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“Tobias, can I ask you something?” I ask when we get a relatively private moment. When he nods, I gesture around us. “Does this... fulfill you?”
“What do you mean?” He looks at the people around us laughing and talking, having a good time, and not getting what I’m talking about.
“I mean... I got into fashion to create, to express myself, my truth. To make people feel fabulous and beautiful, to give people a lens to express themselves. Especially myself. But...”
“But so many here are about as deep as a tea saucer?” Tobias surmises before shrugging. “Sometimes it troubles me. But you know what helps me?”
“What’s that?”
“To not give a damn what half these dumb cunts think,” Tobias declares quietly. “Apologies. That was positively British of me.”
“No... no, I think you’re right,” I murmur, sipping my champagne. Maybe I shouldn’t care so much about what people like this think. My work and the merit of my work are independent of these people.
It’s... a revelation.
A moment later, my revelation is put to the test as Dead Cat Lady comes up, still looking as weird as ever in a two-tone red and blue bedazzled gown that looks like someone took Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn look, made an evening gown out of it, and tossed it in a blender with sequins and glue. It’s absolutely horrible and not at all flattering on her, which is the biggest offense to me.
This is one of the judges giving feedback to Jacqueline? Why? Someone should call the fashion police for this gown alone.
“Ah,MademoiselleFisher, so good to see you again,” she greets me. With my correct name this time, I note. She even holds up a full flute of champagne in her hand as though saluting me. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Yes, Tobias is wonderful company,” I reply, giving Tobias’s arm a squeeze. “And tonight’s cause is so meaningful.”
“Ah, yes... the boys,” the woman muses, looking over her non-puffy shoulder to the rest of the crowd. I follow her eyes and see Claude talking to a young woman. She’s slightly older than him but looks quite charmed by his conversation. “Well, I do hope you can bring some of tonight’s...inspirationsto your designs. Excuse me...Madame Le Coeur!”
Dead Cat Lady moves off, and I look to Tobias, about to ask her name, before I realize that I just don’t care. She obviously has no idea what constitutes good fashion but has the nerve to throw shade my way?
“Well, I know one thing,” I murmur, finishing off my flute of champagne. “If I don’t win the competition, it’s not because my designs are bad.” I mean to say it under my breath, but Tobias hears me and laughs.
“There are indeed many ways to win and many ways to lose,” he replies. “Oh, fuck, incoming...”
It’s all the warning I get before a big-bellied man with a long, gray beard approaches. He’s wearing what’s left of a suit, I presume, his black slacks and white shirt quality but ill-fitting.
“Toby!” he shouts, though I somehow get the feeling that’s his normal speaking volume.
“Father,” Tobias says, taking a big breath that feels like he’s fortifying himself. “Glad to see you made it.” He sounds quite the opposite, actually.
The man reaches out a hand to me and I take it. “I’m Autumn, nice to meet you.”
Instead of answering me, the man speaks to Tobias as he clearly looks me up and down, undressing me with his eyes. “Isn’t she quite fit? Good for you, my boy. And a fire crotch at that!”
“Excuse me?” I exclaim, ripping my hand from his.
Tobias, I’m about to kick your dad in the balls if you don’t do something!
I shoot the message, loud and clear, with my eyes to Tobias. Judging by his expression, he hears me and isn’t the least bit surprised by his father’s outburst.
I remember hearing Tobias on the phone with his dad but had hoped that was some version of ‘guy locker room talk’. I can’t believe his dad is actually saying these things out loud to me. Well, not to me, but about me to Tobias right in front of me as though I can’t hear or process well enough to be offended.
“Da! You can’t say things like that,” Tobias scolds.
Not looking sorry at all, his father holds his hands up. “Just joking. Geesh, take a joke, my boy. I’m just chuffed you’ve found a girlfriend. Not easy when you’re a lackey for the Corbin boy, is it?” He holds his finger and thumb an inch apart, showing me exactly what he thinks of Tobias and his role at House Corbin. “He’s just a wee lap dog.”
“Actually, I find Tobias to be quite the linchpin of House Corbin. I’m here as a designer for the competition, and he’s been instrumental in making sure that allfiveof us arecomfortableand haveeverythingwe need,professionally and personally.” I add as much sex to the phrasing as I can, imbuing my words with the Jessica Rabbit style of my gown’s inspiration.
Is what I said the truth? Absolutely.
Am I making it sound quite more scandalous than it is? Also yes.
