Silent Whisper (7 page)

I was dumbstruck. I was in awe. And suddenly, I was panic-stricken. He was gifting me my own line of clothing which was so incredibly awesome but—

“Dominic,” I whispered, “I love that you think I have great potential in clothing design, but I mean—I don’t know how to sew a stitch, or make a pattern, or thread a needle,” I explained.

He took my hand into his, raising it up to his full, sensual lips, and lightly brushing them against my palm. “There’s no need to worry, sweetheart. We’ll find people to do that part for you. You’re only job is to design clothing that will sell. I don’t make investments of this nature without being sufficiently certain that I’ll get a great return on them. Do you understand?”

I nodded, and swallowed nervously. “Who’ll handle the business end of it?” I asked. “I mean purchasing the materials that will be needed and figuring the cost to produce. I know nothing about that part of it.”

“You’ll learn,” he replied. “I’ll teach you.”

Before we left the garment district, I had selected two dozen bolts of sample fabrics that would be perfect for some designs that I’d already finished at home. Dominic purchased them all, along with several bolts of assorted trim I selected to get started with. He had insisted in getting the fabric manufacturer’s name and product code for everything we purchased, explaining to me that he had ‘contacts’ in the textile industry and was certain we could get a better wholesale rate.

And so my learning began…and with it came an uneasy feeling that this unexpected dream come true could easily morph into a nightmare if I wasn’t careful.

But it was Dominic and after all, he’d made promises.

The following weeks after our return from New York City were
interesting
to say the least.

True to his word, my workshop—or mini factory if you will, had been set up complete with cutting tables, several sewing machines, racks, mannequins, mirrors and new overhead lighting. There was even a dressing room. The furniture from the office had been rearranged, so now my desk with the computer was in the workshop area. The area was bigger than what I had expected. It was perfect.

Everything felt perfect; and I’d never felt more content in my life. The dynamics between us had definitely changed.

Is this how love is supposed to be?

It was a question that reverberated over and over in my mind. It was new to me and I wasn’t sure what was
normal
in this type of a situation. I had no experience with it whatsoever.

And given the fact that the circumstances between Dominic and me were…
complicated
, caused even more confusion for me.

It wasn’t like I didn’t love all the time we spent together, in fact, I found myself missing him when he wasn’t around. He patiently worked with me in setting up the business; he taught me some basic stuff, and really solicited my input.

He provided me with contacts for everything imaginable including anything I needed for branding and staffing. I quickly learned how to negotiate with suppliers, and set favorable payment terms. I felt important and worthwhile, and most of all, I felt productive and creative. I could even tell that he was proud of me, which was kind of the best part.

The butterflies in my tummy, that had always been there, now seemed to be in a constant swarm whenever he looked at me, touched me, or God forbid—kissed me.

And God, when he
fucked
me it was as if I simply melted into him and we became one. In fact, I would’ve been quite content if his dick never left my insides, I’d decided. We fit each other perfectly.

He sensed my change of demeanor with him, and at times, I caught a hint of cockiness because of it. He knew I had a thing for him, and his cock, but that didn’t mean he took me for granted, because there was no hint of that at all.

I felt cherished and safe, and he was spending more and more time with me after work at my condo. He now kept clothes in the closet and I wondered what types of explanations, excuses or lies he was handing Anna Maria. Or maybe she just didn’t care.

The only thing that I felt slightly shady about was the fact that once we’d returned from New York, I had high-tailed it into the closest Planned Parenthood clinic and obtained a prescription for birth control pills. I knew that Dominic wouldn’t have been happy about that, but I just couldn’t rationalize in my own mind taking that risk.

Sooner or later he might wonder why I hadn’t turned up prego, but I would cross that bridge when the time came. Besides that, with getting my clothing line up and going, I was going to be far too busy for anything else. This was the opportunity I’d been waiting for my whole life. It was a chance to make something of myself, and to be more than just some backwoods harlot from West Virginia turned paid mistress to a mobster.

