Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye, page 15
Leia’s half-mast eyes blinked lazily, the cobwebs refusing to clear. A tall elf? Gawd, Shantelle! I hate when you drunk-text me. She broke into a breath-halting yawn and read on.
Shantelle: Are you sleeping? God, time zones are the worst! Okay, I’ll TELL you then. I’m at a party with Will Ferrell—you know, ELF! Live…from New York…
Leia’s head snapped back. What? She squinted at the screen, re-reading Shantelle’s words. Live from New York? Oh! Her jaw dropped. “Oh, Saz! Shantelle’s at an SNL after-party!”
Sarah’s eyes bulged. “Saturday Night Live? How on earth did she get in?”
“I told you, didn’t I? She’s having a moment.”
“I HATE when people say that!” Sarah stuck out her tongue. “It’s right up there with ‘She’s living her best life.’ What else does she say?”
“I’ll read it to you.” Leia cleared her throat.
Shantelle: Crazy, right? We’re surrounded by celebs! It all started when the guys won tonight—Morgan scored the OT winner! SO PROUD of my man! An SNL producer texted him after the game & invited us here. You’d laugh. Ty’s losing to Kristen Wiig in beer pong!
Leia paused, her nose scrunching like she smelled something rotten.
“Tyler’s there too?” Sarah craned her neck, angling toward the tiny screen in her sister’s hands. “Shantelle’s socializing with him?”
Leia nodded, immersed in her phone. “Well, Morgan is Tyler’s defense partner. They’re best friends, pretty much.”
“Like that’s not super awkward.”
I knew she’d say that. “I can be friends with Shantelle and Morgan without seeing Ty, you know. She’s always had my back.” Scrolling, scrolling, Leia’s thumb was on a mission. “She was there for me when it mattered, after the fire. No one else was.”
“I was!” Sarah protested. “And Dad.”
“I didn’t mean you guys—of course you were amazing. I meant Erika, the other wives—they weren’t there for me.” A stinging sensation prickled the back of Leia’s nose as her finger slowed its wild scrolling, nudging away Shantelle’s rambling mentions of Lizzo and chopitos. “One whiff of scandal and I was on my—” Her eyes popped. “Oh?!” No, really? She blinked at the screen and read the words again.
upcycled gown…red carpet…March 28
A burst of adrenaline shot through her. “Holy shit!” Sniffing her nose, she looked up from the screen, her mouth agape. “She meant it! She really meant it! Shantelle wants me to dress her for a premiere in March!”
“Seriously?!” Sarah’s gleeful stare collapsed. “But—I though you said her movie wasn’t out for months?”
“The gown isn’t for her premiere, it’s—I’ll read it to you.” Leia licked her lips, her smile reflecting back from the screen.
Shantelle: Scotty, please tell me you’re home soon? I need an upcycled gown for the New York red carpet of A Promise Unspoken on March 28.
Leia glanced at her sister. “This is bananas! Simon’s actor friend is in that movie.” She dove back in, reading aloud.
Shantelle: The film’s director is friends with my director & the studio wants me to BE SEEN. I want to look cute! But can we scrap what we discussed before? I’ve kinda changed my mind. Please don’t hate me!
“She changed her mind?” Sarah arched a brow. “How considerate.”
Leia shook her head. “No, it’s fine. We talked red carpet looks ages ago. Shantelle used to love short hems and sequins…” She dipped her chin and resumed reading the messages out loud.
Shantelle: I’d like floor-length, no sparkle. Make my ass look fierce & everything else is up to you. I TRUST you! You’ve got my measurements, right? Let me know if you need anything else. Btw, if you style me that night, too, I can make sure you get a nice payday from the film studio! Plus, I need you there by my side!
Leia’s smile crinkled her eyes. “Yesssssss, she shoots, she scores!” Squeezing her phone, she punched the air in triumph, a playful laugh escaping her lips. “I knew she’d come through! She might be hard to pin down sometimes, but when she makes a promise…”
“So, you’ll get paid for styling her, but not for the actual gown?” asked Sarah.
“Yeah. Most designers loan their dresses to celebs for big events. They rarely get paid. It’s all about exposure and press coverage. A single mention of a designer’s name on the red carpet can result in thousands of dollars in future sales.”
