Spring Collection (41 page)

“I never said anything about changing your looks,” Maude cried out, still unable to believe how April had transformed her priceless classic purity.

“You’ll get used to it, darling, it’s still me, and I’ll prove it,” April laughed, and kissed her again, slowly, aggressively, defiantly. “Doesn’t that feel familiar? Listen, you guys can keep fighting over me to your heart’s content,” she said airily to Dart and Frankie. “Maude and I are going to have some champagne. Come on, darling, let’s find a waiter.”

“Sweet Jesus!” Frankie breathed under her breath.

“I hadn’t heard April was gay,” Dart Benedict said reflectively. “Interesting. And how brilliantly clever of dear old Maude to have figured it out.”

“It must be something in the water,” Peaches laughed delightedly, knowing that April’s startling arrival and that erotic second kiss, which had been observed by everybody in the room close enough to gawk, had made her party a mad success that would be a choice topic of conversation everywhere in Paris. Tomorrow her phone wouldn’t stop ringing.

“Peaches, sweet, of course she was, she just hadn’t found out,” Dart protested. “And it’s perfect timing, perfect! She’s kinky and exquisitely glamorous at the same time, trisexual, at the very least, more than a little threatening and deeply erotic, beyond grown-up, beyond funk, light years beyond waif, perfect for today … we’re all desperate for a new direction, something that isn’t recycled Cindy or that shiksa shepherdess, Claudia. April’s going to be
so fucking big
even
I
don’t believe it.”

“I’d like to hear what Marco will say when he sees her, that is if he ever bothers to honor us with his presence,” Peaches wondered, unable to hide her impatient longing.

“He just walked in,” Dart answered, looking over her head and beckoning to Marco, who brushed through the crowd toward him, with Tinker at his elbow.

The two men clasped each other in a bear hug surrounded watchfully by Peaches, Mike and Frankie. Unnoticed by anyone, Tom Strauss stood behind Mike.

“Remember the girl I phoned you about?” Marco said to Dart. “Voilà! I present Tinker Osborn, my muse, my lovely inspiration. How does she please you, old friend?”

“Your taste is improving, just when I thought it couldn’t get any better,” Dart answered, taking Tinker’s hand and brushing it briefly with his lips.

“Now I understand what Marco’s been raving about,” he added, still clasping her hand, and talking to the girl as intimately as if they were alone. “We were all wondering if he’d actually stop working long enough to bring you to the party. I can certainly see why he wasn’t in a rush to share anyone as beautiful as you with a crowd full of people. Marco, you’ve simply got to stop being so possessive.”

“When a man finds a woman who can make him dream, Dart, he wants to keep her close to him. But when that same woman can cause him to create—ah, then you don’t let her go if you can avoid it. Hands off, my friend,” Marco said, putting his arm firmly around Tinker’s waist. “I only told you about her, I didn’t
give
her to you.”

“Then you should never have introduced us. Tinker, I’ve just asked April to meet me tomorrow about doing some major magazine covers, and she’s agreed. I think I can do as much for you as I can do for her. Will you join us at nine? I want everyone who works in my Paris office to see you and brainstorm on the best ways to position you.”

“I have my tango lesson at ten but yes I—”

Tom Strauss moved quickly around Mike and jerked Marco’s arm away from Tinker’s waist. He grabbed Marco by the shoulders and shook him
fiercely. “You touch her again, you little shit, and I’m going to take you apart!”

Without warning, Marco punched Tom viciously in the midsection. Quickly Tom landed a brutal right to Marco’s jaw. Marco staggered, his lip bleeding, as Mike and Dart jumped in to separate the two men. Their combined efforts managed to stop the fight, while Frankie flew across the room to Necker’s side, speaking urgently into his ear.

“Tinker,” Tom said grimly, as he and Marco were finally quieted. “I’ll get your coat, we’re going home.”

“Tom! How
dare
you act like that? How could you? Are you completely crazy?”

“We’re leaving,” he insisted.

“But, but … I just got here!” Tinker sputtered furiously.

“Every time you come home you damn near fall down because you’ve been on your feet all day. Have they suddenly stopped hurting?”

