Shy Town Girls (10 page)

“
Wow, this looks
incredible.”

“
I know you need to get off to work,
but I just wanted to give you something.”

“
Something else?”

“
Man does not live by bread
alone—and neither does woman!” She handed me a small leather-bound
book. On top of it was a post-it note reading obscuris vera
involvens.

“
This helped me in my darkest of
times. Happy reading, dolly!” She laid a big kiss on my
cheek.

Chapter 11

During my lunch break, I sat down at my desk and
opened the book Barbara had given me. The title page read Obscuris
Vera Involvens. “In darkness lies truth.” I knew some Latin from my
mother forcing it down my throat growing up, as well as Italian,
Portuguese, and French. Life is nothing without knowledge of
romance, Roberta. I could still hear her voice ringing in my head.
But she was always more interested in the romance languages than
what actually went on between lovers.

The first page was handwritten in
perfect calligraphy: “
According to Greek
mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four
legs, and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split
them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives
in search of their other halves
.”

“
Slacking, darling?”

I looked up to see the striking face of Wolfgang
Lutz, my boss. I closed the book and gave him my full attention.
“Just taking a small lunch break,” I said. “Nice of you to drop
by.”

“
Bobbie,” he said, “I want you to go
try on that red Reem Acra dress in the studio.”

I looked at him stupidly. Did he get hit on the head
and confuse me with one of the models or something?

“
Long sleeves? Lace?” He said,
tapping his foot impatiently.

“
Yes, I know the one. .
.”

“
If it fits, it’s yours.” He threw a
large, fat envelope down on my desk. “And could you be a dream and
look these papers over for me? Tell me if those horrid people have
any sort of a leg to stand on.”

“
What is this?” I slid the papers
out of the envelope, fanned them out a little. “But these are all
concerning Jack’s clients, not mine.”

“
I realize that, but I want you to
look over the paperwork and tell me what you think. Jack’s been
super busy, and—” he cast a lingering glance over my neat desk and
my book, as if to imply that I wasn’t busy, or at least not busy
enough, “—and you have such a head for contracts. I always know I
can count on you.”

The flattery found its mark. Wolfe knew what
energized me, and he played right to it. After all, that was his
genius and explained why he ran one of the top modeling agencies in
the world.

“
Okay. So you want me to look over
the papers and. . . give you a report?”

“
Yes! A report. Perfect.”

“
By when? When do you need
it?”

“
Well, it won’t do me any good if
it’s not done immediately,” he said. “And Bobbie. . . don’t tell
Jack, or anyone else, that I asked you to do this.”

I bit my lower lip and frowned. “But if—”

“
Bobbie,” he said, interrupting me.
“Go try on that dress. Now.” He actually snapped his fingers at
me.

I made my way down the cold white hallway towards the
studio, opening the heavy steel door. There, on a rack with a
couple of other pieces, hung a beautiful lace dress in my own
trademark red. I wanted to touch it, and yet I was afraid I’d spoil
it somehow. Forgetting for a moment my wariness about this whole
deal of Wolfe’s, I carefully took the dress off the hanger and
walked towards the dressing room.

I stopped in my tracks when I heard crying from the
bathroom lounge. I opened the door and saw Lilly sitting on the
love seat with her hands over her face, tissues scattered
everywhere as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“
Lilly, are you okay?” I’d never
seen her like this. She was always so perky, almost like a golden
retriever.

She collected herself quickly, sitting up straight,
attempting to fix her crazed hair.

“
Peachy!” She forced a smile. Her
mascara formed dark rings under her eyes.

“
What’s going on?” I asked,
concerned, sitting down beside her.

“
I’m okay.” She leaned over and
hugged me. Even in grief she invaded my personal space. Watch the
dress!

“
My boyfriend cheated on me!” she
sobbed.

