A fire lit inside me. Ihadto seal this deal. It was such a good look for him.
“You’re not just cool: You’re inventing what cool is going to mean forthe new generation.”
“Okay, let’s do it,” Tyler said. “The color is beautiful.”
His smile was a jolt of hope.
While he stripped out of the last outfit, I texted the picture of him in the lilac suit to the designer with three exclamation marks. I should have waited. That’s what a professional would have done, but I couldn’t help myself.
It was early morning in New York, but the designer wrote back almost immediately:For real?
Yes, I typed back, giddy.Get ready for the PR storm!
Omg, thank you, Connie!
I could have cried. I had always known this was what I was meant to do with my life. To dress people so they could look their best in the most important moments of their careers and to help talented designers find the spotlight.
Feeling ten pounds lighter, I packed the discarded outfits away. Tyler and I headed back to the living room to discuss styles for his second event, a lunch hosted by a champagne brand. I was awaiting deliveries, but for now I had pictures to show him.
His phone buzzed.
“Seth says the lilac won’t appeal to the older women demographic. And he thinks it’s washing me out.”
Seth was Tyler’s agent, an old-school guy who didn’t know anything about fashion. Who shouldn’t get a say.
I tried to hide my reaction. “What doyouthink?”
Tyler pouted. “I don’t know… I like the look.”
“It suits you so well.”
“Um.”
There were a few more texts between Seth and him.
“I’m sorry, Connie,” Tyler said at last, putting his phone face down. “Seth keeps saying I have a lot riding on Cannes. He likes the caramel outfit.”
My own phone beeped now, saving me from having to look him in the eye.
When’s the event again? I want to make sure we share the pictures as soon as they land. Soooo exciting!
I really should have kept my mouth shut.
“You’re the boss,” I said to Tyler, in a way that I hoped sounded light enough.
I should have warned the designer that there would be no pictures, that the PR storm I’d just promised wouldn’t materialize, because I couldn’t even convince my client to wear the best outfit for him. But obviously, in the grand scheme of horrible things I’d done, and the few more I was about to do, this little bleep barely registered in the end.
Tyler placed his hand on mine, startling me. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
“Tell me you still like me?” he said, with a cute frown. “Or at least, that you don’t hate me?”
“I could never,” I said.
That was the truth. The fact that Tyler Charles had agreed to work with me was beyond luck. It was salvation. I’d do what I needed to do. That’s why, when his face hovered over mine, I didn’t move. I knew what could happen when lines were crossed, when business was mixed with a little too much pleasure. And you’ve seen him. I mean, what a freaking catch. And maybe this time would be different.
Yes, that’s right. For a moment there, I genuinely thought this time could be different.
Cannes Film FestivalDay Thirteen
