Shy Town Girls (11 page)

“
I’m on it!” I said to Alice,
shutting my office door. I quickly sat down at my desk and typed
into the Google search bar: Oliver Prince Gallery of Arts and
Design.

The link for the site popped up, followed by links
for Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn. I clicked on his site. Up came
a sleek, simple yet stunning homepage of black and white
photography, with Oliver’s name in classy cursive font at the top.
What? How did I not know about this? He had never mentioned it. How
oblivious was I to the fact that Oliver had been quietly building
his empire while working here? I knew he did independent shoots,
but there was always the risk of a conflict of interest here at
Fordham. Maybe that’s why he’d been so low-key about it.

I clicked the “About” page, and up came Oliver’s
photo. He was looking down, laughing, and I knew that smile so
well. It was perfectly sincere. It made me smile, knowing the
picture was a candid shot. Though he was at home behind the lens,
he was terribly bashful in front of it. Next to his picture there
was a short bio and a list of services offered: Photography,
Design, Graphic Arts, Digital Marketing, Branding. Following that
was an impressive array of credentials, recommendations, and
endorsements; top designer brands Oliver had worked for; countries
he’d worked in. The site was available in Italian, Portuguese,
French, Spanish, Chinese, and a few other flags I didn’t recognize.
What was he up to?

At the bottom of the page was an address, which I
copied and pasted it into Google Maps. I was creeping hard. Google
Maps led me to a warehouse in Wicker Park, with a link to “Look
Inside.” I clicked, zoomed in. It was a gallery, clean and sleek
with glass tables, Apple computers, hanging bulb lights; it looked
fabulous. I couldn’t believe this. I wanted to run and find Oliver
to hound him with questions. Then again, maybe I’d just wait and
see how long it took him to tell me himself.

I finished my work as quickly as I could, scheduling
models here, booking flights to Chicago O’Hare from Belo Horizonte,
Sao Paolo, Rio, and Bahia in time for the Centennial shoot. Then I
spent several hours working on the “secret” project Wolfe had given
me. I felt pretty proud of myself, having zeroed in on a number of
issues that might conceivably cause him problems, along with some
possible solutions. I was just about ready to make a quick exit,
when my phone buzzed and my stomach dropped. Charlie. He hadn’t
called in days, and I was beginning to get used to it. I silenced
the phone, my nerves tingling through every inch of my body. But I
was just too curious. I gave in.

“
Hello?”

“
Ignoring me still?”

“
I’ve been busy,
Charlie.”

“
I’ve been thinking about you a lot.
And about us. What are you doing Saturday night?”

“
I have plans, actually,” I stated
boldly.

“
I have a table at the Chicago Arts
Convention. Go with me?”

No, no, no, this city is not big enough for the two
of us. Why did he always have to come tearing into my world?

“
Funny you should mention it. I’m
already going with someone.” I left out that it was Meryl. I wanted
him to be jealous. I wanted him to know he wasn’t my life--not
anymore. “In fact, my roommate’s PR firm is putting on the
event.”

“
Then I’ll see you there,” he said
and hung up.

I pranced into Wolfe’s office the next morning, very
pleased with myself. I had stayed up half the night getting my
special report organized for him. I had rewritten it several times,
trying to put it in language that Wolfe would understand. It wasn’t
that he was stupid, but he had a very short attention span.

He looked up at me without smiling when Alma, his
secretary, showed me in.

“
Bobbie,” he said. “I’m right in the
middle of something. I hope whatever you’re bothering me about is
important.”

I waited for Alma to shut the door. “I brought you
the report,” I said.

He looked at me blankly.

“
Regarding the papers you asked me
to look at?” I prompted.

“
Oh, yes, did you bring back that
envelope I gave you?”

“
Yes, it’s in here with my report.”
I handed him the folder. “I read over all the papers, and I made
detailed notes on—”

“
So, this is everything I gave you,
right?” Without even opening the folder, he pulled out the envelope
and handed me back the report, the report I had spent hours
compiling. “I don’t need that,” he said. “I talked to our
attorneys, and they’re going to take care of everything. So, did
you get those flights set up for the models?”

