DESIGN FOR LOVE (8 page)
Authors: Bryan Murray
“Bye.” Francine smiled as the tall, elegant model disappeared. ‘Now, there’s a body and face I could use in my fashions!
’
she mused as Vince came rushing in, a look of appreciation on his face when he gave her the once over.
“Wow, you look great, Princess. First time you’ve let your hair down in a while. Definitely suits you!”
“Thanks, Vince. All the girls ready?”
“Yep. Just gave them the once over. I spoke with the organizers, the final walk will be in about five minutes.”
He looked at her for a moment and then gave her a spontaneous hug. “Hey, girl. We did it! We actually got through the show without mishap. Now we just wait. Jeez, I
hate
this part!”
“Me too.”
Out in the audience, the last of the models for the Verucci line, the last and most prestigious fashion house to participate, had just finished to tumultuous applause.
Gerard was busy making notes as Jeri looked on wide-eyed. As the applause died down, the Compere continued her smooth repartee.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure you’ll all agree that this was a superb collection of fashions from a number of outstanding designers. In the tradition of this event, we always insist that these beautifully talented and creative people get to receive their own special accolade from their peers and so, here, surrounded by their own beautiful, elegant models are the people who made this special evening possible.”
Behind the curtains, Vince had shepherded all Francine’s models around her as they waited for their call.
“So, first of all, ladies and gentlemen, here is the inimitable Enrico Verucci with his charming, elegant models!”
The crowd rose to their feet in spontaneous applause as the debonair Enrico cruised down the catwalk surrounded by beautiful, stunningly-dressed women.
As the applause finally died down the Compere continued, “And now, let’s hear your appreciation of ‘Classique’ Fashions, an exciting new design house, headed by its designer/owner, Ms. Francine Dubois!”
The heartwarming applause, at least to the finely tuned ears of Francine was like pure adrenaline as she made her way down the catwalk with all her models stepping jauntily alongside.
As they approached the ‘vulture pit’, she could see the polite applause from at least a third of those seated there, but even if not a single person were applauding, it would not have made a scrap of difference. Francine was on a cloud, a cloud that nobody was going to knock her off!
When they turned and headed back towards the stage, Francine noticed Gerard for the first time. He was standing there smiling at her, a strange look in his eye as though he were suddenly seeing her for the first time. Francine had not realized that this was the first time that the handsome business tycoon had actually seen her with her hair down, looking more beautiful and radiant than ever.
Next to Gerard, Jeri was applauding wildly as Francine gave her the tiniest of waves before they went back through the curtain.
But why wasn’t Gerard applauding? Did he not like her fashions? Was she still not measuring up in his eyes? All of a sudden, it didn’t seem to matter as Vince was pushing a bubbly glass of champagne into her hand with a huge grin on his face.
“Well, Princess,” he beamed. “That sure beat the hell out of the Dallas Show!’
She smiled ruefully. “And then some!” she hugged all the models briefly and then saved the biggest hug for Vince. “Well done, you guys!” she beamed.
Almost as she finished speaking, it seemed as if the Press were now on the move. Reporters and photographers were buzzing around everywhere backstage with Verucci and Iliac in the far corner being totally besieged as flash bulbs popped non-stop.
As the champagne and caviar continued to abound, Francine found herself being confronted by one of the middle-aged fashion mavens she had noticed in the ‘vulture pit’. He fixed her with a beady eye, almost like a bird about to dissect a worm. Francine in turn, flashed her best smile.
The man was down to earth, matter of fact, a no nonsense kind of reporter who looked like he had done this a thousand times and each time it had become more boring.
“Christopher Matlin - New York Times.” he began.
“How do you do, Mr. Matlin.” Francine answered politely.
“Chris will do,” he sounded the soul of brevity. “So, first time, hey?”
She kept her best smile switched on. “First time for what, Chris?”
A twinkle appeared momentarily in his eye before it disappeared. “First time in New York, I mean?”
She kept smiling. “Yes, that’s right.”
He stroked his chin lazily, as if thinking out loud. “Not bad, Kid. Not bad!” he continued stroking. “Needs a bit more polish, more pizzazz, but okay! You heading for Monte Carlo?”
