Fatshionista Page 17

  He stepped back enough to allow me almost to the ground, but leaned into me when I was one step away. We were eye to eye, and I was surrounded by the spicy, clean smell of him. Part of me wanted to burst into tears at all the emotions and thoughts pounding through my head, but the other part of me wanted to grab him and let loose the weeks of sexual frustration that had built up.

  Before I could decide, he pulled me toward him, making me grab onto him for balance. And then his mouth was on mine. This was not the tentative, exploratory kiss of earlier. He attacked my mouth, and I gave as good as I got.

  I sank into the kiss, pressing myself even tighter against him at the sound of the moan that came from the back of his throat. I loved that he was as affected by this as I was. I couldn’t get enough of him. I had my hands in his hair, my breasts pressed tightly against his chest. His hands had reached around and grabbed my ass, pulling me right up against the length of him.

  He picked me up off the step and set my feet on the floor. He grabbed the ladder and leaned into me to deepen the kiss. I could barely put a thought together; all I could do was feel. The feel of his tongue stroking against mine, the feel of the ladder rungs digging into my back, the feel of his hard cock pressed into the softness of my belly.

  He moved his mouth down to my throat, kissing and licking and sucking while he said my name over and over again. I had regained enough of my senses to pull his shirt out from the waistband of his jeans and was running my hands up the smooth, warm skin of his back. I couldn’t catch my breath, and the only word running through my mind was “more.” More kisses, more skin, just more.

  It took me a minute to figure out that he was pulling away from me. My poor brain was about ten seconds behind my body, but I finally heard the sound of ringing and realized he was trying to get to his pocket for his phone.

  I pulled back my arms so we weren’t a tangle of limbs and tried not to growl with impatience as he looked at the caller ID.

  “Hold that thought; it’s my mom. Just a second.”

  Right. Your mom calling while I’m already imagining dropping to my knees and taking you into my mouth. How could that possibly break my concentration?

  He kept me pulled close while he spoke to her, switching to Hindi right after he said hello. “Hey, Mom. No, you’re not interrupting; we just finished with the dress rehearsal.”

  I rolled my eyes and pressed up against his length. I moved just enough to remind him he needed to make this a quick call. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice even while he talked to his mother.

  I tried to behave myself, but he was so tempting and my body had yet to get the message that the making out was put on hold.

  I tried to act nonchalant, like I had no idea what they were saying. But I was truly tested when I heard her voice yelling over the phone, “Why am I reading that you’re gay in New York? Why are you gay in New York? You weren’t gay in Delhi! What happened? Did someone make you gay?”

  Daniel’s eyes shot to me, but I quickly buried my face in his neck. I knew he didn’t think I could understand what she was saying, but there was no way I could keep the look of surprise off my face after hearing his mother’s words.

  He pulled away from me, turning his back. “Mom, you know I am not gay. I told you there might be things I had to do here in New York that were different from India. And I asked you to trust me; do you remember that?”

  He was too far away for me to hear his mother’s response, but he was nodding his head and his posture relaxed a bit.

  I, on the other hand, was now completely alert and practically shaking with…I don’t know what. Anger, frustration, relief… I couldn’t figure out which emotion was more prominent. On the one hand, I was completely pissed off that he had lied to everyone, especially me, about being gay.

  But on the other hand, I was completely aroused and had pretty much come to that same conclusion on my own about two minutes ago. At least I knew I wasn’t going crazy and projecting my feelings onto a man who had no interest in women. But why would he lie? Why would he think people here would only accept him if he was gay?

  Well, I kind of understood that last part. There weren’t a lot of straight designers, but I didn’t think it mattered that much. But I also wasn’t gambling my entire career on people liking me and my designs, so maybe I should cut him a little slack for lying.

  But damn it, I had spent days feeling like a complete perv chasing after a man who had absolutely no interest in women! I was eager for their conversation to end, as I had a few choice words for Mr. Singh.

  Shit. What was I thinking? I couldn’t say anything. Well, I could, but then I’d have to admit that I spoke Hindi, that I knew he was a total liar about where he came from and that he wasn’t gay. Maybe the best thing to do was to do nothing at all. I had all day tomorrow to decide how to handle this before I saw him on the day of the show, and it sounded like he and his mom were wrapping up their conversation.

  I needed to get out of there before he got off the phone. I did not have a good poker face, and it wouldn’t take him long to figure out that something had changed after his mom’s call.

  I quickly grabbed my bag and was halfway to the door before he noticed I was on the move. He was still in the middle of listening to his mother rattle on about something, but he started moving toward me, gesturing for me to wait.

  “I’ll call you later. You talk to your mom.” And with that, I was out the door. He was in pursuit, but I had the advantage of not having to juggle a conversation while running.

