soars at listening to her. It also fuels the excitement from Knox and Milly having moved out within two weeks of me telling them that I was going to take over the space. I need to find fabrics to make into curtains for the windows that I’ve yet to dress and throw pillow
s for the bedrooms, study, and living room.

  “I wonder where all the bags and accessories that still have tags on them are.”

  “They’re over against the back wall,” I say then look over my shoulder and smile at the girl.

  “Thanks!” she squeals.

  “Hey, Autumn.”

  I turn farther toward the familiar voice. “Well, hello there.”

  “You know her?” the girl asks.

  “I do.” Eric nods at her.

  She looks at me. “Can you help me out?”

  “Shelby, she’s—”

  At the mention of her name, I’m all in.

  “I’d love to help. Tell me what you’re looking for.”

  “Everything.” She hurries toward me and grabs my hand. “My mom’s in rehab.”

  “Jesus, Shells.”

  “What? Do you think anyone’s gonna wanna help a kid that opens with, my dad has a house in the Hamptons?”

  “She’s got a point.” I shrug at him.

  “See?” Shelby rolls her eyes at him then looks back at me. “Before she went, we had nothing—”

  “Shelby,” Eric interrupts her again.

  She ignores him. “I stole from the rich parent’s wife and—”

  “For Christ’s sake, Shelby, that’s enough.”

  I look back at him to see he looks defeated.

  “For future reference, if someone is inclined to help you, you can stop at my mom’s in rehab. If your pretty smile doesn’t get them and that line doesn’t work, they weren’t going help you to begin with,” I tell her while dragging her behind me. “So, show me the looks you’re getting your inspiration from.”

  I expect a picture on her phone; instead, she distorts her face and steeples her hands in front of it.

  “You’re going with beggar?”

  “Hey, if it works.”

  “I get a feeling you’re going for edgy couture.”

  “Is that a thing?” she asks.

  I laugh. “It is now.”

  “I’m more going for buy everything cheap so I can sell it and make cash when Mom relapses so I can pay the bills.”

  “Shells, I’m not gonna let that happen.” The hurt for her, coupled with the conviction in his voice, makes my chest tighten.

  “Well, someday you’re going to get married and have kids of your own, and then I need to make sure I can take care of me and Mom.”

  “I will always be there to help you,” he says then glances at me.

  “Yeah, well, there are four more after me that may need help, and I won’t be taking away from them because Mom has a problem.”

  “She’s getting help, Shelby, and hopefully—”

  “I will not ever be in that position again.”

  “Definitely edgy couture.” I squeeze her hand. “So, where are you going to try and sell?”

  “I sell at school mostly, but I thought”—she looks at Eric—“of trying the online way. Less hassle.”

  “Any idea for a name?”

  “Shelby Steals”

  “Hell no,” Eric states.

  “Everybody wants to be a bad-ass and—”

  “Language,” he snaps.

  “How about adding an apostrophe and an s after Shelby, making it Shelby’s Steals and using the tagline edgy couture. Get your mannequin, put together a weekly display so people can bid on the look, and having another page they can click to buy now.”

  “Oh my God, that’s perfect! I already have, like, four killer outfits that one of Eric’s girlfriends sent me.” She stops and looks at him as he leans against the wall and runs his hand through his hair. Then she looks back at me. “It was you?”

  “She works for de la Porte, Shelby.” he begins.

  Shelby’s eyes widen. “Autumn, as in Angela’s little ankle bitter?”

  I laugh as Eric palms his face.

  “I mean, that’s what—”

  “Your father doesn’t like me, it’s fine. Not many on the board do. It was a rough year for all of us.”

  “Did you have electricity? Because I didn’t.”

  “I did, but I also rented out my house and have lived in the basement apartment because living within my means is important.”

  “You don’t have kids, though. You’re not a single mom either, are you?”

  I shake my head. “But Angela is, and her daughter Natasha and I used to spend a lot of time here so that we could have the things we wanted but couldn’t afford. Her entire junior and senior years and her first year of college wardrobe was put together with things we found here. So, Shelby Cartwright, what’s your budget and how are you going to take Shelby’s Steals to the next level?”

  “Next level?” she asks.

  “You have an amazing concept, a name, a tag line; now it’s time to put it all together.”

  “I need a mannequin.” She looks at Eric.

  “I may have a dress form. Actually, four in the attic of my place.”

