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“You’ve agreed to be our star model for fashion week, but we want more.” His pregnant pause was enough to birth a love affair. “We want to offer you the job as spokeswoman for and face of OTB Her. Is that something you’d want and think you could handle?”
For a second he and London were the only ones in the room. Oh, yes, she could handle that and much, much more. But again she held her cards close to the chest with four of her favorite words.
“I’ll think about it.”
CHAPTER 9
Later that evening, everyone from the meeting joined a couple investors at a trendy seafood restaurant located near San Francisco’s affluent Nob Hill. Ace ordered a bottle of their best champagne. Once flutes had been filled, he lifted his up.
“To London, the supermodel and superwoman who will bring OTB Her…out of the box.”
“Hear, hear!”
“Cheers!”
“Yes!”
“Absolutely!”
Responses mingled with the clinking of crystal before everyone took a sip of the pricey bubbly.
Michael Watson, a hip-hop artist from Oakland known to the world as 100 Proof, who’d been diversifying his $100 million portfolio into real estate, restaurants and more, sat back and gazed at London. “I see you brought the fire,” he said to Ace, his eyes still on her. “I was about eighty percent sure I’d invest when it was just the men’s line. But now you’ve got one for the ladies? Starring this one right here? It’s a game changer, brother. Count me all the way in.”
“Good to hear,” Ace replied with a slight smile that London observed didn’t quite reach his eyes. When Michael reached over for London’s hand, she saw Ace’s jaw clench and release, even though he maintained his smile.
“We’re hoping all three of you will come on board,” Mira said. “And quickly. We were going to try and keep OTB Her under wraps until the show, but the publicity division feels it better to leak the information and create a buzz and a mystery around the woman wearing the clothes. We’ll be doing photo shoots as early as next week, and throughout the season. It’s too late for print magazines, but we plan to have a heavy presence on fashion websites, blogs and billboards and buildings in Times Square. With all three of you investing, we could do much more.”
The other two investors—one a former football player, the other a Silicon Valley executive’s wife—took a little more time to convince. But after two hours and a steady stream of some of the best seafood in the Pacific Ocean—roasted mussels, Dungeness crab, pan-seared sea bass and cioppino, the seafood stew that originated in the city by the bay, along with thin slices of Wagyu filet mignon—and London’s effortless banter about time spent traipsing her European playground, the investors were putty in her hands and their money was headed toward OTB’s coffers.
Outside the restaurant, the group said their goodbyes. Ace was standing on London’s left side. Michael, Mr. 100 Proof, sidled up to her right. “Hey, London, I know a spot over near the financial district, a private club owned by a friend of mine. Why don’t you come hang out with me and, you know, let me show you off a little bit?”
London sensed more than felt Ace stiffen beside her. “Thank you, but I have another engagement. In fact—” she looked at her watch “—I really should be going.”
Michael looked her up and down. “As fine as you are, we’ve got to hang out.”
“Thanks, Michael. I’ll be pretty busy between now and New York Fashion Week.”
“In New York, then. I’m a patient man.”
Ace gently squeezed London’s elbow as he turned and addressed Michael. “Nothing personal. It’s business.” And then to London he said, “One of the cars can take you to your next appointment, if you’d like.”
“That would be great, Ace. Can you call it for me?”
“It’s right around the corner. I’ll walk you over there.” He extended a hand to Michael. “Mira and our finance office will be in touch with you and your team to get everything squared away.”
“For sure, man.” They shook hands. “Just make sure I get a ticket to the show.” He looked at London. “Front row.” Leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Until then, young lady.”
