“Shut up!” I snap back, “Where the fuck is she anyway? I told her to be here at seven-thirty.” I look across at my brothers smirking at me. “None of that shit matters when she’s in bed with me, Mitch. Gold Digger, Sugar Baby, I don’t care. If she wants to ride my coattails all the way to the Oscars and more, I’m sure I won’t mind,” I remark in an offhand manner, too tired to try and explain to my brothers the dynamics about my relationship with Tess, “but—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Bridges, sir?” The concierge is holding out the house phone to me. “Mr. Ishida called down to ask if your party had arrived yet and I told him he could speak directly to you?”
Mr. Ishida and I laugh over the phone for a while, finding it funny I told everyone the incorrect time. Then I hang up when he says he’ll be down to join us directly. “Where was I? Oh yes,but… I think you’re both jealous. You both reek of jealousy because I have an intelligent, hot, soon to be successful fiancée, and you losers have nothing and no one.”
“He’s in love,” Mitch says to Harry, talking as if I’m not there.
I’m in love.
CHAPTER21
TESS
Sarah calls and asks me if we can do lunch. “I’m not sure, Sarah. I’m going out for dinner with Roscoe tonight and don’t want to fill up on overpriced bistro salad.” Sarah laughs. “Girl, you’re hilaire-ry-us. Let’s make it cocktails then. I have good news to share with you.”
It sounds like Sarah has a buyer for her label and I’m happy for her. I didn’t say anything to Roscoe about Sarah’s label being for sale because buying a failing fashion house will definitely not be his idea of an investment. We agreed to meet at this new cocktail lounge that’s opened up close to Mr. Ishida’s hotel so I can make my way there afterward. It has a roof where patrons are allowed to smoke whatever tickles their fancy, which sounds nice, because Sarah was always at some phase of quitting smoking when we were at school together, and she tends to get agitated at places that don’t offer her an option.
She’s waiting there for me when I arrive. “Come,” she pulls me toward the iron staircase that leads us out to the rooftop. “Let’s get a head start on everyone and sit outside here.” It’s that time of the evening when all the commuters who stop in for a wine on their way home have left to have dinner, and it’s too early for the night owls to meet for drinks before hitting the clubs. We pick up a couple of beers from the bar counter, but I only take one pull of mine and then nibble on the lemon stuck in the bottle neck opening. I need a straight head for the farewell dinner tonight.
“You said you had news?” I prompt Sarah’s memory. I want to get her talking now before the alcohol makes her head to the restroom for a line of coke. I remember how frustrating it was whenever Sarah and I had a project to do together. She would never be able to settle down until she had a drink or some other kind of stimulant inside her. She seems to be agitated already. I wonder if I’m too late to get some sense out of her.
“I’ve decided to keep my label going, Tess,” Sarah blurts out the news. I’m happy for her, but a vague flicker of concern dashes across my mind. She changed her mind after she saw my collection…
“You don’t seem happy for me, Tess? Why’s that?” Sarah’s eyes are watching me like a hawk, waiting for my reaction. “Umm, yeah, of course I’m happy you want to pursue your dream a while longer, Sarah…” Heck, I’m just going to say it out loud. Her father’s wealthy enough to push her collection launch into stores at least one month before mine. The Blakely family are not shy when it comes to profiting from cheap labor. Roscoe and I have already discussed this, we want to produce every item of my collection inside the United States to ensure quality control and fair wages. Even my dad won’t buy materials from shady factories overseas. That’s why he visits all of his suppliers so often. This makes my collection’s bottom line way higher than any other designers at the end of the day.
“The thing is, Sarah, you’ve seen my collection already, the fabric swatches, the sketches, and most of the mockups…I need to be sure you’re not going to accidentally copy my stuff again, please.”
I wait and watch for Sarah’s reaction, praying she’s not going to take offense. After all, she did apologize to me. I give an audible sigh of relief when she smiles. “No, Tess, I’m not going to copy your designs. You can relax.”
I open my mouth to tell her that I’m sorry for even bringing up the subject, but she holds up one finger to show me she’s not finished yet. “I don’t want tohaveto copy your stuff, Tess, because I want you to become my head designer. Head Designer at Sarah Blakely Inc. Sounds good, no?” She clinks her beer bottle against mine on the table and takes a self-congratulatory sip.
