Love Redesigned Page 11

  I closed my laptop with a weary sigh and stood from the concrete bench in the corner of the side garden. The garden was frequently the quietest place in Isaac’s house. Fortunately, our other roommates didn’t spend very much time outside.

  “Should I get you a bell you can ring whenever you want to find me?” I dropped my laptop onto the table and gave Isaac a wry look. “A cowbell, maybe? Or one of those gongs used to call people—”

  Isaac shushed me and motioned to his phone laying face up on the kitchen table.

  So he was on a call.

  “Rizzo, I get it, man, but it’s too late to restructure. Invites have already gone out. Your name is on all of our promotional materials.”

  My jaw tensed. Rizzo backing out would not be good for the event. I shot Isaac a questioning look.

  He shrugged his shoulders, then waved his hands in front of him, a clear mark of his annoyance.

  “I don’t want to drop out,” Rizzo said, his voice calm and smooth. “I want you to give me what I want.”

  “Explain, please,” I whispered to Isaac.

  “Hey Rizzo, hold on a minute, will you?” Isaac pressed mute without waiting for Rizzo to respond. “He doesn’t want to contribute to the cash prize.”

  I scoffed. “Seriously? It’s only four grand. He makes that much in twenty minutes.”

  “And,” Isaac continued, “he doesn’t want to stop charging for his live stream.”

  “Wait, I don’t understand. What do you mean charging for his live stream?”

  Isaac raked a hand through his hair. “A lot of YouTubers do it. When they live stream, you make a donation in exchange for access to the feed. For the event, we’ve asked that the donations go to charity instead of to the content creator.”

  “Right. Of course. That’s the entire point of the event.”

  “Except, he thinks that’s asking too much. He says he’s willing to match whatever my live stream brings in, but anything above that is his to keep.”

  “Great guy,” I said. “So generous.”

  “Tell me about it,” Isaac said.

  “What he’s not thinking about is what backing out would do to his public image.” I reached over and unmuted the call. “Hey, Rizzo, Alex here.”

  “Hey, Alex, my man. You talk some sense into Isaac for me?”

  Ha. Not exactly. “I want you to answer a question for me.”

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  “How long does it take you to make four thousand dollars?”

  He was silent a moment, then he chuckled. “Not very long.”

  “We aren’t changing the terms of our original agreement. You made a commitment and we’re holding you to it. You’re free to back out if that’s what you decide to do, but if that happens, I want you to know I’ll be obligated to work up a press release explaining exactly why you backed out of the event—the charity event that has the potential to bring in thousands and thousands of dollars to benefit America’s underprivileged neighborhoods. I might mention how long it takes you to make four thousand dollars and will be sure to make the point that, in your mind, the small amount of time it takes you to make more money than what most of your viewers earn in weeks, even months, was more important to you than your participation.”

  “It’s not just about the four grand—”

  “Are you confident your public image could stand the hit of being the guy who backed out of a charity event because of his own greed?”

  “Now you’re just playing dirty,” Rizzo said.

  “No, playing dirty would be including a picture of your multi-million-dollar mansion in the press release.”

  He was silent for a beat before finally relenting. “Fine.”

  I smiled. “Always a pleasure to talk with you, Rizzo. We’ll see you in December.” I hung up the phone and Isaac let out a whoop of victory.

  He straightened an imaginary tie and slipped on a pair of imaginary sunglasses. “Always a pleasure to talk with you, Rizzo,” he said in an exaggerated Southern accent. “We’ll see you in December.”

  I socked him in the arm. “You’re welcome.”

  “Seriously, you are one convenient man to have around,” Isaac said.

  “I have a list of things I need you to go over when you have time,” I said, moving to the fridge. I pulled out the leftovers from last night’s Chinese takeout. I opened the container and sniffed. Maybe it wasn’t last night. “When was the last time we had Chinese?”

  “The fact that you can’t remember probably isn’t a good sign.”

  I tossed the leftovers into the trash, instead grabbing an apple from the basket on the counter. “I talked to the event planner this morning. She had questions about the food and sent over a few different designs for the decorations. She wants you to pick the one you like the most.”

  “It’s happening on Christmas Eve. I assumed it’d be decorated for Christmas.”

  “The designs are all holiday-themed, just different styles. You’ll see what I mean when I send them over.”

  “Cool. I’ll take a look. But you know you could probably just decide and never tell me we’d actually had options and I wouldn’t know the difference.”

  “You and Dani really aren’t anything alike, are you?”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Not hardly. You should send her the designs. She’d know exactly which one to pick.”

  A pang of regret pulsed through me. Dani would know. She’d be the perfect person to consult. Instinctively I reached for my phone.

  She hadn’t texted, not since she’d asked me about Sasha. But that didn’t stop me from compulsively checking for new messages. I dropped the phone back on the table, annoyed that I could so easily forget the reasons why I’d left. I’d only ever wanted to escape the LeFrancs and the world they lived in. I couldn’t do that with Dani. She was too connected. Too loyal.

