“Now that you mention it, no,” Kylie answered. “All right, let’s go. Whiskey or tea?”
“Tea.”
“Ugh. I guess that’s not your first terrible decision, is it?”
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
They made their way to the kitchen, and Kylie guided Sienna to the loveseat, then put the kettle on. She leaned against the counter waiting for the water to boil while Sienna filled her in on what had happened since they spoke on Friday night. Kylie had been in Prato, the textile center of Italy, looking for a new supplier for her fashion line when Sienna had called with the news. The real story, not the version the world would hear. Kylie wrapped up her meetings early and flew to L.A. instead of back home to Paris as planned.
The two were roommates back in their modeling days and had each other’s backs through it all. Even though their lives went in different directions, they remained each other’s ‘when shit hits the fan’ friend—the one you could call at any hour of the night or day. While Sienna was getting married and starting her life with Zane, Kylie saved up to put herself through design school, then used her connections and confidence to get on at Balenciaga. She worked her tiny ass off for them until she was finally able to open her own label,Sorella Vita, which is Italian for ‘sister life.’ Kylie wasn’t from Italy, she was from Idaho, but she loved their food and the indelible strength and spirit of Italian women. (At least that’s what she said in her first interview withVogue.She hadn’t had a bite of pasta or pizza since she hit puberty.) Over the next two decades, while Sienna was wiping bums and blowing noses, her friend was becoming a legend in the fashion industry.
Kylie made it clear she hated seeing her best friend—who was brimming with potential when they met at fifteen—give it all up to play a supporting role to a man she believed to be beneath her. And now, he had finally provedher right. Not that Kylie would ever say ‘I told you so’ to Sienna, who had seen her through every awful thing back in their modeling days. But Zane had done what Kylie knew he would, and Sienna, needing to find the girl she once was, called the only person who knew her when her life was getting started.
“So, what are you going to do?” Kylie asked. “You kicked him out. Is that permanent or just a show of strength?”
Sienna tucked her knees up in front of her and rested her chin on them. “You tell me. I don’t think I should be allowed to make decisions right now.”
Tilting her head, Kylie said, “Well, you did pick tea so…”
Sienna chuckled, then her face crumpled. “I have utterly fucked up as far as the kids go. This whole stupid idea is… impossible for them. But it’s too late. The wheels are in motion, and I can’t stop it now. The lawyers are drafting up the documents. It’s as good as done. But the damage to the kids is…” She let her voice trail off, feeling tears slide down her cheeks.
“Zane’s the one who did the damage.”
“I definitely didn’t make it better and I can’t think of any way to fix this.”
The kettle whistled. Kylie took it off the stove and filled the teapot. “When I have a work problem—we’re talking massive ones, not some little irritating thing, but like, possible bankruptcy sort of stuff—I always ask myself how I got where I am. That information is invaluable because it shows me the weak spots that will get me into trouble again.”
“I’m nothing but weak spots these days.”
“I’m sure it feels like it, but you’re not. You’re much stronger than you know. Smarter too.”
Shaking her head, Sienna said, “The last thing I am issmart. I never even set foot on a college campus. I barely finished high school.”
“You would’ve if you hadn’t been scouted so young.”
“You were the same age and look what you’ve done.”
“That’s because I wasn’t busy getting married and having babies,” Kylie answered, pouring the tea into two mugs and bringing them over to the love seat. She handed one to Sienna, then sat next to her.
The heat from the mug warmed Sienna’s hands. “You always had more potential. Even Yvette saw it.”
Yvette Hastings was the longest-serving editor-in-chief atStylemagazine. She set the tone for the fashion industry and could make or break a model’s career. Designers too. Kylie’s eyes narrowed. “I actually blame Yvette for all of this.”
“How exactly?”
“Because she’s the one who told you to marry rich.”
“What? No, she didn’t.”
“How do younotremember that? You were devastated,” Kylie said.
“I have no recollection of that whatsoever.”
“Probably because you met Zane that night.”
“Wait. Are you serious?”
Kylie nodded. “Yeah. We’d just wrapped up shooting a Gucci ad?—”
