She's All That (15 page)
Beep
. “Lilly? There's a contest for up-and-coming designers in
Vogue
magazine. You'll need ten sketches with the designs finished for the show. The deadline to enter is next Friday. I trust you'll look into that today. I will sponsor you if a sponsor is needed.”
Beep
. “Lilly? How on earth do you expect to run a business if you're not there to answer your phone? First rule of business: be available. Get a cell phone. That's an order.”
I roll my eyes. Like $20,000 for goods/services and two people's living expenses is going to purchase the luxury of a cell phone. I don't mean to be ungrateful, but I'm not exactly living at the Ritz just yet. In San Francisco, California, that's pocket change! Granted, pocket change I didn't have, but still. I pick up the check with my name on it, and all those zeroes. What an amazing feeling this is before the actual work starts!
“Lilly, turn that thing off!” Kim emerges from the mountain of blankets. “I thought I was having nightmares! Listening to Sara Lang invading my sleep is like hearing the Freddy music in those horror movies. That woman's like nails on a chalkboard, screeching at me all day when I don't even work for her! She's crazy, and you invited her into our world. This is
your
business. Don't you forget it!”
I pause at her advice. It's so much easier to let people tell me what to do, but Kim is right. If I'm going to take the dive, I have to jump in head first. “Didn't you hear the phone ring?” I ask, wondering why Kim didn't answer.
“I did. I wasn't answering it when I heard who it was. Unlike you, the sadistic one, I'm in no hurry to welcome that woman back into my life. We escaped, and you've put us right back into bondage. Lilly, you didn't even take the time to think about this. Where are you going to sell your designs? Who wants couture from some unknown? You need a business plan.”
I yank her out of bed. “Come on, Kim. We're in business.” I wave the license in front of her.
“
You're
in business, Lilly.” Kim plops back on her mattress and covers herself in blankets.
“Come on. It's noon, Kim. We're wasting daylight.”
“I agreed to go into business with
you
, not with Sara's money and not today. A normal person would at least allow one unemployment check to come. You didn't take it as a clue that we escaped evil, did you? Is it necessary this business start now? Today?” She's muffled under the blankets. “She's the devil, Lilly, and you've sold your soul.”
I yank the blanket off her. “I've done no such thing. She's an investor. She doesn't have any say in the business.”
“Approval of colors before you ordered? Get a cell phone? Right, she has no say. I've done nothing but heard her
say
all morning. What I haven't heard is your plans.”
“Listen, we've got no other choice, Kim. Without Sara, our capital currently includes five cans of kidney beans and a twelve-pack of Diet Pepsi. I don't think we're in a position to be picky. We've got a week to make ten designs and one wedding gown for Morgan that will not be used.” I roll my eyes. “Hopefully, we'll have one more for Robert's bride-to-be if they make it down the aisle. I'm having a hard time feeling the love there.”
Kim jumps out of bed in yesterday's clothes. “Count me out of this business venture. I'm taking at least a week off. If you don't like it, find yourself a new employee.” She runs into the bathroom and slams the door on me.
I get out my sketch pad, hoping Kim's over her tantrum before it's time to transfer them to the computerâwhen we get a computer. There's a pounding on the door. I open it to see Nate standing alongside a million Dell computer boxes. “I got them shipped overnight. Are you ready to set up? The design software is going to take a while longer to get here. Maybe tomorrow or the next day.”
“Nate, what on earth did all that cost you?”
“It's really more packaging than product. Don't be too impressed. Tell me where to set up.”
Like there's a lot of choice.
“That would be on the one table we have in here. I'll clear Kim's dishes.” I rush over to the table and pick up the empty Cup-o-Noodles and food-encrusted forks. Disgusting.
“Where's Kim?” Nate asks, a little more nonchalantly than usual.
“She's holed up in the bathroom now, hiding from me and anything resembling work.”
“She had a hard day yesterday,” Nate says, while pulling the boxes into our studio.