I awkwardly patted her back, attempting to console
her. For a moment it occurred to me to tell her we were in the same
boat, but something held me back. I wanted to think of myself as
somehow different than Lilly. She’s pathetic, I thought. Me,
I’m—what? Also pathetic. “Lilly, how old are you?”

“
Nineteen,” she
whimpered.

“
That’s right, you’re nineteen. By
the time I was your age, I had blown through dozens of boys, and
may I emphasize boys, not men.”

“
Of course you did. You’re
beautiful, and I know I’m ugly and awkward.” She sobbed
harder.

“
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
You’re not ugly or awkward. You are beautiful, creative, and one of
the most original girls I’ve ever known.”

“
Really?” She looked at me
hopefully.

“
Guys your age are young, immature,
and have absolutely no idea who they are yet. It doesn’t help that
women are surpassing them in everything. I think there’s even a
study that says our brains are more developed than theirs at that
age. A boy who cheats is a boy who is lost and doesn’t know what he
wants. Try to understand, it’s not about you. You don’t need a guy
to make you feel special. That’s your job.”

I felt guilty, giving her advice that I couldn’t
follow myself. Then again, talking to a nineteen-year-old did put
things in perspective. I had lived more life, dated more men,
traveled more places. All that experience had to count towards
something, right?

“
Yeah, you’re absolutely right,” she
said, sucking up her snot. “But it just hurts so bad.” She threw
her head onto my shoulder, wiping her tears away. “And I just feel
like, if only I was more. . .”

“
If you were more. . . what?
Beautiful? Talented? Witty?” She certainly couldn’t hope to be any
thinner, I thought.

“
Yes, all those things. And some
other stuff too.”

“
Okay, so what if you were all that.
Then what?”

“
He’d be knocking at my door,
wanting me back, and I could feel whole again.” She started sobbing
even louder. Oh the drama...

Back to square one. A strange part of me wanted to
hunt down the jerk who broke this innocent bird-like girl’s heart.
Seeing Lilly set back by one of life’s commonplace tragedies was
heart-wrenching. She had done nothing to deserve this pain. But I
guess a few bumps and bruises along the journey toward the pursuit
of love only makes you smarter in the long run. And why should
Lilly be deprived of such a valuable experience?

“
Lilly, you can choose to wallow in
self-pity, or you can ditch that insecure little boy who needs to
have more than one girl holding him up because he can’t support
himself on his own. I think you should go home, get a bottle of
wine or some ice cream, and be with your friends.”

“
Okay,” she said compliantly. She
fell into my arms with a big, awkwardly warm hug.

“
Thank you,” she whispered. “Only, I
try not to overindulge in alcohol or food.”

“
Fine,” I said with a laugh. “You’re
ahead of the game with that one! I think friends are the key
component, anyway.”

Her face crumpled up again. “But he was my very best
friend!” she wailed.

Lilly finally calmed down enough to go back to work.
After picking up the wet tissues and washing my hands, I kicked off
my shoes, undressed and slipped into the red lace Reem Acra. As I
pulled the zipper up and buttoned the three small buttons, I turned
to face the mirror, and. . . I smiled . . . broadly. I held my hair
up, then let it down, held it up, and let it down. Half up, half
down, curled. . . yes. I slipped on the heels I wore to the office,
even though they didn’t match the dress. My legs looked pretty
good, I thought. Dance classes with Ella must be paying off.

As I walked into the empty studio to look at myself
in the larger mirrors, my phone buzzed.

“
Hey, Meryl.”

“
So, I need a favor! Will you
please, please come to the Arts Convention with me on
Saturday?”

“
I thought you had a
date?”

“
My date, well. . . it’s not
happening.”

“
Ah, I’m sorry.”

“
It’s okay. I’ll tell you about it
later. So, can you go?”

“
Let’s get this straight,” I joked.
“You want me to get all glammed up to see Chicago’s hottest artists
with my best friend? I can think of nothing worse. But if you
insist, I will go. You owe me one,” I teased
melodramatically.