Falling back into the couch’s cushions, Leia dropped her phone on the blanket and let out a breathy sigh, her lips sliding into another massive smile. This could change everything. “Just imagine, Shan posing in my gown, cameras snapping away as she tells reporters she’s wearing sustainable fashion from Frill-Seekers. Celebs will see my gown. The fashion world will see my gown! What if they want to meet me, collaborate, interview me for Vogue…?!”
Sarah’s concerned frown didn’t stand a chance against Leia’s cheek-aching grin. She gave in and flashed the smile Leia loved, all shiny brown eyes and almost perfect teeth. “I can see it now: my sister, fashion’s new IT girl! Captivating buyers, seducing shoppers, sharing her passion for clothing with a conscience in celebrity gossip columns—” Sarah froze, her face souring over the words she couldn’t take back. “I mean”—she cleared her throat—“I know you’ve been featured before, but…”
Yeah—for all the wrong reasons. A tingling sensation unsettled Leia’s heart and her sunny smile faded as colorful Manhattan gossip pages scrolled through her mind, memories of being hounded, of her self-esteem being torn to shreds. All those photos—private moments and embarrassing revelations splashed across the web for strangers to devour. Erika’s wedding reception… the police car on our curb… Her jaw tensed. The babies.
Scrunching her eyes, Leia bowed her head and swallowed hard. What if they dig for more dirt? Or make shit up? She shifted back on Sarah’s couch, its groaning springs in unison with Jordan’s sharp snores. Could I survive that again? Maybe putting myself out there in public with my designs isn’t the smartest idea. Her gaze lingered over Shantelle’s texts. Oh, I know what you’d say, Ms. Joy: “Take a deep breath, give fear the middle finger, and jump in!” Leia toyed with her phone. Shantelle is always offering ‘carpe diem’ advice. And she’s right—I can’t let what-ifs derail Frill-Seekers. Not when I’ve overcome so much. A flutter of purpose filled her chest. “This time will be different. It’ll have nothing to do with Tyler or the fire—” She cut herself off, her face softening. “I’ll be on those pages because I did something special, something Mom would be proud of.” Her eyes skipped to her sister. “Saz, I want that more than anything. I want you guys to be proud of me.”
“Aw, we are proud of you, Ley! We never stopped, you silly boo.” Sarah inched her chair closer and clasped Leia’s hand. “I know it’s been shit, but you got through it. I wouldn’t have coped half as well.”
“But that’s the thing—I didn’t cope. I was a total mess. I broke down completely.”
“And you’re surprised?” Sarah widened her eyes. “After what he did to you? Lots of guys cheat, but Tyler”—she shook her head—“Tyler dropped a nuclear bomb in more ways than one. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Yeah, but…” Leia twisted her lips. “Punching him in the face wasn’t my finest moment.”
“Like hell it wasn’t!” Sarah squeezed her sister’s hand and let go. “You broke the asshole’s nose and made him squeal! I would’ve paid good money to see that, and I know I’m not the only one.”
Leia let out a small chuckle before falling silent, her fingers tugging a loose thread on the sleeve of her pajamas. “You know, this is it, Saz…the chance I’ve been waiting for since Brooke.” The mere mention of that name stole the air from Leia’s lungs. She took a moment and started again. “Dressing Shantelle might help salvage my reputation.”
“You will salvage it, Ley. But this turnaround—is it doable? Two months…”
“It’ll be tough, but I’m up for the challenge,” said Leia. “I’ve been sketching ideas for weeks, so I’m ahead of the game. I’ll plug her measurements into CAD, use a 3D model, and tweak my top five choices. Then, I’ll email Shan the mock-ups so she can pick her favorite.”
“All without sewing a single stitch. Technology, eh?”
“I know, right?” Leia let out a heavy breath. “Once she chooses, I’ll start draping—provided I’ve found the right fabric. I’ll search online later. There’s bound to be dead stock suppliers nearby. I can’t waste a second. It’s gotta be go, go, go.”
“Little Miss Busy is back in business.” Sarah smiled. “I guess you won’t have time for much else. It’s good last night’s sex adventure was a bust.”
What? Leia furrowed her brow. “No, it wasn’t a bust.” She scratched her bedhead. “Tarquin was amazing. He’s definitely talented—in more ways than one.” She sat back, remembering him between her thighs, his tongue warm and persistent, making her climax again and again. A blush rose on her cheeks. “Why’d you think last night was meh?”
“You came home early. I hope you took a cab—the Night Tube can be sketchy.”
“Tarquin drove me.”