“No,” Tinker answered, wearily, tears starting in her eyes at the roughness in his voice. “I’m in pain, all right. I’m always in pain. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to have a little fun. Oh, Tom, you
ruined
it! And I promised everybody that they’d meet you.”

“They’ll survive. We’re going home.”

“Tom, you can’t steal one of my guests of honor,” Peaches said sharply.

“The lady doesn’t want to leave,” Dart Benedict told Tom. “Haven’t you made enough trouble for now?”

“He’s the little boyfriend, Dart,” Marco spat out in contempt. “You ought to know they’re always jealous.”

“Oh, stop it everybody!”
Tinker’s voice rose above the sound of the party, a shrill sharp scream of rising hysteria. “Just stop it,
stop it!”

“It’s all right, Tinker.” Jacques Necker loomed up behind her, tucking Tinker’s arm protectively under his, as Frankie stood beside him. Tom, Marco and Dart all fell silent at the authority of his tone.

“Now, all of you,
everybody
, I suggest that you leave Tinker to me for a few minutes. I’d like to find out how she’s bearing up under her schedule.” He looked directly at Dart.

“Mr. Benedict, April, Tinker and Jordan are all under contract to me until the Lombardi show is over. I don’t want them distracted by your attempts at poaching. Is that understood?”

“Monsieur Necker, I assure you—”

“You heard me, Mr. Benedict. No poaching. Not if you want to do business with any of my companies again. Now Tinker, you and I are going into the other room and have a nice, quiet talk.”

Peaches glanced around the circle of antagonists left by Tinker’s departure. Marco, his lips pressed together in rage, blood on his collar, refused to even look in her direction.

“I’d better go play hostess,” she faltered, and turned on her heel, plunging back into the fascinated, still-watching crowd.

“The cavalry to the rescue?” Dart sneered, raising an eyebrow at Frankie. “Nice work but it’ll only work once. Even Necker can’t be everywhere.”

“Maude will kill herself for missing all this, Benedict,” Mike said. “I’ll fill her in.
Zing’s
readers will be fascinated by your hustle.”

“Just spell my name right. Marco, let’s get a drink.”

“And then there were three,” Frankie said. “Tom, I’m Frankie Severino and this is Mike Aaron.”

“Hi. I’m sorry about that but I couldn’t stand there and watch those two bastards treating Tinker as if she were a piece of meat. She didn’t even realize it … shit, is it always going to be like this, flattery mixed with slime, everyone trying to use her?”

“They happen to be particularly repulsive, but pretty typical I’m afraid,” Mike answered, with solid concern. “It isn’t always that bad, is it, Frankie? Frankie? Now where the hell did she disappear to? Oh, right, Frankie’s mad at me too. Peaches is some piece of
work, you’ve got to say that for her. Hey, Tom, great punch, guy. No, waiter, no champagne, thanks, bring us two double Scotches, no ice.”

I’d had it! Enough already! I beat it the hell out of that party and got on the phone to Justine. Listen, I said, April’s turned herself into some kind of inter-galactic slut but it’s nothing I could have prevented. She’ll stop the show, one way or another. But Dart Benedict is here propositioning our girls and if you don’t get your ass on the next Concorde he’s going to move in big-time. The only thing that broke it up, at least for now, was your old man. April and Tinker were all set to meet with Dart tomorrow. How? I told Necker that Dart was trying to steal your girls, that’s all. What more does a father need to know? He took over damage control. Plus Tinker’s boyfriend tried to kill Lombardi, unfortunately without success. You’ve got a problem with Tinker too. Something’s wrong there. Jordan’s the only one I feel is solid. We can share this suite, I’ll expect you tomorrow. I’ll send the car. Start packing.

I was so mad I hung up on her, not waiting for Justine to agree or say good-bye. I knew she’d be here tomorrow and high time. How long could she continue to thrust her responsibility on me?