The blood rushed my head and pounded in my face. I
wanted to scream. Was he kidding? Wolfe could pull some real crap.
But I was shocked by this.

“
Bobbie?” he asked impatiently. “Did
you take care of the flights, or not?”

“
Yes,” I replied sharply. “Not to
worry. It’s all handled.”

“
All right. So—anything else? No?
You know what to do then?”

“
Yes,” I said slowly. “Yes, I know
exactly what to do.”

Chapter 12

I smoothed the dress that hung from my closet door,
caressing the red lace embroidery from neckline to knee. I looked
into my mirror as I stood in my bra and underwear. I looked slender
and strong. As I traced a line with my finger along my collarbones,
over my ribs, down to my belly, I took two steps closer to the
mirror to look myself in the eye. I looked good, but I was missing
something, I thought, something that I not only wanted but that I
needed. Charlie? He could still agitate me, sure. But I was getting
over him. He haunted me less and less these days. I smoothed my
hair, noticing its lushness. I touched my lips, noticing their
plump kissability. I brushed my lashes, noticing their long
fluttering beauty. I had to admit—I was beautiful tonight.

“
Eye lash curler?” I heard the
voices from Ella and Ivy’s bathroom.

I stepped into their bathroom, wearing my silk robe.
The two of them stood inches away from the mirror, side by side, as
usual.

“
Hair spray?” Ella asked.

“
Right next to you,” Ivy responded,
curling her lashes.

“
Got it.”

“
My God,” I said to Ivy, “Your
lashes are so long. How do you get them to look like
that?”

“
Well, years of practice, I guess,
and my lashes are naturally long, so that helps,” she added
modestly.

All of a sudden there was a huge thud from the
ceiling, then another, and another. Ella and Ivy looked at each
other. “It’s Barbara,” said Ivy. “That’s her signal!” We all ran up
the stairs in our robes and bare feet.

“
Dollies, Meryl told me you’re all
going to a ball tonight.”

“
We are!”

“
No dates?” she asked.

We shook our heads.

“
Well good, more fun that way. Where
is Meryl?”

“
She’s meeting us there.”

“
Well, dollies, I called you up here
because I figured that since the temperature has dropped to record
lows for October, you’d be needing coats. Follow me!” She led us
into her opulent bedroom, towards the closet of folding mirrors.
When she flung open the doors, we gasped. The entire closet was
lined with rows of fur coats and vintage boxes filled with designer
hats, scarves, and gloves.

“
Take your pick,” she said, with a
flourish. “I truly would not buy a fur today, but I can’t bear to
get rid of the ones I have.”

The closet smelled of rich leather and expensive
perfume. Thrilled, we sifted through the coats and opened boxes.
Barbara reached for a chocolate colored mink, handing it to me with
a wink. It was beyond perfection. I slipped into it, the delicate
silk lining smooth against my sensitive skin. I hugged myself in
utter bliss, feeling as if I were engulfed in creamy dark
chocolate.

Ivy and Ella tried on white, brown, and black furs,
giggling and twirling in the mirrors. Finally, we each stood in our
coats, looking for Barbara’s approval. It was like playing dress-up
as kid, only this was real.

“
Are these the ones you like?” she
asked. “You’ve each got your favorite?”

“
Yes!” the three of us said in
unison.

“
Then keep them,” she said. “They’re
yours.”

“
No, Barbara,” Ella said.

“
We couldn’t,” I added.

“
I’m not getting any younger,
dollies, and I believe it’s quite apparent that I have more coats
than a department store, certainly more than I need. Please, my
gift to my babies.”

“
Well, I have to say, this does look
fabulous on me,” Ivy said, gazing at herself in the mirror. We all
laughed. We felt like movie stars.

I hung my new mink near my dress and went into my
bathroom to finish getting ready.

