Christmas at Tiffany's (8 page)

‘You know,’ Kelly said slowly, picking up a wheel of thick black lace, ‘I quite like it. It’s got that . . . fifties Sicilian thing going on.’

‘Sicilian?’ Bebe howled. ‘Sicilian? How can I possibly work Sicilian into my theme, Kelly? You of all people should know this entire collection is based on a turn-of-the-century Dagestani teenage bride who escapes over the Caucasus mountains into Europe and ends up as the toast of Paris. Every item of clothing tells her story. I mean, just look at the embroidery. I practically had to genetically engineer people with small enough hands to work that scale. Fricking labour laws! Why they couldn’t just let me get in some kids . . .’ she muttered under her breath. She planted her hands on her hips and shook her head. ‘No. I simply cannot detour through Sicily. There are only twelve days to go and I haven’t the time to go that far south.’

‘Bee, call on line one for you,’ said an assistant in an impressively unwavering voice.

‘Tell them to call back,’ Bebe snapped.

‘It’s Fiona. She wants a quote for the teaser to the show.’

Bebe crossed the room in a flash. ‘Fee . . .’ she purred huskily, taking the phone into her office.

‘Who’s Fiona?’ Cassie whispered as Kelly quickly brown-taped the box. It was important to know who could turn Bebe’s mood around so quickly.

‘Fiona Millar,’ Kelly said distractedly. ‘Fashion critic. Real heavyweight. Her words determine whether the buyers buy.’

Cassie nodded, memorizing the name.

‘Which reminds me, don’t let me forget to give you a list and photos of all the front row. You need to know who’s who. It’s vital to the success of the show.’

‘Why?’

‘Because they all hate each other,’ she said, as though it was obvious. ‘If there’s a feud going on, they have to be seated at least three chairs away from each other, and they can’t sit there waiting for more than ten minutes. It’s too volatile if one’s getting more paparazzi attention than the other. But if one goes, they all go, and that’s
death,
’ she said, drawing a hand over her throat.

‘Gosh,’ Cassie mumbled, amazed that feelings ran so high at a mere fashion show. Her tummy rumbled loudly and she smacked a hand over it. ‘Whooops,’ she said, smiling sheepishly. ‘I’m starved. Is it nearly lunchtime yet? We could go and get a sandwich, maybe?’

Kelly looked at her as she tossed the box of lace towards a junior, instructed her to send it back, and picked up her bag. ‘Tell Bee I’ll be back later,’ she said to the black-clad serf. ‘I’ve told you, Cass, no carbs, and little and often. There’s no time for
lunch
. Where’s the box of seeds I gave you? Surely you haven’t finished them already?’

Cassie shook her head and decided to keep quiet about the fact that she’d finished them while Kelly was still in the bathroom getting ready.

‘Good. Now, come on. We’ve got to get across town to Maddy Foxton. She’s doing the accessories for the Oscar show—’

‘Oooh, I didn’t know the Oscars were on,’ Cassie interrupted excitedly. ‘Will we get to go?’

‘No,’ Kelly said, her heels click-clacking down the stairs. ‘Because they happen in LA and not till after Christmas. I’m talking about Oscar de la Renta – one of the most venerable names in New York fashion.’

Cassie had never heard of him. ‘Oh.’

‘So we’ve got to get some shots of those and a press release ready before they go over to Oscar’s . . .’ They burst out of the building and started stalking down Seventh Avenue. Well, Kelly stalked. Cassie kind of clattered after her, trying to get to grips with speed-walking in heels.

‘Then we’re expected at the Harper’s offices to discuss their Christmas offer. I’ve got a meeting with Paloma Morriss at four – she’s previewing her new heel shape. We’d better show our faces back with Bebe after that, make sure she’s not threatening to jump – or push! After that, we’re pretty free. I’ve booked us both a kick-boxing session for six. Just wait until you see what it can do to your thighs.’

‘Oh good,’ Cassie panted, the sounds of her wheezing and the midtown traffic drowning out her disgruntled tummy. She briefly wondered whether Kelly had learnt how to do circular breathing, being able to walk and talk that fast at the same time.

‘And then we can go home?’ She was practically hallucinating about sofas.

