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I grab a pair of skinny jeans, a long turtleneck sweater, and heeled boots. I pull my hair back into a French braid and then tuck the end of the braid underneath, securing it with a few well-placed pins. I put on a super light layer of makeup, just enough to bring my eyes out.
I find Sean standing in the kitchen, dressed in another one of his dark suits. He hands me a paper cup of coffee, and I notice he already added cream and sugar for me. He gestures out the door.
The farther from the front door we get, the more additional men we acquire. By the time we reach the basement, which is apparently private, we have half a dozen men with us and there are three idling identical black SUVs with even more men and drivers.
“Are we invading a small country?” I gesture at the assortment of large, scary Irishmen.
Sean laughs. “No, but I need to keep you safe.”
Aww.I stand on my tiptoes so I can kiss him on his cheek. One of the men snorts. Sean shoots him a look that could melt steel. The man pales and swallows nervously, averting his eyes. Sean opens the back seat door and helps me inside, sliding in after me. I wave at Patrick, sitting in the front seat.
Sean gestures to the driver. “This is Declan.”
“Hiya, Declan, I’m Rocky.” I reach forward for a handshake. He nervously takes my hand for a quick squeeze. Sean looks amused by the whole encounter.
The procession exits the underground structure and every car goes a different direction. As we make our way through the city we cross paths with each other several times. Finally we pull up in front of a swanky boutique off Madison Avenue. Sean helps me out. Patrick and Declan step out, and another man appears from thin air to hop in the SUV and drive away.
Sean opens the boutique door. Two well-dressed, middle-aged women are waiting for us, one holding a note pad and the other a measuring tape. I see Patrick close and lock the door behind us, then take up a post nearby. Declan seems to have disappeared. A high-pitched squeal breaks the silence.
“Oh, my god! She is so beautiful!”
I turn and find the most fabulous man I’ve ever seen, which is a feat in New York.
He turns to Sean and smacks him playfully, his tone turned to shock. “What on earth is she doing with you?” The man is a tall, fit African American with a shaved head, neon pink glasses, a chartreuse green crop top, and black skinny pants that would look great on Tasha.
Sean smiles, a brilliant, genuine smile. “Why do I put up with this abuse, Michael?” He turns to me. “Roxanne, meet Michael, the most temperamental but talented designer in the city. Michael, let me introduce you to Roxanne.”
Michael gives Sean a dramatic shove out of the way and comes to hug me. “I am so excited to meet you! I can’t wait to dress you. I’ve always wanted to work on a wedding collection.”
My mouth falls open. So does Sean’s.
Before I can say anything, Michael explains, “Because, darling, I have never seen this man with a woman, and if his eyes for you get any hotter he’s going to burn this store down. And that’s not even taking into consideration the Irish gorilla guarding my back entrance that gave me the third degree just to come near you.” He switches to a loud stage whisper, which absolutely everyone can hear. “Between you and me, beautiful, people were starting to wonder if he was batting for my team if you know what I mean. Well, some people wondered, every gay man in the city prayed. But looks like our loss is your gain.”
Sean’s face is turned toward the heavens and he appears to be having some sort of small stroke. I start laughing.
“Now, weddings aside, what’s the dress emergency today?”
Sean appears to have regained his functions. “She’s attending the St. Mary’s Children’s Hospital ball with me tonight.”
More squealing from Michael. I wonder how the glass in the shop holds up to this repeatedly. “Oh, my! How much of the hospital did you build this time, Sean?”
Sean just smiles.
This time?
“Well, I’m ashamed I’ve only got a few items in the store that I can tailor in such a short time, but I hope we can find something for you.” He nods at the ladies from earlier and they roll a rack of dresses out from somewhere in the back of the boutique.
I look at Sean.
“It’s your dress, baby. Pick one that makes you happy.”
“I’m not sure what would be appropriate for the event,” I explain.
“Baby, you could show up in a rubbish bag and be the most beautiful thing there.”
Michael dramatically fake faints onto a sofa. I laugh. Sean rolls his eyes.
Every single gown is beautiful, and stunningly different from the others. From a slinky black slip dress to a gold Cinderella ball gown, each one is dazzling. My favorite though, is a black and red mermaid cut gown. The deep, blood-red satin and tulle is overlaid with delicate black floral lace. The strapless bodice closes with a corset back, and fits snugly down to the thighs before flowing out gracefully. I look at Michael. He fans his face with exaggerated hand gestures and squeals again. He points me to the dressing room. Sean stands to follow and Michael smacks his hand.
