“Did you see Anna?” he asks softly
“No.”
He smiles into his beer before lifting it to his lips. “I always had a thing for her.”
“You’ve told me a million times. I have no idea why you didn’t pursue that.”
“I was too young when I met her and then her brother beat you to a pulp. Then when I finally looked her up, she’s always had boyfriends.” He sips his beer again. “And now….” His gaze drifts over to Giovanna. “Timing was never right, I guess.”
My thoughts go to Francesca and how nothing was ever right for us.
“You shouldn’t feel bad,” Val whispers. “I’m sure her fiancé is kissing her better as we speak.”
I clench my jaw as I imagine Francesca with that stupid fucking fiancé of hers.
“I mean…” he continues. “She’ll be married soon so….”
“Shut the fuck up.” I cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“She still fucks with your head, doesn’t she?” He shrugs. “What’s it been, like ten years or something?”
“She doesn’t fuck with my head. I just feel bad. That’s all.”
“Don’t.”
My eyes meet his.
“Snap the fuck out of it, man.” He clinks his beer with mine. “To Amber,” he toasts to remind me of what I’ve got. He and Alex like Amber, they think she’s good for me, they want this to work. My eyes roam over to the beautiful woman sitting beside me.
I want this to work too.
Amber rubs her hand up my thigh and gives me the look.
I force a smile and sip my beer, I’m just not sure how to make that happen.
Francesca
Anna opens the door. “Hello,” she says to the delivery driver and gestures into the apartment. “Just put them down here.”
The delivery driver unloads the boxes and Anna signs for them, I hide in the kitchen, I have my pajamas on with no bra. “Thank you,” Anna says before I hear the door close. I come around the corner to see Anna standing with her hands on her hips assessing all of the packages. “Good grief, the things they would stoop to.”
“Hmm.” I flop onto the couch, unimpressed. “Take what you want.”
Anna smirks. “Always do.” She begins to load the parcels onto the dining table. “You know the whole thing kind of sucks.”
“What does?”
“All of the top fashion design houses send you their new releases and a million and one pairs of shoes and handbags in hope that you will wear them just once and be photographed. And the irony is, you are the only person in fucking Italy who can actually afford to buy this crap. They don’t need to give it to you for free. Are they dumb?”
I giggle. “Lucky I have you to take it off my hands, then, isn’t it?”
“Exactly,” she mutters dryly. “That’s what I was thinking.” She opens a Valentino box and pulls out a black studded leather handbag. “Oh…come to Momma.” She swoons. She puts it over her shoulder and looks at herself in the mirror. “Why is everything coming all at once?”
“It’s Fashion Week next week.”
“Ahh,” Anna sighs as she remembers. “Who are you wearing?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh. “Not in the mood this year, I can’t even be bothered to go really.” I look over the boxes, there must be at least twenty here. “It depends on what they sent me.”
Anna flops on the couch beside me. “I wish I had your good taste, you throw things together and look a million dollars. I throw the same things on and look like a science experiment.”
I smile. “I seriously doubt that.” I look over at her. “Are you coming with me?”
“To Fashion Week?”
Uh-huh.”
“Of course. Have I ever missed it yet?”
“Who are you wearing?”
“Whoever you don’t.”
I walk out into the living room and flick my coat open and put my hands on my hips in an overdramatic way as I pretend to be on the catwalk.
Anna’s eyes widen as she looks me up and down. “Wowsers.”
I smile as I look down at myself, I’m wearing pale blue thigh-high boots, a tight leather minidress in exactly the same color and a matching trench coat. “Pretty nice, huh?”
Anna circles me. “Incredible, Chanel?”
“Head to toe.”
“My God.”
I pick up the matching bag with the customary gold chain strap. “You like?”
“I fucking love,” Anna gasps.
It’s Paris Fashion Week and today we are hitting circuit.
My long dark hair is out and my makeup is understated, the gorgeous blue is the star of this outfit, I don’t want to overpower it with anything. “Which sunglasses should I wear? These ones.” I put a pair of gold Ray Bans on. “Or these ones.” I put on a pair of chunky tortoiseshell glasses.
“Hmm.” Anna twists her lips. “The gold.”
“Yeah, I thought so too.” I look her up and down, she’s wearing a hot pink dress and matching stilettos. “Wow, you look amazing.”
“I can’t beat Chanel, they just get me.” She puts her hands on her hips and gives a little sashay.
I giggle. “He really does.”
The car pulls up and our driver gets out and opens the door for us, Anna gets out first and then me, cameras flash. “Miss Ferrara, you look amazing, who are you wearing?” someone calls.
“Chanel,” I reply with a smile, I link arms with Anna and we pose for the photographs, first with the two of us together and then alone. This is the one and only place I will have my photo taken willingly. I know what a privilege it is to be here and to able to support the insanely talented designers is an honor.
After all the things they constantly send me, I owe them this exposure.
Anna and I walk hand in hand through the concourse and into the Chanel Hall.
“Hello.” The usher smiles, he’s in a fitted black dinner suit and I’m sure he’s an off-duty model.
Anna’s eyes widen and she smiles at him.
“Hello.” I hand over our invitations. “This way please.” He walks off in the direction of our seats.
“Delicious,” Anna whispers.
He leads us to our seats in the front row and we both sit down.
“This never gets old,” Anna whispers. “Did you see David Beckham by the door?”
“No.” I glance over to the door. “Where, I can’t see him?”
“He’s the one wearing the fuck-me T-shirt.”
“Isn’t he like old now?”
“No way, he’s like a fine wine, gets more fuckable every year.”
I giggle. “Good to know.”
The music pipes through the space and the lights dim, a hushed excitement falls over the audience. I love Fashion Week, the buzz from the press, the hushed excitement of the new collections, even the gossipy paparazzi have their place here.
A funky beat comes through the speakers and I smile, I love this song, “Give It To Me Baby” by Jarina De Marco. The room collectively holds their breath as the first model floats down the catwalk. Brunette and elflike in her appearance, the perfect show opener.