“Maybe I’ll buy Alexi one of those costumes. You know, for a party.”
I laugh. “As long as you find one that’s real velvet and not polyester or he won’t wear it.”
“You know I haven’t heard anything about that velvet number we gave you. How are the alterations going?”
“None yet; I’ve been a bit busy.”
“I see . . . I can’t blame you. I’d be too preoccupied counting all those freckles.” Marty’s eyes find Liam, who’s giving Jasmine a coffee from the full cardboard carrier. In the process, he nearly drops the whole thing and stumbles to catch it. His nervous laugh chimes through the room and causes me to smile. Once he regains his balance, he shoves a hand through his hair and says something to Jasmine I can’t make out.
“It’s not like that. He’s a client—well,Spitfireis a client, and we’re . . . friends?” After spending so much time together it feels wrong to act like he’s a stranger. And unlike my clients, Liam is also getting to know me.
“You don’t sound too sure about that.”
“We work together.”
“If you need to come up with excuses other thanyou’re not into him, there’s something there.”
To which, I say, “No. There isn’t.” Only further digging my grave.
“There isn’t what?” Liam says, heading toward us.
“We don’t think there’s enough fake snow,” I blurt.
“Oh, I guess you could float that by Jasmine. She really wants this to be perfect.” With some effort, Liam wrestles a cup freeand hands it to me. “Mint tea. I think that’s what you had at Moxy?”
Without looking, I can feel Marty’s eyes on me. “Thanks. I also drink coffee, by the way.” I don’t know why I feel the need to tell him this.
“Just not from Moxy. Got it.” Liam nods then pulls out another cup, offering it to Marty. “I guessed, but this is a gingerbread latte and really popular.”
“Thank you. How considerate. Most people wouldn’t go out of their way to do this for strangers,” Marty gushes, eyes darting to me at the end. Not suspicious at all.
“Well.” Liam’s brows pinch. “It’s no problem. And you’re doing us a favor with the chair.”
“Yes, the chair. I should talk to Jasmine about the snow. If my business is going to be tied to this article it needs to be perfection.”
I hate you,I mouth to Marty as he walks away. But he either doesn’t see or ignores me.
“Is he okay?” Liam asks.
“Just Marty being Marty. Thanks for the tea.”
“It’s no problem. This was a big deal for Jasmine and I’m glad I was with you when she called.”
“Just returning the favor for the hat.”
“That wasn’t a favor, it was a gift. If you’re unfamiliar with the concept, it isn’t transactional,” he says, though my brain doesn’t want to accept that.
“Well, then this was my gift to you.”
“I’m not going to let you act like it was some trade. I bought you a hat because I wanted to, and you can’t change that no matter how much you try to.”
“No. What is this?” Jasmine’s voice echoes through the room.
“It’s tartan,” a man dressed in all black, who I assume works in the fashion department based on how Jasmine is talking to him,says as he props a fist on his hip. “It’s Christmas-y. Red. Green. The works.”
“It’s giving school girl,” Jasmine says. “And a sexy school girl sitting on Santa’s lap isnotwhat I’m going for. The complete opposite of the narrative we’re unpacking. No infantilization or Lolita ass shit here.”
And yes the sweater and skirt do lean toward a school uniform look, especially with the preppy headband the model has been styled with.
