“It’s—” She cut herself off, unable to supply a fitting response.
It suddenly struck her how precious this gift was. Dimple dared not breathe as she separated the tissue paper with trembling hands. She pinched the dress between two fingers—gingerly, delicately—and lifted the red dress to the light. The brand name stitched into the inside collar was the same as the one embossed all over the tissue paper.
Salomé.
“How?” Dimple breathed.
“Salomé sent it,” Priyal explained, grin stretched so wide it looked like it hurt. “They want you to wear it for the premiere. It’s from their new collection—it’s not even out yet.”
Dimple held the dress up to the light. The gown extended down to her feet and when she spun around, the skirt fanned out, bouncing. Priyal was almost giddier than her.
“It’s beautiful” was all Dimple could manage, swallowing around a growing lump in her throat.
Priyal crossed the room and pulled her into a tight hug. Moving the dress to her free hand so as not to wrinkle it, Dimple wrapped an arm around her assistant.
“I’m so proud of you,” Priyal whispered into her ear. “You’ve come so far. I’m so lucky I got to go on this journey with you.” She sighed wistfully. “I wish I was an actress so I could dress up too.”
Dimple, still reeling over the dress, almost missed the undercurrent of Priyal’s words. This was the first time she’d ever spoken about acting in conjunction with herself.
“What are you doing? You have to get ready!” Priyal said when Dimple began folding the dress to put back into the box.
“First, we’re getting you ready.”
Priyal frowned. “What? Did you not hear me?”
But Dimple was already gathering Priyal’s hair so she could brush through it. She forced Priyal to look at herself in the mirror.
“You don’t have to wait until you’re cast in movies to be a star,” Dimple said. Her assistant seemed to be at a loss for words. “Besides, it won’t be long until you’re walking the red carpet, will it?”
“I’m sorry!” Priyal blurted. For what, it wasn’t clear.
She looked close to tears and Dimple let go of her hair. Great. She found a tissue box and snatched a couple free, waving them at Priyal.
“Why are you crying?” Dimple asked when Priyal’s sniffles turned into full-blown sobs.
“I just—I don’t want to leave yet. You barely needed my help when I started working, and now that you do, I have to quit.”
“Priyal,” Dimple said, nearly laughing. “I didn’t expect you to work for me forever. This was always going to happen. Your career comes first.”
“You knew—?”
“Of course I knew. And I’m happy for you. I know better than anyone how it feels when your dreams finally come true.”
Priyal was no Irene or Isaac—she didn’t have a mansion or a backlog of blackmail. She’d worked for her success and deservedit.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.”
“Honestly, I didn’t think it would happen this quickly,” Priyal said. “When I first met her, Julie said I had a lot of potential, but she didn’t have the room to take on any more clients. She also said that my portfolio was sopiss-poorthat she couldn’t recommend me to any of her connections in good faith.”
Dimple winced in sympathy but had to hide her laugh with a cough. That sounded exactly like Julie.
“So, while I’ve been working for you, we’ve also been working on my portfolio.” She gave Dimple a sheepish look. “I signed with an agent and everything. But I promise I never let it get in the way of my job! I didn’t expect to like working for you so much.”
It wasn’t anything Dimple didn’t already know.
“That’s wonderful,” Dimple told her earnestly. “And you’re booking roles now?”
