Terrific.He avoided me all day and now when I was about to head out, he wanted to chat?
“What’s up?” I pushed open Dean’s door, meaning to come off a little more polite but failing.
He stood, holding up the folder I handed him the other day. “You said you weren’t interested in any of these, is that right?”
“Nope, they’re all yours. I’ll find something else.”
“Something bigger?” Dean walked around his desk and approached me with a smirk and a slightly raised brow.
“Exactly.”
“How about Empire Fashions year-end wrap up?”
“Empire Fashions?” My interest was most certainly piqued. “A handful of my old colleagues worked with them during fashion week, but they’ve never held a year-end wrap up that I knew of.”
“Empire’s CEO is hosting a gala-style fashion show at the end of the year. They plan to showcase their biggest designers, this year’s most talked about designs and are promising sneak-peeks for next year’s styles. Starr was only able to get a few details but it’s looking like the guest list is expected to be close to three hundred. The who’s who in the industry are expected; designers, models, buyers, producers, celebrities, and of course the media.”
My mouth dropped. “This would have been huge even for Brightman,” I breathed, then narrowed my eyes at him. “How’d you get this?”
“Starr had a meeting this morning with...an old friend with connections. The details are still being ironed out and I believe we’re even being given a promo spot on the floor. But I wanted to give you a head start to begin planning Elle,” he said. “I think there’s no question who I’m giving this—”
“I’ll take it,” I interjected. Finally there was something worth my time; something worth getting excited about.
“Not alone. You’ll need help.”
I let out a huff. “Dean, you know I work alone. I don’t have time to babysit an assistant.”
“This one is too big for one person and we can’t affordanymistakes. None. Zero. Mimi will assist you.”
Well, if anyone…“Alright.” I lifted my head and walked to the door, turning back for a moment. “Let’s catch up when you have details.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I insisted as we crossed the intersection on the way to Blue Reserves.
“So he hasn’t called?” Char asked.
“He called. Once.”
“Huh.”
“He’s not the blow up your phone kinda guy,” I shrugged.
“No, I guess he wouldn’t be,” Char agreed.
“Could we not talk about him anymore? You were the one who told me I should be honest. I couldn’t do it. And it no longer matters. I’m moving on. What are you doing on this side of town anyway?”
Char narrowed her eyes. “I said you should be careful. There’s a difference.” Char paused, then shrugged. “Anyway it’s Friday. Thought we’d get some dinner or happy hour or something.”
“It’s a good idea. I’m happy to see you. But I’m pretty sure at some point you compared my situation to a roasted fish,” I whispered with a grin as we entered the Blue Reserve café.
Char laughed as we took our place in line. “Okay, you did not get my crusted salmon analogy. And it had nothing to do with your billionaire.”
The woman behind the counter handed the customer in front of me back his card and then turned to me. Her features immediately brightened as if she’d recognized me from last week.“Oh, hello. Thank you for coming by again. Will you be having the Censored today?”
I blinked. “Um...yes, thank you.”
“Of course, and for you?” she asked Char, who rattled off a pretty specific order given she’d only had thirty seconds to look at the menu.
Char leaned in to close. “So, you come here often?”