“Your point?” Considering I've recently been dumped, fired, and told by my grandmother I'm destined to be a hunchbacked spinster, I'm not inclined to muster much sympathy for Kim at the moment. Especially when I can only see her presence in terms of the mess made in the loft today. She obviously wasn't in bed the whole morning.
“Not everyone is driven like you,” Nate says, as if
ambition
is a dirty word. I step back, wondering what's changed about him, why he's standing up for Kim and her attitude. Unemployment wouldn't be such a problem if we didn't live in the country's most expensive housing market.
“I'm driven? To what exactly? Are you saying I've given up my ethics to live this life of luxury? Pardon my sarcasm, but what do you think I'm selling my soul for, exactly?” I ask, scanning the room. “Morgan's gym has a hairdryer amounting to more than my current net worth. I went to Stanford, Nate. Shouldn't I have an ounce of ambition?”
“Yes, we know that, Lilly. You seem to be reminding us of that a lot. I went to MIT. Did you know that?”
I straighten at this. “Well, no, but you never mentioned it.”
“Because no one really cares. Does it impress you?”
“Sure it does.”
“I rest my case. Your education may mean something to your grandmother, but really it means nothing to us. This is San Francisco, and like Wall Street, people only care about results. Show us the results. Don't you watch
The Apprentice
?”
I shake my head. “I just want to shave off that comb-over, so I can't bear to watch.”
“Just have some understanding for Kim. She's not like you.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“I'm just saying your dream is obviously different from hers. You can't force her to feel like you do. I'm putting my money up behind you because I know you will make it, Lilly. I believe in you, or I wouldn't have done this.” He looks at all the boxes. “But Kim's different. You have to let this be her idea. She doesn't have anything to prove, and she needs to know she's valuable. She's in a hard place right now.”
I drop the plate I'm scraping into the sink. “I'm not forcing her to do anything. I'm giving her a job. I'm playing her personal maid every day. How valuable does that make me exactly?”
“Kim feels judged.”
“Well, call Dr. Phil. She's wasting her life, giving out our phone number to any number of leeches at the local bar, and when's the last time she did laundry? I'm not here to judge her, but I'm not her mother either.”
“It's her life to waste, Lilly.”
I'm aghast. Is he kidding? “Just the other day you were telling me to get her help. What happened to the tough love, Nate? Did you wimp out on me before we got started?”
“I talked to her, and she just seems like a lost puppy. Like she needs some time to find herself. She's not ready to start this business.”
“News flash: neither am I. But I'm not ready to live on the street or with my Nana either. This is
it
. I design, or I find a clerk position doing accounts payable. With my résumé, those are my options. Yesterday, I would never have agreed to let Morgan wear one of my designs. Today? I want to design her monthly wardrobe because I've got nothing here. A wing and a prayer.” I kiss his cheek. “And, thanks to you, a computer system.”
Kim comes out of the bathroom, and I notice Nate stand up straight. “Kim, are you all right?” Whatever's going on between the two of them doesn't appear romantic, but what it is mystifies me.
“I'm hungry.” Kim rubs her face like a toddler before bedtime.
“Let's go get something to eat.” Nate grabs Kim by the hand. “I'll be back to set this up tomorrow when the software is here.” Without giving me time to respond, they're out the door.
The roar of the freeway bothers me all the time, but especially when I'm alone in this damp loft. It makes me feel like everyone has a place to go, and I'm only left with their fumes. The constant noise reminds me I'm not living on the ocean, designing for Hollywood's elite, but that I will soon be eating on my only workspace, the one table we own, wondering if my life will ever get to the next level.
The phone rings, and I'll admit, I'm leery of answering it and hearing Sara's angry bark at the other end. Her husband may have left her, but there are a few of us without the option of eliminating her completely from our world.
“Hello. Lilly Jacobs Design. How may I help you?”
“Quite impressive,” Poppy says into my ear. “I could totally feel your positive vibe. You are on fire with adrenaline. You are a couture designer! You rock! Youâ”
“Actually, I feel like dirt. Nate and Kim just escaped me like I was Sara herself.”
“What are you doing right now?”
