Tailored for Love Page 9

  "No! It's not like that at all. I'm not even involved in the contest. I'm only here because I wanted to get away with you."

  "Don't talk to me! I have to get off this plane."

  "I'm sorry, Miss," the flight attendant said. "We're cleared for take-off. You need to sit down and buckle up. Now!"

  "How could you, Will? I can't show my collection now. I'm a fraud! I can't get off this plane and have everyone know I'm the owner's fucking girlfriend. Am I even that?"

  "Calm down. You're making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be," he said as he sat next to me.

  "No! Go sit somewhere else. I don't even want to see you right now. You have no idea what you did! Everything I worked for, I thought I did all of this on my own, and it turns out all I did was flirt with the right guy. Please, just leave me alone."

  He walked to the front of the plane and sat down without looking back at me. I knew I hurt him, but at that moment I didn't care. Anger fueled me. I didn't know what to do. I'd have to cancel the show and my dream of showing a collection at Fashion Week. All that hard work had been wasted. No one would ever take me seriously now.

  Chapter Twelve

  Will

  Getting up, I walked towards the front of the plane and sat down, leaving Deborah hurt and seething with rage in her seat. This was why I didn't have relationships. They were too complicated. My one-night stands were much easier.

  Thinking about the faceless women who had shared my bed, I felt a bit sad. Not that I regretted any of them, of course. I just didn't want Deborah to become one of them. She meant more to me than I cared to admit, and that worried me. I purposefully secluded myself not out of fear of danger but out of fear of loss.

  Twenty-Five Years Ago

  The Canyon Cove Christmas Extravaganza ended with heavy red velvet curtains closing at the foot of the stage. The annual show billed itself as "spectacular" and never disappointed. Ending the show was a nativity scene with live animals and the most brilliant star shining upon them that any eight-year-old had ever seen. Even me, and by then my parents had taken me into the city to see the show the past four years in a row.

  "What did you think of the show, Will?" my dad asked as he did every year.

  William Hargrove King, Jr., my father and namesake, wore a permanent smile. It wasn't fake, he was always happy and did what he could to make others around him happy, too. It was his idea to begin the annual trip into the city to see the Christmas Extravaganza, and he enjoyed it as much as I did.

  "It was awesome, Dad! Even better than last year!" I replied.

  "I'm glad you had fun," he said as he mussed my hair as the three of us walked up the aisle towards the lobby doors to the exit.

  I walked between my parents, both of them holding my hands. We were dressed up like most of the other people who watched the show. Dad was handsome with his brown and silver hair combed back, dressed in a black pinstriped suit with a red tie. Mom turned heads in a simple dress the same shade of red as the tie, her dark hair pinned back over her ear with a small barrette she always wore to keep her wavy brown hair out of her eyes.

  Even then, I felt comfortable wearing a suit. Dressed in a child's version of my father's suit, I looked like a miniature version of him. I wouldn't have had it any other way. I looked up to my father and wanted to be just like him.

  As we bundled ourselves in our coats before stepping out into the cold, I looked at our reflection in the gold mirrored walls lining the entry. We were happy. We were a family. We were also the wealthiest people in town.

  Exiting the warmth of the building, the cold air stung my lungs. Stewart, our driver, left the limo running at the curb and cut a path through the crowd for us. He was lanky in his navy driver's uniform and while I always thought he was old, I later learned what was old to a child differs greatly from reality.

  Stewart's dark blond hair fell into his eyes before he pushed it back and under his driver's cap. Only in his late twenties, Stewart already lived many lives and had a history I would never fully know.

  "Sir, I still think you need to hire security," he said to my father as he guided us through the thick throng of people waiting outside the theater. "A man in your position--"

  "In my position?" my father asked.

  "Yes, your wealth--"

  "Wealth means nothing. I wasn't always rich. I grew up not far from here, as you know. Before Hargrove's became a household name, I knew what it was like to wonder where our next meal was coming from." He looked around at the crowd. "Why would anyone hurt me?"

  Stewart sighed. "The economy does strange things to people. You know I trust no one. And you hired me for protection."

  "For my wife and child, not myself. You know better than to bring this up in front of them," my father said through clenched teeth.

  Silenced, Stewart opened the car door for us. Dad looked around at the crowd again, then to us, his small family.

  "I want to show you something. I haven't mentioned this to you before because I didn't want you to worry, but I know this is the right decision for our company," my dad said as he looked into my mother's light blue eyes. "Let's go for a walk."

  "But sir--"

  "No. This is between my family and I. We're going alone. This is about the future. Like I said before, we're safe. This is my old hang out. Do not follow us. I expect the car to be right where it is now."

  Stewart nodded and stepped out of the way, letting my dad lead us down the block.

  "Where are we going, Bill?" My mother asked, her voice filled with worry. "It's late. Couldn't you show us another time? Maybe when it's not so dark?"

  We were only a block away from the theater, but its bright lights didn't make it down the street that far. The moon was covered by thick clouds, and the only light came from the dim street lamps that graced the corners.

  "I grew up not far from here," my father said. "Across the street was the ice cream shop I'd stop by after school."

