She's All That (30 page)

Kim throws back her head and examines it too. “I cleaned it, at least.”

“I noticed that. Any reason for it?”

“Well,” Kim looks down at her feet, “there is, actually.”

I can tell what's coming by the way she won't look me in the eye. “You're moving out.”

“Lilly, listen. I know when Jen left, you and I never quite hit our stride here in the loft, but I totally think we make great business partners. It's just that you live like a nun, Lilly. I can't handle your judgment, and the way you roll your eyes when I happen to get drunk—”

“I was never judgmental. When I was in those shady bars, and scared to death, I wasn't judging, I was fearing for my life actually. Would you rather I hadn't picked you up? That I let you drink to your heart's content or get killed while driving under the influence?”

“Yes, you should have. Because I'm a grown-up. I don't drive drunk, and I don't bring guys home here. Even if I did, you're not my mother, Lilly. You're my roommate, and just because you choose to live a chaste existence doesn't mean the rest of us have to.”

Her words sting me. Maybe I do act like her mother. I never meant to be judgmental, but
hello
? Was she not planning to go to Angel Island with a guy she didn't even know? Okay, that's just stupid, and while I'm not one to buy into Darwin's theories, “survival of the fittest” seems to fit here.

“I
used
to be your roommate, right?” I correct her. Then she drops the bombshell.

“I thought if you moved in with your Nana, you'd have more money and more time to get the business off the ground. Look at these preliminaries Nate has done for you.” She pushes the paperwork in my face, trying to make me believe that moving in with Nana is the answer to my woes. “You can have this business profitable in six months. You won't be able to pay back Morgan yet, but Sara will be free and clear. You can just give her back what's left of the check. Nate's done all the spreadsheets. You just follow these.”

Oh, so simple. Except that it would ruin what's left of my life!
“I am not moving in with my Nana!” I laugh. “When are you leaving? I'll find a new roommate.”
There has to be someone out
there who likes the scent of Lysol as much as I do.

“You do what you want, but I am moving. Nate and I—”

“Wait a minute.” I drop the paperwork. “What did you just say?”

“I'm moving into Nate's place. He's going to cover me on rent until I get back on my feet, and I think with the business, that won't be long.” She pauses here. “If you still want me, naturally.”

I can't think of a thing to say. I just stand here staring at her. Awestruck. I reach for the door, exit, and slam it behind me. I stomp up the stairs to Nate's loft, ready to strangle him the moment I get my hands on him. I pound on the door.

Nate opens the door. “Kim told you.”

“How could you? If you want to be someone's knight in shining armor—” I stop short of what I want to say.
Why
couldn't you be mine?

“It's not what you're thinking. I'm happy to have her company. She's happy for the safety factor, not to mention the security factor. We said we wanted to get her help, right? I think I can do that for her, and she'll have a job with you, right?”

I get a whiff of Charley's ears. “Nate, can't you do something about that? Do you think I want Kim working with my material when she smells like your sewer-rotten dog?”

The dog whines, and Nate grabs his ears. “Do you mind, Miss PETA? This isn't about you, Lilly. It's about Kim and me.”

“No, it's not about Kim at all. It's about you, Nate Goddard.”

“If this is about us…”

“Don't flatter yourself. This has nothing to do with that. This has to do with Kim. Less than a week ago, she ran off with my money and a guy she met in a bar. She needs help, Nate, not another shack-up partner.”

“I'm not a pastor. Kim and me, we have an understanding when we're lonely.”

His words hit me like a sledgehammer. I never thought they would be more than roommates until he said that. The week's load comes tumbling down on me in full force, and I sway, bracing myself against the door. I haven't got a friend on earth. That's what it feels like, and I know what I have to do. I have to try to get some sleep, then get back to the spa. Morgan and Poppy are like Jesus in that they'll never forsake me. At least not for $20,000 or a flatscreen television.

chapter 26

I
never got back to the spa yesterday. I spent the day whimpering and sewing, trying to keep my tears from staining the fabrics. I slept long and hard after that. I needed time to digest the news. I knew nothing would come of Nate and me. I knew what my Bible had to say about such a relationship, but I never thought it would end here. I never thought I'd be tied to him financially. And I never thought I'd have to watch my former roommate and now employee have some kind of relationship with him that kicks me in the gut every time I witness it.