After I’d finished yelling at my boss, I realized that the party was still going on and it was my duty to get back to it. But I had to sit down for a few minutes, take deep breaths, and talk to myself sternly. So Peaches and Mike had had a fling seven years ago—I could live with that. But what about all the other girls she’d accused him of? He hadn’t denied anything. He’d told me himself there’d been a lot of girls in his life but he hadn’t loved any of them. I
couldn’t
be destined to be one of the string of women he’d lost interest in. I had to believe that I was different for Mike—the final girl, the one he’d been looking for—or I’d spoil everything we had. What we had
was
everything, for me anyway. But my little bubble had definitely been pricked.

After I’d given myself this wise advice I had a really good, really loud, five-minute old-fashioned cry that traveled all the way from my toes to the ends of my hair. I repaired my makeup and went back to the festivities. Was it just this morning that I’d actually been looking forward to them?

J
ustine glared at the phone receiver in her hand as if by sheer mental force she could eliminate the flood of words that it had just brought her. Playing for time, she forced herself to concentrate on the fact that Frankie had hung up on her. Actually flat-out
banged
down the bloody phone. An unthinkable act of downright mutiny, an unleashed exhibition of flagrant rudeness. Ha! So that was the thanks she got from someone she’d done everything for! Give a girl a job, promote her, let her worm her way into your affections, allow her to become your second-in-command, wangle her a trip to Paris, buy her a wardrobe of new clothes, make it possible for her to attract a man who never would have looked at her otherwise, and of course she turns into a viperous ingrate, so high and mighty and full of herself that she starts giving duchessy orders … “Start packing” … “I’ll send the car” indeed!

However, even Justine’s formidable powers of denial were unable to focus exclusively on Frankie, no matter how satisfactory that felt. Soon she was forced to try to process the information she’d just received. The notion that April would become any kind of a slut was absurd. If anything was bothering Tinker, Frankie had only suspicion. Lombardi was still in one piece.

Which left nothing to really worry about except Dart Benedict.

“Phyllis,” Justine said, buzzing her secretary, “get
me a seat on the next Concorde, and if they don’t have one, tell them I’ll stand in the aisle or sit in a cage in the baggage compartment like a dog.”

Dart Benedict. How could she not have expected this? What the fuck else would that criminal be doing in Paris days before the collections started but trying to steal her girls? How many of her New York-based girls had he already reached, girls who hadn’t yet found the courage to tell her that they were jumping ship? And what about her bookers? Which of them were busy making copies of all her computerized files, filled with invaluable information, quietly getting ready to flit in the night? Did she still have an agency or was it about to fall apart? And wasn’t it all her fault?

If she hadn’t let Dart know that she was wise to his sickening little lunchtime orgies, if, instead, she had strung him along, pretending to be flattered by his desire to go into business with her, if she had told him that she’d be talking to her financial advisors about it and getting back to him, none of this would have happened.

Dart would be on his best behavior with her for months … she could have strung it out almost indefinitely if she’d been even semi-smart. But no, she’d had to show that she was as tough as he was, that she was too independent to be co-opted into his agency, she’d had to challenge him. She must have had a turd for a brain that day. It had never been about Dart, it had been about Aiden. But basically the fight with Aiden was really all about Necker. And now Necker had stepped into her world again, and, if Frankie, that pretentious, cocky bitch, was to be believed, and of course she was, Necker had done her a major favor.

Okay, Justine thought, this was the moment to look at her options. Coldly, dispassionately, unblinkingly. Option time, she thought, writing the words on top of a fresh yellow pad.

Option One, she wrote, and underlined the words. For a long while she sat, gnawed by confusion. No, maybe it would be easier to write down the options she
didn’t
have, so as to make Option One stand out inevitably from the rest.

“You’ve got the last seat on the Concorde tomorrow,” Phyllis’ voice came through the intercom. “And five girls want to see you about problems with their bookings that the bookers can’t handle.”

“Tell them to wait a half hour. I’m clearing my decks,” she said, bent over the pad.

It wasn’t a long list, Justine thought, considering it. Praying and not sharing a suite with Frankie were the only items she could cross off. Unfortunately she had to admit that love-struck drivel about Mike was exactly what she was looking forward to hearing. And prayer was always a good idea, just in case.