When I don’t say anything and sit there numb with shock, Sarah seems to think this is me contemplating her outrageous proposal. She continues talking. “It makes total sense. I’ve been wanting to make you a job offer since designer school, only you went and got so prissy about my collection being better than yours and stopped talking to me, I had to postpone my plans. Now you will be more open-minded about my idea, won’t you? Because of your new boyfriend…or should I say your new fiancée.”
“Roscoe’s not my—” Sarah stops me right there. “Quit the shit, Tess. I saw that massive engagement ring you have hanging around your neck. It’s a Justin di Gucci piece, even I can see that. Please don’t think I’m stupid. A lot of people underestimate me that way.”
I am reeling from her sudden change in demeanor. There’s a coldness in Sarah’s eyes that wasn’t there before. Or maybe it’s always been and I just didn’t want to see it. She’s watching my expressions, and I get the feeling she’s able to read them very clearly. She gives a crafty smile. “I can’t think why the two of you want to keep your engagement quiet from the world. Maybe he’s ashamed of you?”
“No,” I croak. “No, Roscoe isn’t like that.” I’m too shocked to think of damage control, all I want to do is try to placate the woman sitting in front of me. “We don’t want press…”
“Really?” I realize my mistake instantly and my heart sinks. She’s like a shark to a drop of blood. “How does this sound then, I won’t tell anyone about your engagement and you come to work for me?”
I can’t give up my dream again. But I can’t expose the Bridges to tabloid scrutiny. I can’t breathe. All my dreams are crumbling around me, the rooftop bar tips and tilts as I struggle to focus. “I need time…I need time to think. I can’t just decide now.”
Sarah sits back, a smug smile of satisfaction on her face. “Thing is, Tess, you don’t have time. I have the employment contract in my purse. So, either you sign it or two things are going to happen: I’ll rip off your new designs and have them on racks two months before you do anyway and your engagement to Roscoe Bridges will be on the next tabloid blog post. I’m thinking…TMZ. So, the choice is yours and the clock is ticking.”
Her voice becomes a buzzing sound like a fly that’s flown into the window of my mind and can’t get out so it keeps banging against the glass pane. “Well, say something, Tess!” Her voice gets louder. “This is real. You should say something.”
I try talking, but my mouth has gone dry. “That’s blackmail. You can’t… I don’t want to…”
Sarah butts in, “Tsk, tsk. Blackmail is such a nasty word. Besides, that’s not what you should be saying. What you should be telling me is that you’ll sign the ten-year contract to be my designer. It will set you up for a great career in the future, I promise you. Not that you’ll need it. You’ll be living the good life down in the Hamptons and will have given up this crazy dream of becoming a mover and shaker in the fashion world. Of course, all of that will disappear if I get my contacts to tell their version of your engagement to Roscoe before you do. You know what? I might even get paid for it! The Bridges family keep such a low profile that any news outlet will go crazy for the chance to preempt your engagement announcement. Put a different spin on it too. ‘Dumpee, dumb blonde gets engaged to billionaire who prefers to keep a low profile about his bad choices.’ That sounds catchy, doesn’t it?” Then her voice changes and Sarah grins. “I’m joking. Or maybe I’m not? Come on, Tess. Agree to work for me, puh-leeze. Why do I even have to resort to begging you like this? I thought we were friends.”
I remember how much the Bridges family despise the press. Any press. Becky, Bryson, Roscoe, they have no respect for people who talk to the press. Who would ever believe me when I tell them it wasn’t me who leaked the story? They will jump to the conclusion it was me, because no Bridges would ever stoop so low. I can imagine the scorn on their faces right now, only this time the look of scorn won’t be for the tabloids, it will be for me.
It would ruin my life. And I can’t allow it to happen because… I think I love Roscoe. No holds barred, I love him. I will do anything not to hurt him or his family. And if news of the engagement hits the newsstands—or whatever the internet equivalent of it is—Roscoe will think I’m trying to force his hand.
But my new collection, my chance at redemption… How can I just sign all of that away? Sarah is forcing me to choose between my two biggest passions.
“Give me the contract.”