“Drove you?” Sarah’s voice rose, a soft smile tweaking the corners of her mouth. “From Shad Thames? That’s easily an hour-long round trip.”
Leia nodded, her eyes falling to the floor and the umbrella she had lent him days earlier. “Well, he offered…”
“Sweet! How many guys would leave a warm bed in the middle of the night for a girl they barely know?”
“In my experience, none.” Leia plucked the pen from her gratitude journal. He was lovely. Ignoring my scar, wanting to spend the day with me, wanting to cook for me… so attentive and caring like—oh. Shit! Like he was auditioning to be my boyfriend. She bit her cheek. I can’t tell Sarah all this. She’ll get more excited and have us married off before I fly home.
“So, why kiss goodbye to a kind, hot Brit with amazing stamina and morning wood?”
“Oh my god!” Leia swept her hair off her shoulders, twisting it into a bun. “I’m so not talking to you about that!” She stabbed her pen through her messy up-do, keeping it in place. “I left because cuddling and staying for breakfast are things couples do, and we are not a couple.”
Sarah lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing into a squint behind her glasses. “Nice hickey.”
What? Leia winced. “Where?!” Her hands flew to her throat. “I didn’t see it last night.”
“The hollow by your collarbone. Left side,” said Sarah. “He’s a bit of a keener, eh?”
Fuck. Leia grabbed her phone and opened the camera app. How bad is it?
“When are you seeing him again?”
Reversing the camera, Leia angled the screen in front of her neck. “I dunno.” She tilted her head and tugged her pajamas aside. Ah, jeez! Tarquin’s amorous souvenir earned a frown and a terse “Ugh.” This is my fault, telling him to kiss me hard. She closed her eyes tight for a beat and dropped her phone in her lap, but her fingers fled back up to her stretched collar, yanking it over the purple mark. “We had fun, but…I think we want different things.”
“What? Anal?”
Leia snorted out a laugh. “Saz! No! I think he might be looking for something more than sex.”
“Didn’t you discuss that?”
“Yeah, but still. It’s just a feeling I have.” Leia closed the neck of her pajamas one button at a time ensuring that Jordan—when he snored himself awake—wouldn’t spot Tarquin’s love bite and piggyback on Sarah’s teasing.
Sarah scooped up her Will and Kate mug. “I think you’re overreacting.” She peered inside and sneered at the cold dregs of last night’s milky tea swirling in the bottom of the cup.
“No, I’m being cautious. I can’t get involved with someone who wants something I can’t give.”
“Just because Tarquin was a gentleman last night doesn’t mean he’s catching feelings, Ley. It means he’s nice! You’ve just forgotten what that’s like. Seriously, your alarm bells are triggered too easily. Not every guy is an asshole, you know.”
No, just the ones I get mixed up with.
“What was his place like?”
“Like a castle in the sky—no joke.” Leia slumped back into the couch. “Imagine a historic warehouse converted into apartments, and his place is the lavish penthouse with five massive floors.”
Sarah’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. “Five?”
“Yep! We took his private elevator to get to the top one.”
Mouth agape, Sarah curved forward in her wheelchair. “He has his own elevator? God, he’s a man after my own heart.”
I knew she’d love that. Leia chuckled. “I wasn’t surprised he has lots of man-toys, but I didn’t expect so many books. They’re everywhere! On shelves, coffee tables, all neatly stacked—even inside a red telephone box.”
“What? Like a real one?” Sarah giggled. “You took a selfie with it, didn’t you?”
“No!”
Sarah reached out. “Let me see your phone.”
“I didn’t!”
“Well, it must be the only one in London you haven’t snapped.”
Leia shrugged. “So, I like them.”
“You love them!”
I do. I’m obsessed. “Tarquin’s also got a baby grand piano and a pop art collection. And he loves to cook.”
“Jeez, Ley, you read him all wrong.”
She picked at the case on her phone. “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it when I spotted Warhol and Lichtenstein originals in his place.”
“Christ on a bike! Jordan’s gonna freak when he hears that! They’re having a huge Warhol auction at his work.”
“Well, it gets better,” said Leia. “He owns an original signed Banksy, too.”
Sarah’s jaw dropped. “You love him!”
“Yeah, and his print is my favorite: the young girl reaching for the heart-shaped red balloon—”
“Drifting out of her grasp!” Sarah finished Leia’s sentence. “Wow, I hate to think what that must’ve cost. Where does he keep it?”