  ****

  I had never felt surer of anything in my life. That was what I kept telling myself as I wrote and rewrote the blog post that would propel Daniel’s career to the next level or…there was a slight chance it might destroy any chance he had of making it in the New York fashion world. Teeny, tiny, slight chance. Really, not even a chance, I reassured myself.

  It wasn’t until last night when I had come home from our rehearsal/make-out session that I realized I was sitting on a pretty amazing scoop. I had just finished the final tweaks of his show and tied up some loose ends for Marta. I had started working on the resort show blog post when I realized that this gay persona he had created could potentially blow up in his face, overshadowing the talent he had. People accepted gay designers, but liars? Not so much.

  I knew I had to avoid him at all costs. I couldn’t let my personal feelings influence my decisions as a writer. I worked from home, and I let all his calls go to voicemail and didn’t respond to any of his texts.

  Lizzie called and said he had shown up at the office, but she had told him I was out. She said he seemed frustrated but not mad, so I guess that was a good thing. Thankfully the man only had a vague idea of where I lived or I knew he would be standing on my doorstep. If the situation was reversed and he had run out on me after kissing my brains out, I would be stalking him, too.

  I hadn’t planned on our encounter; well, I mean I had dreamt about it, longed for it, wished for it in the dark of the night when I climaxed alone and yelled his name. But for it to have actually happened…wow. And who knew how far it might have gone if Mama hadn’t called. I had been fully prepared to follow him down to the hard surface of the stage and scratch the itch that had been plaguing me for weeks.

  But in the calm after the storm, life came back to rear its ugly head and remind me that I had a decision to make, a show to produce, and a column to write. And unbeknownst to him, Daniel had given me the perfect topic for what could very well be my most popular blog post.

  How shitty was it that the news that made my day could also be the news that ruined his? I knew he was overestimating what people would think about him being straight and underestimating what they would think about him being a liar. He couldn’t maintain this façade once he became popular, and based on what I had seen of his talent, I had a feeling he was going to hit the US fashion world radar about ten minutes after his show ended.

  The fashion world ran
on the same premise as the real world—the illusion of beauty masking a world of ugliness. There were amazing professionals in my industry—huge talents, people who had redefined what it meant to see and be seen. But at the end of the day, they were people, too. And everyone loved a scandal.

  Daniel obviously thought the Western fashion community would more easily accept him if he was gay. But I knew that sexuality had nothing to do with talent and that when people saw his work they would appreciate what he brought to the table. However, the fashion world didn’t like to be the butt of any joke. And if they made Daniel the new darling of the New York fashion world and later realized he had lied about himself, they would turn on him, and it would be as if he never existed—in fashion, that was.

  I had also been around long enough to know that this business was show business. And in show business, there was no such thing as bad publicity. And there was only one time to grab the spotlight, and that was the first time you hit the stage.

  Even as I was typing the words into my laptop, I knew this decision would come back to haunt me. Revealing his lie prior to his collection premiering would only bring more attention to his work, more people to the show, more buyers in the audience.

  And Daniel had never really said publicly that he was gay; it was his every action that led anyone with a brain to draw that conclusion. So outing him as straight in my blog wasn’t calling him a liar; it was merely setting the record straight. He had been around town enough, and there was enough interest in him already that a full post on my blog dedicated to telling his story would push him over the top. I had an average of fifty thousand readers a day, and my posts were picked up by major fashion magazines and their blogs.

  All this justification didn’t help me feel any less like shit as I edited the post and added some pictures from his Indian collections. My only saving grace was that no one but Avis knew I was the author of the blog. Daniel would never know how anyone found out about his secret, and I would be right there by his side to help him navigate the minor fallout that would happen tomorrow.

  In the long run, this would help his career. On a personal level, I was gleeful that the truth was going to come out. Once he knew he didn’t have to live this lie, we would be free to explore wherever we were going with this relationship.

  I saved the post as a draft and went into the kitchen for more coffee. I leaned over the counter and stirred in the spoonful of sugar. I tried to let go of the sense of dread hanging over my head. Intellectually, I knew this was the right thing to do. Emotionally, I was anxious at the idea of what might happen between us once this lie was out of the way.

  I hoped I was right and not doing this for all the wrong reasons.

  “You’re right. He can’t lie about this forever, and he wants a career here. You’re helping him, not hurting him. And if you get to be with the man you love, then that’s just a win-win.”

  Somehow, saying it out loud made me more confident, and I quickly sat back in front of the laptop, took a deep breath, and published the post.

  I waited until I was settled down in the bed before I picked up my phone and read the ten messages Daniel had sent over the last hour. They were all basically the same: Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you answering my calls? What the hell happened yesterday?