“
I love you. You know Ivy’s PR firm
is putting on the event, so she’ll be there too. Maybe she can
sneak Ella in. Girls’ night! Oh, stupid question, but do you have a
dress?”

“
Yes,” I said, checking myself in
the big studio mirrors. “I believe I do.”

“
Great. I don’t, so I’m going
shopping tomorrow after work. You wanna meet me? Help me find
something amazing?”

“
Shopping? It’s what I do
best.”

Behind me the studio door swung open, startling me. I
lost my balance. Oliver quickly stepped up and steadied me.

“
Whoa, sorry. I didn’t know anyone
was in here!” he said. His hands were firm, and they lingered on my
arms just a moment longer than necessary.

“
Meryl, I’ll call you back, okay?
Bye.” I hung up. “Hey, Olly!”

“
Sorry to startle you.”

“
Don’t be, really.”

“
What are you doing?”

I stood tall and presented my dress. “Wolfe gave it
to me.”

“
Wolfe gave it to you?” he asked
incredulously.

“
Yep. It was a bribe.”

“
A bribe? For what?”

“
Can’t tell you. It’s secret legal
business. So, do you like it?”

“
Yeah, looks great,” he said
expressionlessly. Not exactly the response I was looking for.
“Well, I was just looking for Lilly,” he said. “I thought I saw her
come in here.”

“
Looking for Lilly, huh?” I
questioned. “Oh, that’s right, she kind of likes you, doesn’t
she?”

“
She’s got some prints of mine, I
hope. Have you seen her?”

“
I have. But I don’t know where she
went.”

“
Well—” He hesitated, looked me up
and down. “Where’s my camera when I need it?” he murmured staring
at me. “I guess...I’ll see you later, Bobbie.” He turned to
go.

“
Wait, Olly,” I stopped him. “Before
you go, will you unzip my dress for me?” I turned
around.

“
Sure,” he said cautiously. I heard
him blow into his hands and rub them together. “Sorry, my hands
are--”

“
You’re fine,” I said. He stepped in
closer. I felt his hand on the top of my spine, fingers fumbling
with the buttons, hands not cold at all. When the three little top
buttons were undone, he slowly unzipped the dress.

“
There, yup--uh--anything
else?”

Was he nervous? How incredibly adorable, I thought,
laughing inside. “No, that’s all,” I said. “Thank you.” In the
mirror I could see him hurrying towards the door with his hands
shoved into his pockets. “Bye. . .”

“
I’ll see ya, Bobbie,” he called
with a wave, as something fell from his pocket—a pen. But he was
already gone.

I slipped off the dress, hung it back on the rack,
and got dressed in my work clothes. On my way out of the studio I
picked up Oliver’s pen, which was one of those personalized ones. I
did a double take. The white on black cursive script read: Oliver
Prince Gallery of Arts and Design.

But Oliver doesn’t have a gallery, I thought. I mean,
he’d often talked about putting something together, but I didn’t
think he’d actually got that far on it. . . Or had I been too
self-absorbed to notice?

I stuck the pen behind my ear and hustled to my
office, breezing past the secretaries, hoping they wouldn’t try to
stop me in hopes of delegating their duties. It was bad enough that
my boss did that to me all the time.

I made it through the gauntlet unscathed, and was
just about to shut my door.

“
Oh, Roberta—”

“
You rang?” I peeked my head out of
my office.

“
You’re behind on scheduling the
Brazilians for the Centennial shoot...” British Alice smacked her
gum.

Ah yes. The Centennial. The Centennial had been all
the rage at Fordham Agency for at least the past month or more. To
celebrate the 100th anniversary of Fordham Agency, we were pulling
in models from all over the world for a big photo shoot before the
holidays. Chicago was about to turn into a model mecca. The stress
in the office was magnified because we had only a short window in
which to conduct the shoots. LA’s Fashion Week started the day
after our last day of shooting, which meant that all of our models
needed to be there. Wolfe was running about the office like a
madman.