“Bobbie!” I heard my name being called. Ivy poked her
head around the corner. “Why don’t you come get ready with us in
our bathroom?”

She disappeared as quickly as she had come. I looked
at myself in my little mirror and smiled, knowing I was truly part
of the group.

I gathered up all my hair stuff and my makeup bag and
carried it into their bathroom, gingerly making room on the already
overcrowded countertop.

“
Ooh,” said Ivy. “Can I try this eye
shadow? Mind sharing?”

I shook my head. “I don’t mind.”

“
Here,” she said. “This red lipstick
will go great with your dress.”

“
Do you think I could borrow that
big curling iron?” Ella asked me. “I’ve been meaning to get one
like it. . .”

That was the moment I felt pure female acceptance. I
wanted to savor it like a fine wine. Ella taught me how to make my
eyelashes look like hers, and I fixed her hair into full, cascading
curls. I borrowed Ivy’s bold red lipstick, and Ivy browsed my
perfume collection.

“
My God,” she said. “I’m in awe of
the sheer number of bottles you have. But you always wear Coco
Chanel!”

“
I just love all the different
bottles,” I said happy to share my obsession. “I think they’re so
beautiful. Every girl has her favorite accessory. Perfume’s
mine.”

I was the last one finished. I’d sprayed the last
curl, perfected my mascara, slipped on my heels and jewelry,
spritzed my Coco Chanel, and walked into the dining room for
approval. Ivy waited in her gorgeous navy gown with a bottle of
something in her hand.

“
Shots?” I laughed.

Ella rolled her eyes. “Are you surprised?”

“
What? You expect me to go sober to
this thing? Awkward!” Ivy rolled her eyes, handing me a
glass.

“
What is it?”

“
Goldschlager.”

“
Good God. Someone’s going big
tonight!” Ella said.

There was no denying it--Ivy liked to party.

“
Well, I got it for free!” she said
with a wink. “Along with two other bottles. The perks of working in
PR! They’re a sponsor at the event tonight. And with the sponsor
line-up for this evening, ladies, you can expect gold toilets and
the bathroom attendant to wipe your ass for you!”

“
Ivy!” Ella shouted, attempting to
tame her as usual.

“
Cheers!” I raised my
glass.

“
--to looking hot!” Ella
shouted.

“
And pooping in a golden pot!” Ivy
swigged.

“
Don’t—don’t make me laugh so hard,”
I managed to say between fits of giggles. “I don’t want to have to
start over with the make-up.” But the laughter was uncontrollable.
Watching Ivy dance like a demented leprechaun was more than I could
take. Our merriment was threatening to ruin our glamorous
appearances, but we were having too much fun to care. It suddenly
occurred to me that for the first time since I moved in, I had
allowed myself to completely let go and be myself with my girls.
For a while, I forgot what it was like to be an
outsider.

Chapter 13

I felt the cold air sting my bare legs as we climbed
out of the cab. As we walked in, I spotted Meryl standing at the
top of the stairs. I felt the posh carpet underneath my feet as my
eyes took in the brass railing that wound up the gently curving
staircase. The lobby was wide, tall, and spacious with high windows
and soft lighting. The ultra-modern décor was exquisite and ornate,
richly imbued with white and gold.

After checking our coats in the lobby, the four of us
made our grand entrance. The music bumped like “Planet Lounge
Radio” on my Pandora list. I could feel my hips wanting to move
with the beat.

Three women smelling of gin and tonic stared at the
four of us as we strode into the ballroom. “Is that—what’s her
name?” one of them asked in a stage whisper.

“
Who?” said her friend.

“
You know. What’s her
name?”

When we’d walked out of earshot, I said in a low
voice, “You know it was me they were talking about, right? I’m told
I look just like what’s her name.”

“
No, no, it was me,” Ella said. “I’m
a dead ringer for what’s her name.”

“
You’re both wrong,” said Ivy.
“Everyone knows I’m the spittin’ image of—”

“
What’s her name!” The three of us
shouted. Heads turned. Meryl looked at us with concern.