I hazard a glance at our subject, only to find him already watching me and smiling. I don’t read lips, so it takes me a little bit to decipher the message he mouths to me, but I finally get it.
“Thanks, PYT.”
8
Kenan
So this is an atelier.
I step off the elevator and into the small entrance of JPL Maison. Just past the lobby, I enter a beehive. Women—a dozen shapes, sizes, colors—swarm through an open space stuffed with sewing machines and tables sporting large blades. Some cut fabric with surgical precision. The space, with its sterile white walls and neutral floors, is punctuated with vibrant pops of color from fabric in all kinds of patterns and textures. A forest of those headless, armless mannequin things huddles at the far end of the room. Tall bolts of fabric are propped up against the walls and fill the corners. Shelves suspended overhead are crammed with containers of buttons, zippers, hooks, and all kinds of things I’ve never needed to know the names for.
It’s a beehive, and I’m looking for the queen.
“Kenan!” JP calls down from the floor above. “Up here!”
Found him.
The seamstresses’ stares make me feel like the last male on the planet, but I ignore the curious looks and take the stairs to the next floor where JP waits with a welcoming smile. His lips are coming at me, but I put up a hand.
“I don’t do air kisses, JP.”
“Oui, oui.” He laughs and waves me into a glass-walled conference room. “Come see the watches I have for you.”
Another man, I think the CEO, if I remember correctly, sits at the long slate table. He and the redhead from the party, Billie, have their heads together and are deep in what looks to be an intense conversation.
“Paul,” JP says, his eyes speculative on the couple. I assume they’re a couple. There’s something intimate about their interaction, but when Paul puts his hand forth to shake mine, I notice his wedding band. Billie’s not wearing one. He and Bridget might have a lot in common. A flush rises on Billie’s cheeks, and I remember seeing her with Lotus. They seemed friendly that night.
Lotus.
I promised myself if I didn’t run into her, I wouldn’t go looking, but once JP has shown me the prototypes he’d like me to wear during press conferences and other appearances, I know I’ll at least try to find her before I go.
When we’re done, JP and Paul remain in the conference room for their next meeting and ask Billie to walk me out.
“It’s Billie, right?” I ask, addressing her directly for the first time as we descend the iron stairwell.
“Uh, yeah.” She glances at me, her green eyes friendly, but guarded.
“We met at the yacht party.”