I could make this business as successful as I wanted and never worry about having to depend on anyone else financially or otherwise. It was because of the promise that he had made to me in New York that I felt confident in my new career. I felt a strong sense of security because I knew that he loved me, and I trusted that he’d never let any danger or harm come to me.

It was because of this newfound confidence and security that I wanted to share this news with Belle, and more than that, I wanted to share it with Lana. I was now in a position to start staffing, and she was at the top of my list. I wanted to get her out of West Virginia, and coming to Camden would be her ticket out of the whorehouse.

I checked the clock on the wall. It was only a little after three in the afternoon; a perfect time to call Belle’s before the clients started drifting in for the evening. I felt guilty because I hadn’t called there in over a month, and that was the longest I’d gone without staying in touch.

I was relieved when Belle answered and I filled her in on everything.

“Oh sugar,” she gushed. “I was worried when I hadn’t heard from you all this time. I knew it had to be something keeping you too busy to check in with the girls and me; I am so damn proud of you. Your own clothing line—why that’s something to be proud of girl. Whatcha goin’ call it?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking using initials, you know? Like maybe ‘DBK’ - Designs By Karlie. The consultant, who is working on my brand and logo, kind of likes that idea. What do you think?”

“Shoot honey, it sounds fine to me. I just can hardly wait to see some of your stuff. The girls and I get a discount, don’t we?”

“Of course,” I laughed, “I can give you some prototypes for free. It’s tax deductible I’ve heard.”

She laughed good-naturedly, commenting again as to how proud she was, and complimenting me on my newly acquired business savvy.

“Belle,” I said tentatively, “I also called because I want Lana to come here to Camden. I want to hire her to work for me. I can offer her a nice paying job here. Now I know you want what’s best for her, too. So she’s going to need some convincing. Can I count on you to do that for me?”

There was dead silence on the other end, and for a moment, I thought we’d been disconnected.

“Belle?”

“Yeah, I’m here, sugar. Uh…Lana’s not here any longer. She got married a week ago and moved to North Carolina. I’ve got her address somewhere around here if you want it.”

What?

The silence was deafening. I was stunned. Lana and I had been through a lot together; I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t have wanted to share the good news with me. What the hell had happened between us?

“Karlie?” Belle’s concerned voice at the other end of the phone startled me out of my thoughts.

“Who’d she marry?” I asked.

“Remember that older man, Walter was his name, the one who took to Lana immediately?” she asked.

“The traveling circuit court judge?” I asked, feeling my eyes bulging with shock and awe. I mean it always amazed me that a judge didn’t care that we all knew what he did for a living. Lana was the only one he ever ‘visited’ and we had teased her unmercifully about her loving the “long arm of the law.”

“Yes, that’s him.”

“He’s got to be three times her age,” I blurted. “What the hell was she thinking?”

Belle’s tone changed to one of aggravation. “Maybe she loves him, sugar. And maybe he loves her. He’s been a widower for years. You know how he took to Lana every time he was in the area? Or maybe she simply found a way out, now are you gonna sit there in judgment of that?”

I was taken aback, but Belle was right. “No,” I said quietly, “It just hurts that she didn’t even let me know. Or invite me to the wedding or anything.”

“Sugar,” she sighed, “There wasn’t any wedding to invite you to. He popped the question and the next day they eloped. He retired from the bench and he wanted Lana with him. He wants to provide for her and I know that he’ll be good to her, now isn’t that what’s important?”

“I suppose.”

“No one here judged your decision, and look how well it’s worked out for you? Now granted, Walter is not young and handsome like your Nick is, but he was willing to give her his name and make it legal. He’s made her his wife, not his mistress and I am relieved that she’s out of here.”