Sunday morning shines brightly, and I have a long prayer time, since I am forgoing church to return to my Spa Girls. I apologize for ever allowing my feelings to get the best of me.
I knew better
. It's all I can think, and I imagine God gets tired of hearing my mantra before my quiet time is over. I rush to pack a new bag for the spa when the phone rings. I pause, thinking it could be my mother and I might have to cancel my day's plans, but I pick up anyway. “Lilly Jacobs Design.”

“Lilly, it's Sara Lang.”

I'll never learn.

“Sara.”
My boss. Maneater. Daughter's boyfriend stealer and
all-around negative energy impulse.
“I was going to call you about all you asked me to do for the new business. I've done a business plan, and I just can't work the
Vogue
contest into my schedule.” I'm doing my best Erica Kane impression. (Who says soap operas aren't good education?) “I need to get a collection built as soon as possible, and I just thought that was a more efficient use of my time than the contest.”

“Lilly, I don't have time for this.”

Welcome to the club. The
Vogue
contest is a risk, and time I
just don't have.

Thoughts of my Nana's investment in my education come rushing to the forefront.
There are some deals that just cost too
much.
“I'm completely overwhelmed, Sara,” I say, my chin tilted up in the air for added confidence. “You should really just have your accountant hold your funding.” Nate did one thing for me. His projections and estimates of what I
have
to sell were brilliant, making my creations a matter of simple math. Sure, I could have done it had I sat down and not panicked, but I was so not in that place.

“Quit your crazy talk. It's Fashion Week coming up,” Sara says, clearly not hearing anything I'm saying.

“I know. I have the gown I promised you, Sara. I'm just saying I don't need your capital.”
And that would mean I don't
have to take your garbage.

“I'm not calling about the gown. The gown was doing
you
a favor. Now I'm asking for one of my own.”

Sara Lang asking me for a favor?
Is the earth's crust feeling chilly to you? I have to admit, I have the distinct notion to let her beg a little. Is that so bad?

“Lilly, did you hear me?” she says impatiently.

“I heard you, Sara,” I say, with a hint of a smile.
Let me
revel in this, Lord.

“Well, I expect an answer when I speak to you.”

That's it!
“Sara, I don't work for you. I have my own employees. I have business equipment. I have capital.” I start to hang up the phone when her tone changes.

“Wait, Lilly! Look, I'm just a bit stressed, and I need some assistance with the Fashion Week show. I know I fired you, but I was also willing to lend you the money for your business, right?”

At what cost?
“Right,” I agree reluctantly.

“Look, the jeans we designed are a bust. You were right.
Women's Wear Daily
is skewering me, and if I show only those jeans next week at the fashion show, I'm done for. I'll be the laughingstock of society. I only have two gowns in the whole show.” She takes in a sharp breath. “I'm begging you, Lilly. I know you've been working, and I need gowns. And a finale that will drop them to the floor. Please. I'll do anything. Your name can be on everything. Lilly Jacobs for Sara Lang. And that capital funding? Consider it your bonus, your commission. Not a loan. I've got people working here around the clock, but it's not going to be enough. I need
you
.”

Now, I'm not inclined to do Sara any favors. Heaven knows I put up with her insults and attacks on a daily basis for three years. I've sat in the front row of fashion shows where she let models go out dressed only in a skirt and boots for attention, and I've endured the ridicule of her clients in the Union Square store. It's not that I haven't truly tasted humiliation with this woman. But at the same time, this feels so good. She's my ticket out of this dump, and I am smart enough to know it. Getting a spot in Fashion Week any other way would be impossible for a nobody like me.

