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“I don’t have that kind of money.” I shake my head. “You have plenty.”
His eyes slip closed. “The DEA froze my bank account because of this bullshit.”
“That’s not my problem.” Only... It is.
He has me by the balls.
If I had any.
“Get Ford Montgomery to represent me. He’ll get my case dismissed, and then I’ll hand over your preciousdesigns.”
My throat closes in terror the way he says designs with such richness. He knows what they mean to me.
“You’re not listening to me. I can’t afford an expensive lawyer. The landlord threw me out of the apartment. I’mhomeless.”
After six wonderful months working at Prada, I realized I didn’t want to be on the business side of fashion anymore. My creative juices overflowed with ideas. I also didn’t see the Italian fashion giant or any other high-end design houses doing a plus-size line.
I was ready to move home to California, but Michael convinced me to stay in New York while I finished my designs. He gave me a nice place to live rent-free.
It was only supposed to be for a few months.
My best friend Stella’s fashion business got off the ground with a bang back home in L.A. She flew here to New York a couple of weeks ago, beaming with her engagement ring and told me she’s expecting a baby.
She offered me a raise to work for her again. When I showed her my designs, they blew her away. She got on the phone with her warehouse manager and immediately gave me a production slot.
I told Michael I was going back to L.A. after I finished summer classes and felt relieved when he didn’t try to stop me. But our relationship grew more and more tense.
He started snapping at me. Did drugs right in front of me in the apartment. Invited over sketchy people who leered at me.Customersof his since he decided to start selling the shit.
As far as I’m concerned, he got what he deserved.
But I’m suffering, even though I had no hand in any of this.
“You’re just going to have to figure out a way to pay Ford so you can get yourlucrativedesigns back.” He shrugs.
Michael hadn’t shown any interest or so much as looked at my sketches, just put on headphones while I talked about them. They mean nothing to him, but they mean everything to me.
I gave up a future at Prada for this dream.
I promised Stella she’d have them in six weeks. I’m putting her business at risk.
“Anything else?” Michael stands as I sit there dumbstruck. “I didn’t think so.”
He struts away like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, my world is crashing down around me.
TWO
BERNADETTE
It takes two days to convince Ford Montgomery’s assistant to give me an appointment. If he doesn’t have time to meet with a prospective client, how will he have time to represent Michael?
For two excruciating days, I worry I’ll never see my designs again. At night, I stare at the water-stained, popcorn ceiling in the seedy motel room in Queens.
In the days leading up to the appointment, I try to sketch, wanting to either recreate the line I promised Stella or just start over. For the first time ever, I can’t draw. It’s like I don’t know how.
This happened once after my parents died.
A counselor at FIDM, where I got my design degree, told me I was depressed. A few weeks later, I met Stella, and she opened up to me about her dad, who was in an adult home because of a head injury.