Inwardly, she was screaming with joy as outwardly she tried to keep a polite calm face. So he thought it was okay. Heck, she would take ‘okay’ any day over the inconsiderate Gerard Cinclare’s mention of needing ‘major surgery’ back in Dallas.
She replied in a friendly, low voice. “As a matter of fact, yes, we’ll be in Monte Carlo. I take it you’ll be there also, Chris?”
He gave a wry smile. “You’re damned right I’ll be there,” then he looked around and leaned a little closer. “A word of advice, Ms. Dubois.”
She looked him straight in the eye unflinchingly. ‘Here it comes!
’
she braced herself.
In a quieter voice he simply added. “The finale needs work. Try and come up with something that’ll knock ‘em dead in the aisles!”
She smiled, at least inwardly, knowing full well that if her special red dress had been ready, she would indeed have had her big finale right there, whether or not it would have knocked them dead in the aisles was another matter. Keeping a straight, interested face, she put a friendly hand on his arm, lowered her voice a little further. “Thanks, Chris, I’ll work on it. See you on the Riviera, then?”
He gave a half-smile and mumbled the words. “You bet!” before he wandered off into the crowd, scribbling in a small note pad as he went.
‘Whew! That wasn’t so bad!’ she mused, only to be immediately besieged by a blowsy woman from the Chicago Tribune who apparently didn’t like a single item in her line!
And so, almost an hour after the show had ended, the reporters had their headlines and all the movers and shakers had moved on to one elegant party or another. Francine and Vince finished packing the clothes they brought and were ready to leave.
Up to this point, Francine had looked in vain to see if Gerard was heading in her direction, but he had been nowhere in sight. She also looked for Jeri who had seemed quite enthused earlier when Francine had walked past her on the catwalk.
So, where was the self-assured Mr. Cinclare? Just as she was about to leave the Auditorium, she heard a familiar voice behind her. It was Jeri.
“Francine, hang on a second?”
Francine stopped to let the elegant blonde catch up. “Hi, Jeri.” was all she could manage, still looking around for signs of her protector/tormentor, but he was still nowhere in sight.
Jeri approached and gave her a big hug. “Everything looked great, Francine, just great!”
“Well, thanks, Jeri,” she managed perhaps a little too stiffly. “And Mr. Cinclare’s opinion, since he doesn’t seem to be around?” she could have bitten off her tongue for asking the question, but there it was out and beyond retraction.
Jeri’s lovely face suddenly clouded over. “Oh, he liked it all right, Francine, but when it was over he had to rush to another meeting.”
Francine took it in stride. “Oh, I see.”
Jeri sounded almost apologetic. “I’m heading over there now to join him, then some dinner party or other later. I stayed on to place his orders and now I’ve got a cab waiting. Just wanted to tell you it looked great. Bye.”
Francine gave a lame wave of her hand. “Bye.” was all she mumbled as Jeri disappeared. Now she felt totally deflated. He had instructed Jeri to place his orders, but none of them were with
‘Classique’!
‘
Damn it
!’
was all she could manage to herself as Vince walked up, pleasantly tipsy, an almost empty glass in his hand.
“Guess what?” he cooed.
“What?”
“We’ve already had three orders for the pant suit!”
Somehow, the normally good news left her totally cold, unenthused, and empty. “Yes, but we didn’t get a bean from Cinclare!” she pouted.
He put his arm around her reassuringly. “So what, Princess?
That’s his loss. So, come on, snap out of it. You know, I
really
think we made a start tonight!”
She managed a brave smile. “I think you may be right. Now, how about another drink?”
“That’s my girl.” he purred as he ushered her towards the bar. When they reached the bar, Francine looked around suddenly realizing that she had not seen her erstwhile boyfriend until she spotted him in the far corner in polite, laughing conversation with the two well-endowed, older women, both elegantly dressed and almost jumping out of their cleavage to get at Roger.
Vince also noticed the scene and whispered a little venomously in Francine’s ear. “Looks like our boy has him an audience!”
Francine had also noticed the body language going on between the two women and Roger as the latter looked up and saw Francine and Vince watching him. He flashed his beaming smile, excused himself from the two women and came over.
“Just a couple of new acquaintances, darling,” he hastily mentioned in response to Francine’s tired, inquisitive look. “The one on the right, her husband owns the local TV affiliate to ours in Dallas.”