“How many gowns do you need? I'll do what I have to.”

She lets out an audible sigh. She has to be desperate, because normally you never see any reaction from her. “I need at least six, preferably with a show-stopper at the end.” She's all business, now that I'm agreeable. Her confidence wavers suddenly. “Can you do it? They don't have to be perfectly stitched. You can take care of that if they sell.”

I look in the closet and count four dresses made by the little fashion elves—Kim and Sara Lang Couture's disgruntled employees. “I can do it. What do you think about the showstopper being a wedding gown?”

“I'm not known for my wedding gowns, Lilly.”

“Or your jeans,” I counter.

“Fine,” she says sharply. “Make me a wedding gown. Perhaps that will help us with the next generation—they don't support the arts as heartily as their parents.”

“I need size eight models. Except for the finale. I'll take care of the bride.”

“No, no. I'm not trusting just anyone to my show-stopper.”

As if Morgan Malliard is just anyone.
“It will stop the show. Trust me.”

I think about Morgan and her lithe figure, the stir we'll cause about her possible wedding due to the gown, and who the groom
could
be. Most importantly, Morgan will get to wear her fabric (okay, and probably some of San Francisco Jeweler's finest ice; but that will only highlight the gown), and she will glow. She'll get to walk down the “aisle” knowing she would have gone through with a wedding to help her father and a Russian she barely knew.

“I'll take care of it,” I reiterate.

“It's not easy for me to trust you,” Sara reminds me.

It wouldn't be easy for her to trust Mister Rogers, but that's her problem, isn't it?

“But you
can
trust me, Sara.” I hang up the phone, anxious to get started.

“You're talking to Sara?” Kim comes in and slams the door behind her.

“Exactly when is having my own place going to come to fruition? Because I'm assuming that means that someone else doesn't just walk in the door.”

Kim laughs. “You'd think that, wouldn't you?”

“How's life upstairs? With a view?”

“It will be fine. We're getting used to each other. You know, men don't actually clean their showers.” She makes a face.

“Neither do you.”

“Yeah, but you did. That's my point. I think he expects me to do it.”

“For free rent with a view of the San Francisco Bay? You're lucky if that's all he expects you to do.” I say it jokingly, but my heart aches. Nate can be very charming. And it's not like Kim completely values herself at this point in her life. I look at her questioningly, wondering about all the unspoken conversations that went on around me.

“Yes, Mom.” Kim rolls her eyes.

“Sara just called. I guess you heard.” I change the subject.

“You didn't tell her I was here, did you?” Kim panics.

“You
weren't
here.”

“I mean that you know where I am.”

“Sara needs six dresses from us, plus I'm going to make Morgan's gown for the finale for fashion week. She's allowing me to use my name: Lilly Jacobs for Sara Lang!”

“She must really be desperate.”

“She is. So can you and the elves make at least two more gowns? While I work on the wedding gown?”

“Has Morgan agreed to this?”

What kind of question is that?
She's my best friend—like she has options here. Besides, she's heard me whine for the last three years. Morgan will do it just to shut me up! “Will you make the two dresses, Kim?”

“With the designs left?”

“Yes, only nix the sash on the yellow one. I've been look ing at it again, and I think it's too much.”
Wait, Kim doesn't know
red from yellow.
“It's the one with the covered buttons down the back.”

“Will do.”

“I'm off to the spa. I need to convince Morgan about the fashion show.”

“How are you getting there?”

“Right. First I need to convince Nate to lend me his car.” I slam the door on my “office/loft” and run upstairs to Nate's apartment. I can smell the dog from the hallway. I try to wipe all traces of distaste off my face, wishing I'd brought some Lysol, just for the hallway. But he'd know, and I'm not exactly on his favorite list at the moment.

He swings open the door. “Let me guess. PETA wants me to pose naked in their next calendar.”

“I'm sorry, all right? I'm worried about Kim, and that's fair. It's not like you're a beacon of morality to me at the moment.”