There are more people waiting in the living room, and I recognize them all—Butch and Xera from Phil’s descriptions and Brad Polling from TV interviews and photos in sports media. Phil introduces me to everyone and then pulls me down to sit beside him on the couch.
“Sooooo,” Xera says, “Phil and Calla can’t tell us who they’re designing for, but I looked up a list of your clients. If I start naming names, can you confirm or deny which ones will be wearing Phallacy?”
I plaster a stern look on my face even though I want to smile. “No.”
She sighs. “What’s the point of knowing people in the industry if I can’t get gossip early?”
“Thanks, Xera,” Blaise says dryly, bringing out a tray of drinks. “It’s so nice to know you value us for our personalities.”
Butch chortles. “We don’t have personalities, just some stuff we like. Plus, free designer clothes and tickets to baseball games.”
Phil giggles, and this time, I can’t hold my smile back.
“That reminds me,” Xera says. “Is someone famous going to wear my jeans?” She stands and does a little twirl, finishing with her hip cocked. “As you can see, Griff, they’re clearly fabulous.”
That’s so obviously true that it doesn’t need an answer, and my first instinct is to grunt, but that wouldn’t make the best impression on Phil’s friends, so instead I say, “I knew that when I saw an unfinished pair.”
That gets me a chorused, “Aww,” from Xera, Butch, Harold, and Jordan.
“Tell us about yourself, Griff,” Polly says. He’s wearing a somewhat reserved expression, and I wonder if that’s about me specifically, or if he feels protective of Phil.
“I’m a fashion stylist,” I start, falling back on what they already know while I get my thoughts together. “I’ve worked atStyle Me for more than eight years now, ever since I moved to LA. Before that I was a personal shopper and stylist at a department store in Portland, and before that, I was in the Marines. I have one sister, who’s given me the world’s best nephew, and I live with a very special lady.”
Polly’s brows shoot up, but before he can get all butthurt, Butch cuts in, “The cute dog? Phil’s in love with her already.”
I grin. He really is. She loves him too. If I was insecure, I’d feel better about having that kind of leverage against him dumping me. “Her name is Vivi. Vivienne Westwood Pevensy.”
“That’s the best name for a stylist’s dog,” Blaise proclaims as he comes back in with a platter of cheese and bread. “A fitting tribute.”
“Thanks. A lot of people don’t get it. I had someone ask me once if I’d named her after a relative.”
“Do you think it’s wise, professionally, to date Phil? You’ve already dragged him into the media.”
“Polly,” Jordan rebukes, but Phil cuts in before anyone can say anything else.
“He didn’t drag me anywhere, and if it’s professionally unwise, I’m guilty of making the exact same decision. Be nice, Polly.”
“Is Polly being a dick?” Calla asks, coming out of the kitchen with the dips and crackers. “I told you to behave.” She sets the tray on the coffee table, then smacks him upside the head.
“Iam—ow! Quit it, Calla! Okay, okay… no more questions.” He rubs his earlobe where she pinched it, and she kisses his cheek.
I love the dynamic here—no wonder Phil has the same friend group he had at college.
“I don’t mind the questions,” I volunteer, surprising myself. “I’ve got nothing to hide. But I’m planning to be around for a long time, so you’ll find out everything eventually anyway.”
That gets me another chorus of “Aww,” and Phil leans over for a kiss, his face beautifully pink. When he pulls back, he takes my hand and holds on to it.
“Okay, now that we’re done with the inquisition”—Blaise winks at Phil—“does anyone else have anything to share?”
“I quit my job.”
Dead silence falls as all heads swivel toward Harold, who’s spreading brie on a chunk of bread like he just mentioned checking his mail.
“Ex-fucking-scuse me?” Butch demands. “When?”
Harold shrugs. “Yesterday. The boss wasnothappy, which is why I left early and came up then instead of this morning. He should cool off by Monday, though. I said I’d work out my notice until the end of the year.”
Phil and Calla are engaged in some sort of silent communication that involves making faces and moving their eyes, but the others are still focused on Harold.