I felt the sting of her insinuation, even though I knew that Belle hadn’t meant for it to be hurtful. She was a very practical and pragmatic person, and in her mind, I knew that she felt relieved for both Lana and me. Only she didn’t know the whole story about ‘Nick,’ and I’m fairly sure that if she had, it would definitely tilt the scales in a different direction.

“Well, I wish her the best,” I sighed. “I would like her address though, Belle. This silence between us has gone on long enough. I’m gonna write her a letter and hope that she reads it.”

“That’s a good idea, sugar. I don’t have a phone number for her yet anyway. Give me a second to find that address.”

We ended our call after Belle gave me Lana’s address, and I promised her that I would call more often.

The next couple of weeks were frantic with getting some of my first designs “patterned.” That meant having someone take my illustrations, and produce patterns for the garment in several sizes.

Dominic had generously ‘donated’ one of the administrative assistants from their corporate office downtown to assist me, which under the circumstances, I was hard-pressed to refuse. I was swamped with all of the details that go along with setting up a business and getting production running. Sherry Ritaglio was very quiet, but extremely efficient. She was definitely all about the work, and that was fine, but at times I still missed having a girlfriend to share shit with.

In fact, the few times I tried to get her talking, it seemed to make her clam up all that much more so I figured she’d been with the family business for a while. She was in her mid-thirties, very dark hair and emerald green eyes. She was striking in fact, and built like a brick shit-house to boot. I considered asking her to model some of the power suits I had designed that were going to be the first garments out of production as prototypes. Who knows? Maybe she’d be flattered enough to warm up to me a little bit.

I had managed to get a letter off to Lana, asking her what the hell I had done to deserve to be written off by her. I let her know how hurt I was that she had cut me out of her life. I asked her to please write back or call me. I guess the ball was officially in her court now.

My thoughts were interrupted by Sherry. “Karlie, the pattern maker has the first three designs finished in five different sizes. I’m going to run over and pick them up and pay him. Do you want me to drop them off at the fabric cutters before end of business today?”

“That’d be great, Sherry,” I said with a smile. “I dropped the bolts of material off to Lorenzo yesterday. He promised to work the weekend so that we have something on Monday morning to start sewing.”

“Great,” she said, picking up her handbag. “If you’ll sign the check, I’ll pay the cutter and see you on Monday.”

I signed one of the ledger checks that bore my company name, ‘DBK Enterprises, LLC.’

“Have a great weekend,” I called after her as she left the office.

I felt a true sense of pride and accomplishment as I closed up shop on this sunny Friday afternoon. The sewing machines would be busy come Monday, magically seaming together my fist creations. I opened the box on my desk and pulled out one of the silk embroidered labels with the beautifully scrolled lettering that spelled ‘DBK Creation’ and fingered it gently, loving the way the gold lettering popped against the black silk background.

A year ago I couldn’t have imagined just how radically different my life would become. And it was because of Dominic. I owed all of this to him.

As I drove from Camden to Cherry Hill, I thought about how much I’d grown to love Dominic and how far off course from my original plan I had veered. I no longer felt the need for revenge; in fact, I’d grown indifferent about the situation with his family. I had no inclination whatsoever to come in contact with any of them. Those rare occasions where Vinnie or Little Sal came by the office were unwelcome reminders that it would never be just Dominic and me. As much as I tried to create that world for us, they were the intermittent reminders that it was not the reality by any means.

When I got to my condo, I saw that his car was parked in the garage. It was odd that I hadn’t heard from him this afternoon. I wondered if he had plans for us this weekend, or maybe he was here to tell me we wouldn’t be seeing each other this weekend. Sometimes family obligations trumped any weekend plans.

Once inside, I knew immediately that something was wrong. He was sitting in a living room chair, his tie loosened, sleeves rolled up and I saw that he’d poured himself a bourbon on the rocks. He didn’t seem pleased to see me.

At all.

“Hey you,” I said, kicking off my heels and walking over to where he sat. I leaned down to give him a kiss, but he turned his head away from me abruptly.