Mira shifts toward Marco and me, looking none too amused. “Why are the three of you working this party? Who told you that you should be doing this?”
“Gabriele emailed us,” Marco replies. “He told us the interns help out the waitstaff every year.”
“Gabriele,” Mira repeats, her voice low in a menacing departure from her typically sweet tenor.
I exchange an intimidated yet impressed look with Marco. “Something tells me you two aren’t the best of friends.”
“We’re definitely not,” Mira confirms. “Gabriele has been an unprofessional idiot since the day he got hired. Why Lorenzo keeps him around is beyond me.” She scoops up one of the champagnes from off my tray and chugs half of it. Placing it down, she faces us with steely determination in her eyes. “Okay, grab Holly and let’s go.”
“We’re leaving?” I ask anxiously. “You don’t think we’ll get in trouble? Who’s going to work the party?”
“The people who are actually getting paid will work the party,” Mira tells us, nudging her chin toward a circle of five people who are happily chatting and smoking cigarettes near the railing. They’re also dressed in all black and have matching black aprons tied around their waists. “Don’t worry,” she says, “I’m sure they’re grateful for their extended break. And we’re not leaving. We’re going to the sample closet to get you three changed.”
My excitement level quadruples, and Marco doesn’t even hesitate. “I’ll get Holly.”
Five minutes later Mira switches on the light in the Gia Luca sample closet and it’s in this moment that I know with absolute certainty that love at first sight exists. This closet is what poets write about. It’s what love songs are made about. The universe contrived to bring this closet and me together, and nothing and no one will ever convince me otherwise.
It’s not massive by any means, more the size of a small bedroom, but it’s lined wall to wall with racks of clothes that are so stunning and well made that I’d have to sell a handful of gently used cars to afford them. At a first glance I can see how they vary in style. Some are intended for elevated daily wear and others are shimmering in opulent elegance, destined for the lights of a red carpet. I glance to my right to check on my friends. Holly’s eyes are sparkling, and Marco is completing the sign of the cross. Suffice to say, we’re all having an out-of-body experience.
Holly’s the first to step forward, running her hand along one of the racks, letting her fingers skim over the delicate fabrics. “This is remarkable. I feel like touching these should activate a bear trap on my arm or something, but I don’t even care.”
“Same,” Marco replies, stepping forward as well. “I’d risk it all in the name of this closet. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re not wrong.” I feel like I’m walking through a living vision board. I’m through the fabric looking glass and I’m never coming back.
“Alright,” Mira says, attempting to return us to earth. “Now that you’ve had time to get acclimated, each of you pick something to wear. But remember, everything must be returned before you leave tonight and if you stain anything, I’ll deny ever being part of this. For a very honest person, I’m a terrific liar.”
We all nod like eager kids who are about to be set loose in a candy shop, and Mira steps out of the closet.
“You three have fun.” With a wink, she disappears from view and Holly, Marco and I immediately twist around to lock eyes. Years from now I’ll still wonder if the rooftop guests heard our uncontrollable euphoric squealing.
In our minds, we reenter the party a half hour later in full v-formation with an industrial fan blowing the ideal amount of wind onto our faces as we strut in slow motion. Marco is in the center, naturally, donning a gray silk suit jacket over his black button-down with matching gray knee-length shorts. Holly’s sporting a sleeveless floral sheath dress with a waist cutout that gives nothing but main character energy. Is she going to a garden partyoris she a sexy assassin that’s about to bankrupt a casino? It could go either way. For myself, I went with a fully embellished black silk dress with tapered sleeves and a handkerchief hemline. It’s young Morticia Addams at her bachelorette party and I amfeelingit.
In reality, we walk onto the rooftop much the same as anyone else, and no one pays us much attention, though our ensembles really are as showstopping as I described. The first person who does notice us, however, is Lorenzo, and he promptly makes his way from one group of partygoers to another until he’s standing in front of us.
“I’m so glad to see you all,” he says. “Believe it or not, events like this often feel more strenuous than my actual job.”
To be honest, I’ve rarely seen Lorenzo working at all. But it’s possible that that’s just the way of things once you get to the top. Maybe one day I’ll find out for myself.
Lorenzo takes a small step away then, and looking over our outfits with surprised amusement, asks slyly, “Now, why do some of these clothes seem familiar?”
My level of alertness raises to a ten, and even Marco seems skittish. “We can change,” he quickly says. “We were underdressed when we got here, but we can totally change back.”
“No, no,” Lorenzo says lightly. “You should enjoy the clothes. What fun is being in the fashion industry if you don’t experience the perks from time to time?”
My heartbeat returns to a high-normal rate and Lorenzo waves to a group of people standing off to the left. “I really should keep mingling,” he tells us. “Enjoy the night.” He walks off with a wave and we all let out a relieved breath.
“Well, that could have turned out way worse than it did,” I say with a sigh. “If I didn’t have any gray hairs before, I definitely do now.”
Marco gives my shoulder a pat. “Helen Mirren embraced the gray. So must you.”
He makes a good point and I nod in agreement. A second later Chiara, one of the Gia Luca pattern makers, appears just outside our circle and weaves her arm through Holly’s.
“I’m sorry,” she says with a laugh. “I need to borrow Holly for a few minutes. There’s someone here she has to meet.”
Holly allows herself to be pulled away as Chiara brings her into the fold of a lively group that’s huddled together not far from the bar. A small smile sneaks on my face as I watch her exchange pleasantries with Chiara’s squad as she’s introduced. She looks happy. Relaxed. She looks how someone should look when they’re twenty-one and the world is their oyster.
“Is it bad that I’m kind of jealous?” Marco asks, moving to stand at my side and taking in the same view. “We put years of unrequited effort into getting Holly to like us and Chiara just swoops in and steals her away now that we’re finally winning her over.”