  While we walked, my father continued reminiscing. The street grew quieter as we passed less people, and suddenly it felt like we were alone in this old part of the big city. Surrounding us were old tenements, run down and uncared for. The buildings had a strange mixture of sadness and despair as they looked down upon us.

  "The neighborhood changed after I left. These old buildings once had their own personalities, but after decades of neglect, they've begun to crumble."

  "Dad, I'm cold. I want to go home," I whined.

  "Soon. You need to see this. It's your future," he said before pointing up to the top of the building across the street where a large banner with 'Hargrove's Fine Department Store Coming Soon' emblazoned across it. "None of these buildings can be saved. They've been destroyed by time, but I wanted to give back to the community where I grew up."

  I turned around, thinking I heard movement in the darkness, but I couldn't see anything. My mother was shivering and pulled me closer to tighten the wool scarf around my neck. Suddenly a deep, slurred voice came from within the shadow of a doorway.

  "Pretty people like you shouldn't be here."

  My mother pulled me closer to her. She still shivered, but I knew her chill had been replaced with fear.

  "We were just leaving. Weren't we, Bill?" she said as she gently nudged my father while holding me as if I was attached.

  Because my mother held me so close, I couldn't really see the man who stepped out of the shadows. I definitely could smell him though--a rank mixture of alcohol and sweat. Every time he spoke, my blood turned cold.

  "N-n-now wait a minute here," he said, stumbling over his words. "I know you. Your face. I've seen you on TV. You're the reason me and hundreds of others were run outta here. You bought our homes so you could build a ridiculous department store."

  "I tried to save the homes here," my father said, "but they're not safe. No one should live in these conditions. That's why I had new housing built in the suburbs just outside the city. It's beautiful there and you'll have a better quality of
life."

  "I'm homeless!" the stranger yelled.

  He pulled out a gun, and my mother gasped in horror before pulling me further away with her.

  "I gave you better homes. And transportation. And when the store is built, it'll provide hundreds of jobs. I did what I could to give back to my old community."

  "You destroyed the community! You ruined everything!" He waved the gun as he yelled. "M-my entire life was here. And everyone left! They left me for grass and trees. But I'll never leave! You can't make me!"

  I heard a loud pop. "Charlotte!" My father yelled as my mother screamed and covered me, holding me tightly against her as she whispered "Everything will be okay" over and over.

  "N-n-no! Wh-what did I? I-I didn't mean--" The drunk wailed.

  "It's okay," my dad said, and I felt relieved hearing his voice. "Just go and leave us be. I promise nothing will happen. I won't say a word."

  I couldn't see anything with my mother holding me so tight. I heard someone stumble and the soft leather of a shoe slide against the sidewalk. I knew my father had collapsed. My mother sobbed.

  "I--I have to finish this. It has to end here," the man murmured.

  Suddenly there was another pop. Then one even closer before my mother slumped on top of me. I heard sirens and someone running. The stench of sweat and cheap alcohol still hung in the air.

  "Bill!" Stewart's voice came from out of nowhere, then it was followed by a succession of pops that sounded different from the drunk's gun.

  Stewart lifted my mother from me and gently laid her on her back on the cold cement. An intense iron smell filled the air. I couldn't grasp what happened.

  "Will! Are you okay?" Stewart asked.

  "Mom?" I choked as I nodded.

  "She's alive."

  "Dad?"

  Stewart turned and I followed his eyes. My father laid in a black puddle I knew was his blood. Just beyond him was the body of the man with the gun. His head lay in a similar pool as my father's. I knew Stewart had killed him.

  Hearing my father groan, I ran over. His hand clutched at his chest. His face was covered in sweat.

  "Dad, are you ok?"

  "I'm fine," he whispered and grasped my hand. "Take care of your mother. I'm sorry--" He coughed and spit up some blood. "I should've been more careful. I know better. But I wanted to show you the future." His breath grew ragged. "You and your mom are the best thing that ever happened to me."

  I didn't hear the police and ambulances arrive. Several EMTs rushed over to my father and began working as my father's hand slowly let go of mine. I looked over at my mother who was now on a stretcher but not moving, her eyes still closed.

  One of the EMTs working on my father put his hand on my shoulder and said "I'm sorry" in a strange accent.

  Rushing over to my mother, Stewart stood beside her, listening to that technician.

  "It doesn't look good. We have to get her to the hospital and operate. I'm not sure if she'll survive the ride though."

  Hot tears streamed down my face. I felt lost. This had to be a bad dream. My mother's eyes fluttered and I reached for her hand. She quickly squeezed it, but there was no other sign she knew I was there.

  As I climbed into the ambulance with her, the steady beep of the machine changed to a high constant hum. No one needed to say anything. I had lost them both.

  Present Day

  Clearing my throat, I composed myself again. Thinking about their deaths made me experience it all over again. Switching my focus to Deborah made me smile. I only wished she knew how special and talented she really was.

  Yes, I should have told her I owned Hargrove's, but I had nothing to do with the Annual Designer Challenge other than creating it in honor of my mother years ago. Had I known Deborah would get so upset, I would've done things differently.

