“You ready, Rockstar?” Michael offers his arm.
“No,” I reply and take it. “But let’s do this shit.”
And judging by the disapproving glare Miss Sandra Jubilee is giving me from the other side of the terrace, I probably should have ordered my gin neat.
Chapter Eight
Lauren
“Michael,darling, how lovely to see you again,” Sandra Jubilee drawls in a proper London accent, stretching a long arm full of heavy rings and an abundance of bracelets toward Michael. The black silk sleeves of her designer kaftan hang off her thin wrists almost to the floor, and her alabaster hand is smooth to a fault, which is impressive considering she’s pushing her mid-sixties. Michael takes it in his and plants a kiss on its back.
“Sandra, my dear, you look younger every time I see you.” He flashes her that grin that makes my heart flutter wildly, and I don’t know how Sandra Jubilee isn’t dead from cardiac arrest because I can see the pink hue coloring her cheeks even through the thick layer of foundation. “I’d like to introduce Lauren Banks.”
“Should I bother to remember this one’s name?” she replies dryly, and despite myself, I laugh.
“Lore…” Michael attempts to scold or warn, but his lips are twitching, and he has that glint in his eyes that makes me both nervous and excited to see what he’s about to do. Just then, Annie comes with our drinks, and Michael gives me an amused warning glare, to which I raise an eyebrow, silently reminding him that between the two of us, he’s the one who tends to be inappropriate, not me.
“I’m sorry,” I say to no one in particular, taking a sip from my drink. “I’m friends with Mikey’s sister, Trista. He was kind enough to ask me to accompany him to try and help me with my business.”
“Business?” Miss Jubilee’s perfectly sculpted black eyebrows arch so high they’re almost touching the hairline of her perfectly stretched back jet-black hair.A lot of black going on here, I observe, realizing even her jewelry is adorned with black stones.How very Morticia Addams.
“Fashion design,” I add in answer to her unasked question.
Her eyes grow wide, and she looks me over. “Not a model?” She flashes a sassy grin at Michael when I shake my head, and this may be my drink talking, but I think I like her. “How untypical.” Michael frowns, but Miss Jubilee waves him off dismissively, then looks me over again, more closely this time. “Your design?” I nod. “Impressive. What’s your brand called?”
That question, as obvious as it may be, catches me off guard.
“You should give Sandra your card, Lauren,” Michael interjects, shooting a meaningful gaze at my clutch before winking at me.
I frown and open it, pulling out an automatic pop-up business cardholder in metallic antique-pink. Sliding the button, I offer the card that popped out to Sandra before taking one myself. Overwhelming gratitude and joy flood me, bringing tears to my eyes as I stare at what has to be the most considerate and thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.
The glossy textured stock in dark silver seems almost like linen, an outline of a woman in a dress engraved in the same color and texture. Under the woman, in bright sans-serif lettering the same color as the cardholder, is written S.A.S.S., and in slightly smaller script underneath is the tagline–Sustainable, Affordable, Sexy, Stylish.
My eyes find Michael’s, and he just shrugs with a bright smile, mouthing the word Hattie, but that shimmer in his eyes as he watches the flood of emotions, which I’m sure I can’t hide, tells a different story. Hattie may have perfectly captured the essence of my dream on a 100 lb., 3.5 x 2 inches piece of parchment, but he was the one that made sure it happened.
He indicates for me to flip the card over, and a suppressed sob lodges in my throat when I do, seeing my name with the title of Creative Director & Head Designer attached to it.
“Extraordinary,” Sandra exclaims with excitement, bringing my attention back to her as I fight back the overwhelming emotions so foreign to me I can’t begin to comprehend how to process them. “Sustainable fashion is where we should be looking to, Miss Banks. I would love to discuss this more in-depth.”
“Lauren,” I correct, barely containing the whirlwind inside me. “I’d be happy to. Should I contact your assistant on Monday?”
“Posh. We’ll schedule now and then go about our evening.” She pulls out her phone, signaling me to pull out mine, and we block out a “proper teatime meeting” for the following week. Miss Jubilee then turns to Michael. “Darling, I’m afraid I sat you with Posey tonight.”
“I can handle Posey, Sandra,” Michael assures her.
“I know you can, my dear, but I’m not sure Posey can handle Lauren.” She turns to me with what seems to be an apology in her eyes, but I can’t be sure as there’s a twinkle of mischief in there as well. “Nothing you did, but Posey demands an abundance of attention, and usually Michael’s dates don’t mind as long as they can get it from someone else, more career advancing.”
“I’ll survive with sharing Mikey’s attention for the evening, Miss Jubilee.”
“Sandra, please, and I have no doubt you’ll do fine without him.”
“Hey,” Michael protests, and I hide my snicker by pretending to sip on my drink.
Sandra waves him off again before continuing. “I’m just not sure young Mister Edwards can stop from showering you with it.” Then she turns to a young man, maybe twenty years old, who had been sitting next to her silently the entire time. He was so quiet I hadn’t even noticed he was there until she spoke directly to him. “Walk me, darling.”
“That’s her nephew, Bruner,” Michael explains once they’re a distance from us. “He’s gay, and her brother in the UK is a devout catholic. The homosexuality is a sin conversion camp type. Sandra pulled Bruner out of there and brought him here to live with her a few years back. He’s pretty reserved, keeps mostly to himself.”
“I can’t even imagine what he went through,” I whisper, leaning my cheek on Michael’s arm as he leads me through the mansion to where long tables are decorated in bright colors of silver and lilac with touches of greens.