“Mulling over my food options: three-bean salad from a can or cream of mushroom soup,” I open the fridge. “With water instead of milk,” I say despondently.
“You can't eat that stuff. There's MSG, preservatives, hydrogenated oils, and heaven knows what else. Pick up the can. I want you to tell me how many things you can't pronounce.”
I put the can down. “I give, Doctor. I'll fast and pray tonight. Is that better?”
“When's the last time you went to the grocery store?”
“I don't even remember. Sara had us working late recently to make the gowns for San Francisco Fashion Week. She ordered Chinese or pizza most nights.”
“How you stay so skinny is really a mystery to all of us with normal bodies.”
“Want to trade? While we're at it, can I have your hair too?”
“Listen, can you come out? I have a great idea. Can you meet me at Morgan's church? Tonight is the singles' group. Can you get there easily, or should I pick you up?”
“Sure, I can get there easily enough. You just have to bring me home when it's dark. I have to be home early. I have to do at least two sketches tonight.” Just the thought of church makes me feel guilty. It's been almost three weeks since I've been to my own.
“Meet me at the church. Seven.” Poppy clicks the phone.
Ah, the singles' group. Just what I need today: more rejection. This time, with a Christian flair.
O
ne sketch. That's what I've done for the day besides getting my business license. I never realized how hard it would be, working for myself, to actually find the time to work. The sketch, however, is perfection. A gathered, pale pink silk chiffon, very dainty in design and with a tiny black ribbon gathering the three-inch strap of chiffon over the heart. Perfect contrast. It has a free-flowing skirt that evokes something Ginger Rogers might have worn in her day. It's elegant in a minimalist wayâand, as far as coverage goesâa maximalist way. Personally, I find the female form extremely beautiful. I find showing too much of it extremely tacky. But that's me. Michael Korsâ¦yes. Hootersâ¦no.
I look at the sketch one last time before rushing off to meet Poppy and cash my first significant investment check. The phone rings, and before I can pick up, I hear Sara's voice on the answering machine: “I have two words for spring: sunflower-yellow corduroy.”
“Or not,” I say back to the machine. I don't even want to mention the fact that, really, this could be three words, depending on your use of punctuation. I figure corduroy is enough of a hit against her today. Sara may be a genius at color, but texture is my game, and corduroy will not happen on my watch. However, it sounds like an excellent reality show:
Crimes
Against Fabric
.
I slam the door behind me and get ready for the bane of the Christian's existence: the church singles' group. The place where one goes to feel God's unconditional love in diluted, sparsely parceled-out fashion. At least that's been my perception. Sure, it's on the pessimistic side, but one doesn't get to be twenty-nine, standing next to two women who look like Poppy and Morgan, without realizing that my chances of being noticed while surrounded by friends like this would be about, oh, one in not-gonna-happenâ
ever
.
Morgan's church is a beautiful cathedral on San Francisco's Nob Hill. The singles' group that meets there is not actually part of the church, but a bigger church down on the Peninsula. They use this building during the week when everyone is overworked and unable to get all the way down to the Peninsula.
The actual congregation has very little use for the singles' activities, but a bingo hall, yes. A place to hold the latest Junior League event, absolutely. Still, it's nice of them to lend the building to the younger single folks and allow the workaholics to keep up their pace, factoring Bible study into the week's work. As I approach the church, Poppy is waiting for me on the stone steps, glancing at her watch.
I rush up the stairs. “I'm here. The bus was late.”
“It's all right; you're still early. Are you ready for this?” Poppy asks.
“To walk in next to you? I'm used to it actually. Men like redheads.”
Men like women with actual figures too. Not that I
don't own some really great bras.
“You really need the emotional freedom technique. It's from acupuncture. Take the outside of your palms and repeat the negative things about yourself while you tap them together. They're not true, and you have to make yourself believe it. You need to tap the meridian points while repeating the lies.” Poppy starts to hammer away with her hands, thumping the outsides of my hands together, then the top of my head with her fingertips, and then my forehead. “Now repeat after me: all of my friends are more beautiful than me. I am thin and unattractive.”