  I sent him back a quick text saying everything was okay, I had just gotten busy and I would see him in the morning at the show. I turned my phone off, something I had never done since I started working for Marta, and tried to quiet my mind and get some rest. I knew Daniel would be a wreck tomorrow anyway, but add to that my little revealing blog post, and I would be completely occupied with keeping him calm. At least the details of the show were ironed out, and I knew my crew would do another great job.

  As I drifted off to sleep, I knew I would have to tell him it was me who wrote the post. I would have to find the right time, preferably sometime after I had seen him naked.

  CHAPTER 16

  The next morning I walked into chaos. And not the normal chaos of backstage before a runway; this was Armageddon-level chaos. Nothing was running on schedule, everyone was just standing around chatting in these little groups, and no one seemed to be very concerned that there was supposed to be a fashion show happening in two hours.

  As I walked through hair and makeup, I saw a woman surrounded by luggage and talking animatedly on her cell phone. When she turned toward me, I realized it was Daniel’s mother; I recognized her from the photograph I saw on the internet. I wanted to say hello to her, but I needed to find out what was happening and why nothing was getting done.

  I walked through a group of grips and shot them a “get your ass in gear” look, causing them all to scatter to various points backstage. I searched around for Lizzie since she usually got there about an hour before I did.

  I found her in one of the backstage dressing rooms perched in front of a laptop Scarlett was holding. What was she doing here? I had successfully avoided her for days and had almost forgotten she even existed.

  “Lizzie, what the hell is going on? Why isn’t everyone getting ready for the show?”

  Lizzie jumped up from her chair, almost causing Scarlett to drop the laptop. “Millie, we have a huge problem on our hands. That blog everyone reads—you know, the fashion bitches one? Well, they just published a huge freaking story about Daniel, and now he’s nowhere to be found. His mother showed up looking for him, straight from the damn airport, and I had nothing to tell her. I was going to call you, but I knew you were already on your way.”

  Before I could even get a word out, Scarlett started in on me. “I don’t understand how you could have lost our client, Millie. Surely you understand the negative impact this could have on our company. We have a show that’s supposed to happen in two hours, and the designer is MIA. I’m beginning to question your professionalism.” She flashed me that shark’s smile of hers while she put her laptop in her designer bag and flounced out of the room.

  Lizzie was still standing in front of me, literally wringing her hands. “And the other thing is the story has caused so much buzz about Daniel that the phones at the office have been ringing off the hook with people calling, asking for tickets to the show today. We’ve already given out every pass we had left, and now the press is asking for interviews with Daniel after the show.”

  I sat down in one of the chairs and tried to take in this deluge of information that had just washed all over me. I knew when I hit the “publish” button last night, this would help get the word out about Daniel, but I didn’t think it would have this big of an impact. And I certainly never thought he would disappear. Had I hurt him with the story? Did I ruin any chance of us having any sort of relationship? Shit.

  I didn’t have time to worry about that right now. I had to get this show moving again, with or without the designer.

  “All right, Lizzie. You get the call sheet and make sure all the models are on their way or here. All tech crew should be going through their checklists; make sure the music cues and light cues are ready to go. If we have to, this show will go on without Daniel. We were hired to put on a professional and engaging show, and that is what we are going to do.”

  I stood up and grabbed her by the arms, giving her a little shake. She still had this dazed look about her, and I needed her to be at 100% so I could concentrate on finding Daniel and trying to fix the mess I had made.

  “Lizzie, did you hear me?” I said as I gave her one more shake.

  “Sorry, sorry. Yep, I’m on it. I’ll let you know if I run into any roadblocks.”

  “Sure, I have my phone, and in about thirty minutes, get your headset on and we can catch up on any last-minute issues that way.”

  “Thanks, boss,” she said as she gave me a quick hug.

  “Don’t thank me until this thing is over and we’re sitting at a bar.”

  She headed out to check on everything, and I tried to think about where Daniel might be hiding. I guessed the best place to start was his mother. She h
ad been on the phone when I came in; maybe there was a slim chance she was talking to him.

  I searched the backstage area, searched the audience in case she had taken a seat out there, stopped long enough to tell one of the stagehands to set up as many extra chairs as he could find, circled back to the makeup area, and still no sign of Mrs. Singh.

  Ryan was over in a corner flirting with some of the models, and I caught his eye and waved him over. He looked pained to leave their sides, but for once he remembered who was in charge around here. “Boss, is there any reason you’re interrupting the first discussion I’m having with the future mother of my children?” he said, grinning at me as he walked over.

  “Oh yes, my apologies to your unborn children. Have you seen Daniel’s mom? She was standing back in makeup about twenty minutes ago when I got here, surrounded by about three giant suitcases. Somehow she’s managed to disappear.”

  “She took off. She got one of the grips to help her take her luggage outside; I assume she had a car waiting for her. Maybe she was on her way to find Daniel. I heard her on the phone; she wasn’t speaking English, but it sounded like she was yelling at someone, so it might have been him.”