  Still, she overreacted. Once we got to France and she saw the surprises I had for her, I was sure all of this ridiculousness would be forgotten.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Deborah

  Why couldn't he have sat at the back of the plane? Sitting on the oversized leather plane seat, it didn't matter how angry and hurt I was, every time I looked up, I saw the back of Will's stupid head and my anger subsided a little bit. He really didn't do anything wrong, but he still should have told me. Now I needed a way out of showing my collection.

  No way was I going to embarrass myself. I could just hear the whispers--well, what do you expect, she's screwing the owner. That was the last way I wanted to make a name for myself in the fashion industry.

  This had to be the longest plane ride on the planet. I thought it was going to be bad before because of my excitement, now it was worse because I had no reason to be excited. I was a fraud now, before I had talent.

  Sighing, I pulled out the pad of paper I always carried with me and started sketching some ideas. I'd have to call the Hargrove buyer Amanda when I got to Paris, and I was sure she'd fire me on the spot. Maybe I should just let Will take care of it. It was his fault anyway.

  I peeked at the front of the plane again. His dark brown hair looked even richer against the tan leather seat. It was official--I was crazy about him. I was still upset though.

  * * *

  We rode together in the limo to the Hotel Plaza Athenee in silence. Will wouldn't even look at me, which was fine because if he did, I might want to kiss him. Besides, I really didn't want to look at him, either. Looking at him made it harder to stay angry with him for ruining my career.

  But did he ruin my career? Was I being dramatic and blowing things out of proportion? Probably, but I couldn't change how I felt or my reaction. There was nothing worse in my mind than getting so close to achieving a dream, only to find out you achieved nothing.

  Paris was more beautiful than I ever imagined. I wondered if I would get time to tour some spots or if Hargrove's would send me back immediately. Will certainly wasn't saying anything, but he didn't know I couldn't show my collection.

  As we pulled up in front of the hotel, I marveled at how pretty a building could look. With cascading flowers tumbling from window boxes and red awnings, the exterior was lovely enough. Noticing the curved stone of the balconies, the intricately carved window accents, and the scalloped awning above the entrance simply took my breath away.

  "Follow me," Will growled in my direction as we exited the limo.

  Stewart directed the bellhop with our luggage while I followed Will like a puppy through the revolving doors and into the lobby. So in awe of everything around me, it never occurred to me to question anything.

  The marble Art Deco lobby was framed by columns and large crystal chandeliers. Each of the columns had a vase with an arrangement of white orchid sprays. We walked through the lobby and directly to a small elevator without stopping.

  "You two go up. I'll ride with the bellhop and your bags," Stewart said.

  Will and I got onto the elevator and stood apart. I couldn't take it any longer. I had to say something.

  "Are you going to say something?"

  "You've made your feelings known. What more is there to say?" he said callously.

  "There's plenty to say!" I said angrily. "Like how about sorry? Did you ever think of that?"

  "I have nothing to apologize for."

  "You know how hard I worked for that competition. No one else will realize that or care. All they're going to see is that I was your girlfriend."

  "Was?" he roared as he finally looked at me.

  Shaking his head, he stepped out of the elevator as soon as it opened and began walking down the hall. I quickly followed him, trying to keep up with his long stride, not knowing what else to say but wanting to fight some more. Opening the door to a room, he stepped back and handed the key to me.

  "Your suite," he growled, then walked down the hall and disappeared into another room.

  Squeezing the key in my hand, I shook it, pretending it was a mini-Will. Why was he being such a jerk?! How did he think I'd react when I found out my design
s didn't win on their own? I should've known better than to think I was talented enough to show a collection at Fashion Week.

  Entering the room, I was taken aback by the view out of the huge windows of the Eiffel Tower. Like the rest of the hotel, the suite was also fitted in the Art Deco style. The main room was decorated in cool light blues and tans. I had never been in a hotel room that had more than a couple of beds covered in polyester. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something red on the floor leading to one of the doors. The red stood out and seemed out of place on the dark wood floor. Will must have paid a lot of money for this place, there was no reason why it shouldn't be perfect. As I picked up the phone to call room service and let them know they left a mess in my suite, it slowly dawned on me that those were rose petals.

  "Oh crap! I really did it this time," I said, realizing everything Will had done for me.

  I followed them into the bedroom where they ended in a large heart on the cream-colored bedding of the king-sized bed. At the other end of the bedroom, I noticed the largest bouquet of red roses on a table, and just beyond it was a view of the Eiffel Tower again.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks as I realized what a jerk I had been, not him. Sure, I was still hurt and upset, but I definitely overreacted.

  The phone made a double-ring sound that startled me out of my pity party. Running to grab it, I hoped it was Will.

  "Hello?"

  "I have a message for Miss Deborah Hansen," said the hotel operator.

  "Yes?" Please be from Will, please be from Will.

  "Miss Dianna Brubaker said to tell you she was catching a red eye and should be here this afternoon."

  "Oh, thank you." I couldn't help but feel disappointed. "Wait, are you still there?"