  “Can I have one?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No, but you can buy one.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “How much?”

  “Five bucks.” I hold my hand out to shake on it.

  “I have a grand. Can I get two?”

  I laugh. “Sure.” I shake her hand. “It’s Black Friday, and I’m having a sale. Two for seven dollars.”

  “I like you, Autumn.”

  Eric laughs. “For God’s sake, don’t tell Father that.”

  “It’s our secret.” She laughs.

  * * *

  Sitting in the back seat of Eric’s vehicle is a different experience, but I like it. I like the way he looks up in the mirror and I get to see his eyes. I like the way the intensity level is brought back a bit with his sister in the vehicle but still intense enough to tell me that he wants me, even after I lost it yesterday.

  Eric pulls over on the side of the road, reaches in his pocket, and grabs some cash. “You wanna grab us a bunch of those hotdogs you like?”

  “Awesome.”

  When she jumps out, he turns toward me. “You don’t look tired.”

  “She’s a doll.”

  Ignoring my statement, he adds, “You look complicated.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m pissed you lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you—”

  “What else aren’t you telling me?”

  “There’s definitely more, but due to my job—”

  “That’s shit, and you know it.”

  “I signed an NDA.”

  “A tongue in the ass trumps that.” He stops when the door opens and Shelby gets in.

  “These are awesome.” She turns toward me. “Do you like New York City hotdogs, Autumn?”

  “I do.”

  She reaches in the bag, grabs one, and then hands it to me. “That’s for helping me out. If you want another, it’s going to be seven dollars.”

  “You’re something else, kid.” Eric laughs.

  “I’m only seven years younger than you, kid.”

  * * *

  I punch the code into the door and open it. “Come on in.”

  “This place is huge for the city,” Shelby says as she walks in.

  “It’s a good size,” I reply, stepping in.

  “You could have lots of kids.”

  “Or lots of stuff.” I force myself to laugh.

  “You don’t have a lot of stuff.”

  “My tenants just moved out. I haven’t had time to move my things in yet.”

  “They left their furniture,” she notes, walking into the kitchen.

  “It’s mine. I rented it furnished.”

  “Luckily for you, they didn’t sell it,” she states.

  “Shelby, tone it down. She’ll think you’re casing the place.”

  “We were evicted once, and Mom sold all their stuff. It happens, Eric. Open your eyes.”

  He sighs. “They’re open.”

  She opens the fridge. “Th
ey left champagne.”

  I glance at him then back at her. “That’s mine, to celebrate my move … when it happens.”

  “We could help.”

  “That’s very nice of you, but I’m taking the weekend off.”

  “From living?” she asks.

  “Shelby, we came for mannequins, not an inquisition.”

  “Feel free to look around. I’ll go grab them.”

  Standing in the attic, I hear feet coming up the narrow stairs.

  “I’m all set,” I say, looking around for the dress forms that I know are here in all this mess.

  “I’m going to help.” I look back at Eric, who looks around. “This is a lot of stuff.”

  “Yeah, I need to sort and toss. Just stay away from the far corner.”

  “His stuff?” he asks as he walks to the right.

  “That was the intention, but no.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I was an idiot and bought a house hoping it would fix the issue. It didn’t. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Oh my goodness, this is awesome.”

  I smile at Shelby.

  “Stay out of the far left,” Eric tells her.

  “You say dress forms. What’s the difference?”

  “Not much actually.” I move a large box. “They’re fabric covered though, so when you spy something that looks like half a body covered in burlap, don’t freak out.”

  She walks over to the small, stained-glass window at the attic’s peak. “This is beautiful.”

  “I was always going to make this into a hideout, you know, where you could read or draw.”

  “You draw?” Eric asks.

  “Stick figures.”

  “You like to read?” Shelby asks.

  “Love it. Just never have the time anymore.”

  “Oh, this is adorable.” She holds up a teddy bear, and my heart sinks to an all-time low.

  “Not over there, okay?” I smile.

  “There’s—”

  “Shells, come over here. I think”—he pulls one up—“I found them.”

  “Awesome!” I cheer super loudly, and they both look at me. I smile broadly, feigning excitement. “Make sure you get the stands, too.”

  * * *

  When Eric and Shelby leave, very shortly after the dress forms were found, I return to the attic with a bottle of wine and a box of trash bags. I turn off my phone and open the bottle of red.