‘Yeah, I thought you might need a rest.’ Kelly smiled as she looked at her. ‘So I’ve got La Cornue delivering dinner at eight, and then when you’ve recharged, we’re hooking up with Henry and hitting Mischka later on.’

‘What’s Mischka?’

‘Hot new club off Madison. You’ll love it.’

‘This place is the nuts!’ Kelly shouted to no one in particular as she expertly wove her way through the crowd from the bar, holding their drinks aloft. Cassie had been trying to keep up, but seemed to be permanently three people adrift and had had to stand with her arms pinned to her sides in the middle of a group of telecom salesgirls from Brooklyn on a hen party. Not that moving freely was much of an option. She was shoe-horned into a black dress with bondage straps criss-crossing her hips and, being bought from a sample sale, it was still far too small.

‘Come over here,’ Kelly laughed, handing her a tall, suspiciously pink drink.

‘What is it?’

‘Delicious!’ Kelly said, winking. ‘Cheers!’

They had been dancing for over an hour already – Cassie swaying like a potted palm to minimize foot movement in her vertiginous spike boots – and she had a raging thirst. She emptied the top third of the drink in a single gulp, surveying the frenzy around her with apprehensive eyes. She’d never been around so many white teeth and sharp shoulders in her life. Back home she had socialized among plus fours, gentle tweeds and melodic burrs that soothed like birdsong. Here, people kept talking about ‘collateralized debt obligations’ and ‘leverage ratios’. What did it all mean?

‘They won’t bite, you know,’ Kelly said, leaning towards Cassie as she apologetically moved herself left, then right, then left again to get out of other people’s way. Kelly took her by the elbow and made her stand on one spot.

‘Let them go round you,’ she said kindly. ‘They’re the ones moving.’

Cassie nodded uncertainly. There must be well over three hundred people in here, all wearing the same intense expressions as they scanned the crowd for friends and yet-to-be-met lovers.

‘So what do you think?’ Kelly asked, bopping her head to the beat and sipping her drink delicately.

‘I was just wondering whether they’ve got a coherent fire-evacuation policy.’

Kelly rolled her eyes. ‘I mean, what do you think about the
music?
The
people?
The
scene?’

‘Well . . . it kind of reminds me of the discos we had at school. But with alcohol instead of squash.’ She peered at her drink suspiciously again. It was too sweet, too drinkable, and her head was beginning to spin.

‘That’s because tonight is nineties night. Retro! I thought you might like some familiar tunes. Break you in gently. I thought it might be a bit much to plunge you straight into dance music. Can you see Henry yet?’

Cassie shook her head, feeling the telltale tickle in her throat again as another flurry of coughs erupted upwards. Dry ice was a new phenomenon to her and not a particularly good one, setting off the mild asthma that had only ever really bothered her in school lacrosse matches.

‘Hey,’ said a voice behind them, and Cassie felt a large warm hand slap her lightly between her shoulder blades. ‘You okay there?’

A man with blue eyes that drooped slightly at the edges was smiling at her, both confident and concerned at the same time. He was wearing a charcoal suit with a clubby dove-grey and vanilla striped silk tie, and a chunky, very expensive-looking watch that was peeking out from beneath his cuffs.

Cassie, red-faced and spluttering, tried to nod in the affirmative and the three of them stood there for a few moments until the coughing passed.

‘Better?’ he asked, rubbing her back gently. Kelly stepped in closer to Cassie, as though she needed physical protection from the male of the species. He dropped his hand.

‘So I was wondering –’ he said, addressing himself to Cassie – ‘I’ve been watching you two since you got here and you haven’t let a single guy buy you a drink, dance with you, or even talk to you for more than a minute.’

Cassie grinned idiotically. He was very handsome, with a muscular physique and the kind of confidence that only money or good looks can engender. From the looks of his watch, he had both.

‘And what? You’re here to break that record?’ Kelly asked, irked to be so blatantly ignored.

The man looked at her briefly, still smiling, then turned back to Cassie. ‘I was just wondering why. You’re clearly two very beautiful women. So what’s the problem?’