  An image of my mom flashed through my mind, one arm looped through Alicio, the other resting casually on a ten-year-old Victor’s shoulder. Gabriel stood beside him, his hand holding onto the hem of my mother’s jacket. It was a popular photo—one of the first ones that popped up when you googled Alicio’s name.

  Just the four of them.

  Their perfect little happy family.

  Dani hadn’t been the only person to choose LeFranc over me.

  My phone dinged with an incoming text and I lunged for it, grateful for the distraction, hating that I couldn’t tamp out the hope that the message might be from Dani.

  My shoulders fell, but I typed out a response anyway.

  “Who’s texting?” Isaac asked. “Somebody terrible?”

  I shook my head. “Jasmine. Confirming our date for this weekend.”

  “Wow,” Isaac said, his expression even. “I can already tell it’s going to be a party and a half.”

  “Shut up,” I said, tossing my apple core into the trash. I left the kitchen, grabbing my laptop off the table on the way, and headed to my room.

  I would go on a date with Jasmine.

  I gritted my teeth.

  I would go and I would have fun.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dani

  Two days of sneaking around, following Sasha and tracking her every move at LeFranc and I finally had my proof. It came in the form of a tiny Swedish tailor named Julian who spoke terrible English, but not so terrible that I couldn’t milk out the information I needed.

  After an uncomfortable back and forth in the elevator, he confirmed that yes, he was working with Sasha on her wedding gown. Not designing. Just altering, tweaking a dress that was already made. The thought of my gown being tweaked to fit her body made me feel sick, but I pushed aside the discomfort. If I had any hope of getting it back, I had to stay focused.

  Back at my desk, I sent Chase a text. Basement. 3:30 PM. Outside the elevators.

  Message received, he texted back.

  Chase was already in the hallway when the elevator finally deposited me on LeFranc’s bottom floor at 3:37 PM. He
leaned against the wall, his foot nervously tapping against the floor. “What took you so long?” he asked, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the elevator.

  “I couldn’t get rid of Mylie,” I said. “She kept asking me questions about Hank up in accounting.”

  “Hank? Really?” He motioned to his head. “With the . . . hair thing?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe she likes bald guys?”

  “No, no. Being bald is different than being bald and wearing a toupee. You’re not allowed to put both kinds of men in the same category.”

  I looked up and down the hallway. “Have you seen anyone else?” I asked him.

  “Are you kidding? No one ever comes down here. I don’t think these rooms have been used since we made all our clothes in-house.”

  I started down the hallway, motioning for Chase to follow. “Which is exactly why Sasha would meet Julian down here.”

  “Who’s Julian?”

  “He’s the tailor who’s altering Paige’s dress to fit Sasha. At least, I think he is.”

  “Ohhh, the plot thickens.”

  I tried a door to my left. Locked. “We’ve got to find a place to hide.”

  “What? Right now?”

  I glanced at my watch. “She has a fitting scheduled at four. If I can just see the dress and know for sure, then . . .”

  “Then what?”

  I sighed and looked at Chase. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll figure it out when it happens.”

  Chase crossed his arms. “Dani, this could cost you your job.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “I know that. But I can’t let her steal the dress. How would I ever tell Paige?”

  He nodded. “I get that. It’s just . . .” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m here for you, all right? You know I’ve got your back. But I can’t lose my job. On principle, I wish I could, but Darius’s mom isn’t doing great and we’ve been sending money to her every month, and there’s—”

  “Chase.” I stopped him. “I would never ask you to jeopardize your job.”

  He shook his head, his eyes full of sadness. “It’s not right what she’s doing to you.”

  “It’s not right that I’ve let her get away with it for so long.” I took a deep breath. “Just be my moral support, all right? Stay hidden with me; don’t let me lose my nerve.” I tried the next door in the hallway, expecting it to be locked, and almost hit the ground when it swung open, depositing me into one of LeFranc’s old workrooms.

  Chase followed me in and reached for my elbow, steadying me. “You okay?”

  I nodded, giving the room a quick scan. I looked over Chase’s shoulder. “Do you see a light switch?”

  Chase glanced at his phone. “I wouldn’t risk the light. She could be down here any second.” He turned on his flashlight app and swept it around the room. “What if the fitting is happening in here?”

  “The dress would be here if it was,” I said. “She wouldn’t risk carrying it around the office.”

  “But she wouldn’t just leave it down here in an unlocked workroom either,” Chase said.

  The debate became pointless when we heard the elevator ding from down the hallway. Chase’s eyes went wide. “What now?” he whispered.

  I motioned Chase out of the doorway and pulled the door to the mostly closed position, leaving a tiny crack of light seeping into the dark room. “We wait,” I whispered back.

  Seconds later, what had to be Sasha’s high heels clicked down the hallway, the shuffle of someone else’s footsteps following behind her. “I do hope you managed to fix the hemline,” Sasha said. “It must be perfect in time for the photoshoot next week.”

  I gripped Chase’s hand. Photoshoot?

  Sasha neared the door that hid Chase and me from view, keys jangling in her hand. My heart pounded in my chest, and I squeezed Chase’s hand even tighter. There’d be no explaining if she found us hiding together in the basement.

  “If she opens that door,” Chase whispered into my ear, “we’re going to start making out.”