“Really?” Vince whispered sarcastically.
“But, the show, darling,” Roger was on a roll. “Everything looked great! You guys were terrific!”
Francine smiled at his smoothness. “Well, thank you, Roger.”
“So, what about celebrating? I know a great restaurant, just down the block?”
Francine held up her hand as if to slow him down. “I’d love to, Roger, but I’ve got a rather unpleasant chore to take care of first.”
“But, darling? What can possibly be that bad?”
“My ex-husband!”
Roger almost jumped back in a knee jerk reaction. “You mean?”
“Yes, he’s here in town and he’s being a royal pain in the ass!”
“So, so what do you have in mind?”
“Well, I’m going to see him tonight. Try and straighten him out. I don’t suppose you’d like to come along?”
Roger’s whole demeanor changed as he held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, baby, you know me. Ex-husbands and I don’t exactly mix.”
She nodded her head knowingly. “That’s okay, don’t worry, I can handle it.”
He couldn’t wait to move on. “You can? Great! So, where can we meet up later?”
Vince was looking skywards in disgust although he remained silent.
“You mentioned a restaurant?” she added.
“Yes, a couple of blocks south. “McCaffery’s’ - excellent steaks. What time?”
She thought for a moment. “Oh, I don’t know, about 9-45, I guess.”
“Perfect. I’ll make the reservations.” he leaned across and kissed her on the cheek. “Well, gotta go check in with the station, see you later, babe. Bye, Vince.”
Like a will-o-the-wisp he was gone. Francine, however, would have been really livid if she had seen the two women waiting near the taxi rank, ready to offer the smiling Roger a ride in their waiting limo, a liveried chauffeur standing at the ready.
Over a welcome glass of wine in the privacy of her room, during which Francine reflected on the events of the day, she had to admit that she was feeling quite pleased with the way things had gone. So this was the glitz and glamour of the Big Apple. A little more hectic than Dallas, but not that frightening.
Although she had not seen many of the other designs at the show due to being so engrossed in her own, she had picked up the odd bits of conversation that had indicated that she had done one thing if nothing else right. She had gauged the fashion trend to perfection and every item in her line had somehow fitted in with the new theme of pant suits with tight pants slightly flared and long slim-fitting jackets.
However, it was far too early to assess the level of orders they had earned or indeed to gauge the venom or otherwise of the fashion press in attendance. Breakfast time would no doubt be the time when the tabloids and major press would hit the streets. Then she would see amongst other things just what the enigmatic Mr. Chris Matlin had to say.
She lay back on the king sized bed and placed a call to Dallas. Alison answered on the first ring as if she had been waiting for the call.
“Dubois residence?” a sweet, child’s voice answered.
“Hi, sweetie, it’s Mommy.” Francine found herself smiling.
“Oh, hi, Mommy. I was waiting for your call. So, how did the show go, do tell?”
“Not bad, not bad, my darling. I guess we’ll know more in the morning when the newspapers come out.”
Alison was in no doubt concerning her mother’s ability. “Don’t worry, Mommy, It’ll be great. I bet you sell a bunch.”
“I hope so, darling. Is Mrs.‘T’ there?”
“Yep. Just hang on. I love you.”
“Likewise, my baby.”
“Hello, Francine,” the housekeeper said. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, fine. I was going to ask you the same question. No more unpleasant phone calls, then?”
Mrs.‘T’ was very guarded in her reply. “No, none at all. Are there any further instructions?”
“No, just do what you did last time if you-know-who calls.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
“Good. I’ll give you a call in the morning. Hopefully by then, I’ll have you-know-who sorted out.”
“I hope so, dear.”
“Me too!” Francine put the phone down before starting to get dressed, a purposeful look in her eye.
There was a light chill in the air as Francine walked the two blocks to ‘Mandolins’. The unending New York traffic droned by as a full moon rose slowly in a sky with a hint of frost to come.
Nostalgically, her mind wandered back to the past and to a time when life between her and Steve had actually had some tender moments. Her educational path through quality schools and universities had eventually hooked up with Steve’s who was on a music scholarship and with his winsome smile and musical talent, he had been a charming, if not completely responsible partner.