‘The problem,’ Kelly said, one hand on her hip and her head waggling a little, ‘is that Prince Charming hasn’t made his entrance yet tonight. But do us a favour and let us know if you see him, will ya?’ she finished, oozing sarcasm, and took Cassie by the elbow, moving as though to lead her away.

Cassie shrugged apologetically and the man pulled a face as if to say ‘Ouch!’

‘But wait . . .’ he said, clearly determined not to join the ranks of other suitors who hadn’t broken a minute. ‘How can I alert you to his arrival if I don’t know how to get hold of you?’ He shrugged haplessly. ‘You know how serendipitous Fate can be.’

Kelly raised a freshly threaded eyebrow. ‘Wow. Long word.’

‘Perhaps I could take your card?’ he said to Cassie.

‘I don’t have one,’ Cassie stuttered. ‘I’m . . . I’m new,’ she said, as if Manhattan was a school and she’d just joined the Upper Fourth.

‘Well then maybe your lovely friend could help me out,’ he said, looking bask at Kelly again.

They stared at each other stubbornly, Kelly refusing to be lovely, the stranger refusing to be frozen out. He was very good-looking, but she wasn’t going to reinforce his dazzling impression of himself.

‘Here, why don’t I go first: you take my card,’ he said, pulling a pristine business card from his jacket pocket and handing it to her. Kelly pocketed it without looking at it.

The man smiled at her blatant insolence. ‘So now you know my name’s Brett,’ he said pointedly, shoving one hand in a trouser pocket. ‘What’s yours?’ Again, his focus was on Cassie.

‘Cassie. And this is my best friend Kelly,’ she said, smiling with her head to one side.

‘Cassie and Kelly,’ he said, nodding his head as though he agreed with them. ‘I can’t help noticing Kelly’s very protective of you, Cassie.’

‘You’d better believe it,
Brett
,’ Kelly said, snaking her arm through Cassie’s. ‘You only get to her through me, understand?’

The man beamed. ‘Well then I guess I’d better take your card, Kelly.’

He held out a hand.

‘If it’s the only way to get rid of you,’ Kelly said, sighing wearily and fishing one out of her bag.

He read the details. ‘Well, Kelly Hartford, now I know how to get hold of you – both of you – I’ll keep my eyes peeled. For Prince Charming, I mean.’ He slipped the card into his pocket. ‘Have a nice night.’ And he stepped back into the crowd.

Cassie watched him go and clocked all the other girls’ eyes following him as he moved past them. ‘D’you think he’ll call?’ she asked.

‘Probably,’ Kelly muttered, refusing to watch. ‘But we won’t hear of it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I gave him an old card. All the numbers have changed. He’ll get the message soon enough.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, you need to be a bit more discerning,’ she reproved. ‘You were giving him eyes the whole time, encouraging him.’

‘I was not.’

‘Yes you were.’

Cassie’s shoulders sagged. She felt drunk, and now confused. ‘Well, I mean, he was pretty cute. And . . . isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing? Meeting other men and flirting?’

‘Flirting? Honey, you were way out of your depth with him. If I hadn’t been here, he’d have had you in a cab by now and halfway back to his place. No. No. No. It’s way too soon for any of that. You’re still in shock, whether you realize it or not. For now it’s enough just to be back out in the world again, expanding your horizons. All the other stuff can happen later when you’re back on your feet. Maybe when you get to Paris. ’

‘
Paris?
’

‘Sure. Anouk says she knows someone who could give you your confidence back. You know, woo you, not just seduce you.’

Cassie looked at her, appalled that her recovery was being micro-managed to this degree.

‘What? Don’t look at me like that! You wanted us to help you. That means protecting you, as much as directing you. Just let us do our jobs, okay?’ Kelly said, putting a hand on her arm. ‘Come on, let’s dance again.’

Cassie shook her head. ‘Honestly, I can’t. I’m not used to balancing my body weight on the balls of my feet. I’m in agony.’

‘But this is the best song!’ Kelly protested.

‘That’s fine. You go. I’ll sit down and watch from here. I’ll protect our drinks,’ Cassie said firmly, putting her hands around the two pink-filled glasses.

‘Well, don’t go anywhere,’ Kelly warned, swaying off towards a group of acquaintances in the centre of the dance floor.