  I held back a snort, my near panicked state making his comment seem even funnier than it was. “Don’t make me laugh!” I whispered back.

  When Sasha passed by, we both breathed a sigh of relief. We listened as she opened a door further down the hallway. “Julian, why is this door unlocked?” she said, her voice shrill. “Didn’t I tell you to always lock the door behind you? I can’t risk anyone seeing this dress before the reveal.”

  Julian muttered something I couldn’t understand. My heart dropped into my gut as I realized what her comment implied. Had I searched a minute or two longer, I might have found the dress, unlocked, unprotected.

  “You wouldn’t have made it out of LeFranc before she caught you,” Chase said, clearly reading my mind. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

  I swallowed, my throat dry and tight. “I know.”

  “Now what?” Chase asked for the second time.

  I took another long breath, willing my nerves to calm down, squeezing my trembling hands into fists. “Now I go and confront her.”

  Chase took me by the shoulders. “Don’t let her walk all over you, Dani. You’ve got this.”

  I nodded. “Wish me luck.”

  It’s not like I didn’t know what to expect. I knew she’d stolen my dress. I knew she was planning on wearing it. But it still felt like a full-on punch to actually see her in it. The door to the workroom where Julian had been working swung open with a squeak. Sasha spun around, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “You have some nerve,” I said, my voice icy cold.

  She smirked. “Dani. How lovely to see you.”

  “I want my dress back. Now.”

  “Your dress?” She ran her hands down the front, a possessive glint in her eye. “I don’t think so.”

  I stood there, frozen by her gall, her utter disrespect for anything but her own shallow desires. “You told me Paige would still get to wear the dress.”

  She slid her hands over the lace that cascaded down the front of the dress. “But I’m wearing it so much better, don’t you think?”

  “You can’t do this. I’ll . . .” Fury ate my words. I’d what?

  “Tell the boss?” She grinned and walked toward me, her hands on her hips. “Go ahead and try. You want to place bets on whose side Alicio will take?” She stopped in front of me, her eyes holding mine with a ferocity that immediately made me feel sick. Because I could see, with perfect clarity, just how far Sasha would go to get ahead. And how little she actually cared about me.

  “You never intended to let me design with you, did you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You’re a good designer, Dani. But you’d never make it in this industry. Fashion is cutthroat. And you, with your little doe-eyed innocence and trust, would never make it. You’d be eaten alive. Really, I’m doing you a favor by telling you the truth now.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. “I’ll expose you. I have . . . proof. My sketches, my designs.” I swallowed. “I’ll take it to the press.”

  She grimaced, leaning forward with a menacing stare. “Go ahead and try,” she seethed. “It’ll be my word against yours and I guarantee I have a lot more friends in the press than you do.” She reached out and gripped my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh. “You don’t want to fight with me, Dani. I play dirty. You breathe one word against me to anyone, anywhere, and I’ll make sure you never work in fashion again. You’ll be ruined in New York. No internships. No working as an assistant. When I’m through with you, you’ll be lucky to get a job designing big-box store knock-offs.” She finally released her grip on my arm. “Or you can go back upstairs like a good girl and pretend like this never happened. Your choice.”

  I breathed through my nose, anger and frustration roiling inside me. “I’ll make another dress,” I said, indignant. “I still have the designs. You’ll be the one wearing a knock-off. A copy.”

  “Oh, sweetie, it’s so cute you think anyone would believe tha
t I’m the one who stole from you.”

  She smiled and crossed back to Julian, who stood patiently, tape measure around his neck, pins in his hand. She stepped onto a stool in front of him, and he bent over, adjusting the hem of the dress to accommodate Sasha’s smaller-than-Paige frame.

  “You won’t get away with this,” I said, but the fire had already fizzled from my voice.

  “That’s just it, Dani,” Sasha said through a sneer. “I already have.”

  I took a step backward, still furious, but too defeated to keep pushing. I retreated to the door but then turned back. “You know what?” I said. “I feel sorry for you. It must be hard keeping up the façade—convincing everyone that you actually have talent. I wonder how long you’ll be able to keep it up? Especially since you won’t have me to steal from anymore.” I reached for the door handle. “I quit.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alex

  “She really was like my best friend,” Jasmine said, for what felt like the fifteenth time. After lunch at The Brown Dog Deli, we wandered around downtown until we hit the battery, aimlessly wandering past centuries-old mansions and sprawling live oaks. It was a warm afternoon for fall—almost too warm—which only added to my discomfort.

  Jasmine had been talking about Dani nonstop.

  I had to wonder if she knew Dani and I had a history. Constantly talking about an ex-girlfriend seemed like a weird way to spend a date. But then I figured out Jasmine didn’t actually care about Dani. Or me. It was all about Isaac.

  “We shared a cabin at summer camp one year, did I tell you that?” Jasmine said.

  I nodded. “You did. So have you been up to see her then? In New York?”

  Jasmine paused. “Oh. No, well, I’m not super big on traveling.”

  Right. I bet that was it.

  “Isaac goes to New York a lot, right? Does he take you with him? As his assistant?”