Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye - Jacquelyn Middleton Page 0,108
Monday morning?”
“To the airport! Come here—to London! You can stay with me.”
Oh, I would love to run away right now. A frown weighed down the corners of her mouth. “You know I would if I could, but I can’t drop everything and take a holiday.”
“I’m not saying take a holiday. I’m saying stay for a few weeks and work on your dresses”—the clatter of Smarties sliding back and forth inside their box filled Sarah’s pause—“away from all that New York industry bullshit. You’re free, Leia! You can do Frill-Seekers full-time.”
“Yeah. It’s sink or swim time, all right. Frill-Seekers has to be profitable or I’m toast. I can’t fall back on my Institute paycheck anymore, and my—” The shrill wail of a rushing ambulance erupted a street away. Leia pressed her phone tight against her ear and spoke louder. “Sorry. I was gonna say my divorce settlement will only stretch so far.”
“That’s why you should come here. Stay with me, catch your breath, and plan your next move.”
She makes it sound so easy breezy when life is anything but right now. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t know how I can. I’m right in the middle of Fashion Week stuff. Monday I’m signing the contract for my venue, Wednesday night I’m interviewing models, Friday—”
“For an event happening in February—six months away.”
“These things need to be booked months in advance, Saz. If you want good people, you have to grab them early.”
“Well, go grab them and then come to London. It would be so good to see you! And you know London Fashion Week happens here next month, right? You could schmooze, get inspired—hell, you could even stage your own show!”
Is she for real? “You can’t just roll into one of the fashion capitals of the world, shove some models onto a catwalk, and call it a show. Fashion Week doesn’t work that way.” Leia scowled at the gum-stained sidewalk, ignoring the boozy whoops of a herd of red-faced frat boys on a night out. “And even if it did, planning an event from scratch in a foreign location with no contacts, no nothing—I doubt it’s even possible.”
“Okay, sure, it’s a bit of a challenge…”
Leia’s eyes widened. “Bit of a challenge? Can you hear yourself?!”
“Oh, c’mon! You’ve got friends here. You’ve got US! Wriggle outside your comfort zone! Plan something on the fly just this once. It’ll be FUN!”
“Yeah, ’cause stress, hives, and chaos are a laugh riot.”
“Noooo, think of that saying”—Sarah laughed—“if it scares you, it’s worth doing!”
The chronic ache in Leia’s right knee nagged, each high-heeled step agony. She pulled in a breath. “It doesn’t scare me, it’s just…unrealistic.”
“Only because you’re a stubborn control freak. Seriously, Ley, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“Easy—no one shows up.”
“Hey, this is London—have an open bar, people will come.”
Leia let out a terse giggle. “I guess.”
“And something small here could be your dress rehearsal for New York! You’ll learn what works, maybe what doesn’t, and you can take that knowledge back for your debut there in February. Plus, London in the fall is heaven for someone like you! So many tree-filled parks. Just wait till you see the changing colors. Jordan could even take you to the Treetop Walkway at Kew Gardens, get a bird’s-eye view.”
Knee throbbing, Leia slowed to a stop, her mind swirling with London and all its hopeful possibilities: jaw-dropping sights, delicious food, a city of new opportunities and people. Saz might be onto something. She bent down and gently rubbed her leg. “Treetops, eh? Hmm.” Nervous excitement bubbled up in her chest, dulling the pain. “Maybe London is a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea!” Sarah chuckled.
Yeah. Easier said than done, though. “If I did a last-minute show, I’d have to sort out music rights, lighting, hair and makeup, models…the venue—all on my own. Usually, a producer would organize that stuff, but there’s no time to hire one. Even with plenty of notice, they cost a fortune. I’d need a lawyer for contracts, maybe a PR company for the guest list…” Leia straightened up and started walking again, a slight limp accessorizing her gait. “And I’d have to stage it after London Fashion Week.”
“Oh? Can you do that?”
“Yep. More and more designers are doing their own thing. It’s a way to avoid getting lost in all the hoopla surrounding the big labels. I’d just have to let my uniqueness shine through and spark enough interest from buyers, editors, and bloggers to make it worthwhile.”