“It’s in his living room overlooking that gorgeous bridge. You know, the old one that looks part castle, part bridge?”
Her sister squeezed the mug in her grasp. “Tower Bridge? That’s his view?! Oh, man. That’s just—wow. A view you could fall in love with, and despite all that, you still don’t want to date him?”
Leia rolled her eyes. “Saz, if you like him so much, maybe you should.”
“He sounds perfect for you, that’s all. I’d hate for you to kiss him goodbye just because—”
“Tyler sounded perfect, too, remember?” She shook her head. “I uprooted my entire life for him—twice. I won’t let myself go down that road again.” Her sister opened her mouth to say something, but Leia cut her off. “Even for great sex with a rich British guy with a castle in the sky.”
Twelve
TARQUIN
One week later
Fighting the heaviness squeezing his chest, Tarquin peered through a floating veil of dust and ash, his polished shoes crunching shattered glass and scorched beer mats with each step. He rubbed his stingy eyes and swung his flashlight once more over the charred remains of what used to be a maze of tables and chairs as a wheezy tickle stole his breath. He sputtered and coughed, the eerie essence of the derelict Spitalfields pub creeping into his lungs. It sucks to be forgotten, eh, old boozer? You must’ve been a showstopper once upon a time. Built in 1860 but shuttered in 2012, the abandoned property had recently survived an arson attack and two failed demolition orders. If the price was right, Tarquin hoped to return the once popular tavern to its former glory and save it from being flattened to make way for another soulless fast food joint or pound shop.
Fuck. I’ll pop a contact lens if I’m not careful. I should’ve worn my glasses. I wasn’t thinking this morning… my head’s all over the place. He closed his eyes briefly but found no relief, the itchy burn conspiring with the churning in his stomach. I can’t stop thinking about Leia. A cough hijacked his lungs. Shit. I promised myself I’d let her reach out to me, let her call the shots—but what if I don’t hear from her? It’s been a week and still no texts. On the far wall, the bright beam of his flashlight crawled across a barely recognizable dartboard, its wires and numbers melted and twisted from unimaginable heat. Is she ghosting me? Or playing hard to get? He fussed with his hard hat digging into his scalp and scrunched his eyes at the water-damaged walls and boarded-up windows blocking the midday sun. Fuck it, there’s only one thing for it. He secured his lit flashlight under the arm of his suit jacket and tugged his phone from his trouser pocket, quickly typing out a text.
Tarquin: Simon, quick FaceTime call? Only if Leia’s not there.
A minute passed. No response, nothing. Tarquin chewed his lip. Maybe Si’s at yoga? He set down his flashlight on a wobbly table with three legs, its surface a ghostly pallor of ash and chunks of fallen plaster. Or out with Leia for lunch? He collected his reusable coffee cup, recently purchased in the hopes of showing Leia he could be eco-friendly, too. Bloody hell, I miss her. That cute laugh, her beautiful blonde hair, her lips… on me. Ahh, what are you up to, Leia?
Downing the dregs of his fourth coffee of the day, his tired eyes pored over the singed wooden bar and the cracked mirror hanging behind the long-forgotten (and long-ago-drained) liquor bottles coated with swirls of caked-on soot. A ratty plastic bag, half-melted and clung to a nearby beer tap, its chunky red font faded but still readable, snapped Tarquin to attention. SPORTS NOW? Dammit, Balfour! Get your head back in the game! You’ll never prove Dad wrong carrying on like this. He sniffed sharply, the stench of burnt rubber irritating his sinuses. Okay, so the question I should be asking is: Can I bring this pub back to life without destroying its history and old-fashioned charm?
A high-pitched squeak jerked the cup away from his lips. The kitchen door mid-swing spit out the fifty-something real estate broker, the blazing headlamp on his hard hat glaring like a third eye. Barrel-chested with thick biceps bulging through his polyester suit and a crooked nose you’d need a roadmap to follow, he looked just as happy to give you a fat lip as a property sale. “So, Mr. Balfour,” he said, plucking a stubby pencil from behind his ear. “Made a decision yet?” He raised the two fuzzy gray caterpillars he called eyebrows and pushed out his lips, his hard stare and glowing headlamp landing on his clipboard, the papers discolored with cigarette ash and smears of Worcestershire sauce. “Give me the magic number and I’ll call off the other bloke. He’s due at half-three. He’s bringing an offer—and blueprints.”
