Grace was impressed with Calypso’s attitude; she had a level of control that Grace was still trying to master.
Frank sat back. ‘You’re on.’
Grace put down her drink. Perhaps she should have had the rum. Some liquid courage would have been good. She felt more nervous pitching in front of Frank than she did to the team at Pajaro.
‘The company I work for, Pajaro, is in trouble. We need a new face and your name was chosen unanimously as we believe you represent the American woman. Not just for your obvious beauty but also because you have your own production company, your films are hits, you have a successful marriage and you have a baby now. You are always honest about how hard that is and you are fun and funny and fabulous. I need to save the company and I truly believe the only way I can do that is by bringing in a new direction for the designs themselves and a new face at Pajaro.’ Grace took a breath. Too much, she wondered.
Calypso sat in thought. ‘What is the new direction? Who is the designer?’
Grace waited for a beat. ‘My sister, Violetta.’
Calypso looked at her closely. ‘Violetta de Santoval? FromSocialites in the City?’
Grace looked down at her hands, her cheeks flushed. ‘Yes.’
‘I thought you said your name was Blackwood,’ said Frank, looking at her confused.
‘It’s my mother’s maiden name,’ said Grace. ‘I use it sometimes.’
Frank looked at TG and Calypso, his eyebrows raised.
Calypso clapped her hands and August mimicked her. ‘I love that show. Your sister is the only one worth watching. How funny was it when she went to the mime class! You remember, TG, all the other socialites were at some lame party and she was at some warehouse, learning the art of mime.’
TG laughed. ‘Yeah, I remember. She seems to take the piss out of the show.’
Frank nodded, expressionless.
Calypso leaned forward. ‘I’m really sorry to hear about your mom.’
Grace felt tears well up. No don’t cry, she thought, not here.
‘I might just use your bathroom, if I could?’ Grace said, trying to hide the tears that had escaped.
‘Of course. Down the hall, third door on the left,’ said Calypso, concerned.
*
After she left the room, Frank turned to them. ‘Birdie de Santoval? She is one of the daughters?’
‘Yes, dummy, didn’t she tell you?’ asked Calypso, shutting the door to the room.
‘No, she made out like she was just some marketing person, not the heiress,’ said Frank, his voice angry. ‘She could have told me.’
TG looked at his friend over his glass. ‘Well, you seem to be keeping a mighty big secret from her also.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Calypso, concerned for Grace.
‘He hasn’t told her,’ said TG.
‘He hasn’t?’ asked Calypso. ‘So what does she think you do?’
‘I’m a bike courier.’
‘A bike courier?’ TG fell about laughing and August crawled over to him. ‘A bike courier? Fucking priceless.’
Calypso glared at him. ‘No swearing, Tim. Remember.’
TG still kept laughing.
