When the man made eye contact, his expression turned very serious. “Two days from now, tomorrow will be yesterday.” Then he tapped his finger to his temple and started laughing again.
A little creeped out, I verified the numbers on the building once more. It matched the address my sister had given to me this afternoon. I had to descend a few steps before I got to the door. I tapped at it at first. Then with no answer, I tried again until by the fourth try I pounded on the door.
I waited, unsure whether to stay, and looked to the man still chuckling behind me.
“Grand adventures await those who are willing to open the door,” he offered and continued his cackling.
Maybe adventures would await me if someone would open the damn door. I wondered if the laughing man knew why no one answered. Had there been a murder? A carbon monoxide accident? A fire? I stood waiting, my mind spinning with horrible explanations. Was Courtney even here?
With one last hammering attempt, I jerked back when the door opened and a very fit Chinese man wearing a trendy suit stepped out and shut the door. “Yes?” He blinked at me.
Freaked out by the whole experience, I couldn’t string my words together. “Um, I-I am meeting my s-sister. C-Courtney?”
His very serious face burst out into a wide grin. “You’re Courtney’s sister?” He held his hands wide as he circled me, taking me in. “I am Jian Xu. Call me Jian. We have so many ideas for you, little Grace!” Stepping up the walkway steps, he called out to the old man in Chinese.
Nodding, the man packed up his chair and entered the noodle house with a wave.
“My neighbor is the best security against snoops. He scares off most people by acting crazy.” He stepped forward and opened the door, and we emerged into a huge industrial room with cement walls and floors and exposed scaffolding. The room hummed with activity set to the beat of a couple dozen industrial sewing machines.
“Give me your keys.”
“W-what?”
“Your car keys. I’ll have someone move your car to someplace safer.”
I handed him my keys, and Jian handed them to a lanky Asian man in a suit near the entrance. He ran off toward my car.
As we entered the floor of the business, Jian began yelling orders in Chinese, which sent workers scurrying in all directions. “This is my shop. I consign to sew dresses from many different designers from Vera Wang to Yves St. Lauren to Gucci—you get the idea. But most importantly, I design and produce my own gowns here.”
I scanned the room. Jian had revealed an amazing operation. The sewers worked on pieces from the same dress to be built and shipped off to high-end retailers across the country.
“Tonight, it is a Donna Karan gown. By tomorrow, we’ll have made a hundred gowns to be shipped off all over the United States.”
As I watched, I saw the fabric pieces move in assembly line fashion from one sewing station to the next, ending with a new dress placed on the metal rack on the side of the room.
He continued walking forward until we came to an office in the corner delineated with floor-to-ceiling black framing and windows. Inside the office, distressed, white, shabby-chic pieces, including a huge desk, bookshelves, and entertainment console, furnished the space. A plush, white sectional couch and a huge, blue ottoman took up the center of the room. The muted TV played the Home and Garden Channel.
Although spacious, fabric sample books, notions, drawings, and patterns cluttered every flat surface of the room, covering the desk, chairs, and ottoman. Sketches of gowns with fabric swatches thumbtacked next to them hung on the walls. Near the door, a rack held several gowns.
My sister lay out on the sectional, flipping through a sketchbook and drinking a glass of champagne. “Gracie, you made it!” She stood, embraced me with a kiss on the cheek, and turned to Jian, gesturing to the sketches she put down. “As always, your planned Spring collection amazes me.”
Jian blushed. “Thank you, Courtney. Your praise is worth much.” He signaled with his hand, and an assistant served me a glass of champagne as well. “It’s not easy to get my designs seen. I jumped at the chance to dress you for the von Briesens’ show.”
“Jian,” my sister purred. “Who else would I have asked? I can’t approach Vera after the disagreement last season in Milan.”
They both laughed over the shared memory. Wide-eyed, I wondered how much of my sister’s life I had missed.
“We should get started,” Jian announced, placing our glasses on the desk behind him. “Let’s get you undressed.” He clapped as he said it, directing me like the leader of a Girl Scout troop.
“Uh…undressed?” I glanced around the fishbowl of a room. “Where is the dressing room?”
Both Jian and Courtney looked at each other and then tittered like little girls.
“This is it, silly,” my sister cooed. “This isn’t JC Penney, you know.”
“Don’t worry, little Grace. Everyone back here is a woman except for me, and you don’t do it for me.” He pulled a measuring tape out of a drawer, hung it around his neck, and held a clipboard and pencil.
“You’ve seen more naked women than most straight men, Jian.” Courtney lounged out on the couch with her legs kicked over the high arms.
Jian giggled. “Ironic, isn’t it?” He stood in front of me and held my hands. “Now, little Grace, don’t be shy. I’ve dressed the Duchess of Cambridge; I can dress you.”
To the best of my recollection, Kate Middleton looked pretty good most of the time. I put my shoulders back and exhaled. I can do this. First, I slipped out of my jacket and shoes. My work pants and shirt hit the floor, then down to my bra and panties, I cowered as he led me to a dais set in the corner of the room, flanked by mirrors. Taking the measuring tape, he circled my bust line and hips. He called out those numbers and then waved away the man who had taken my keys earlier.
By the time he finished my measurements, Jian’s assistant had returned with a black and pink bag. “I prefer La Perla, but I haven’t time tonight. I’ll have to order some for you as a gift.” He unhooked my bra, slid the new uber-push-up bra into its place, and then replaced my cotton briefs with a lacy thong.
“Great. I find a man who wants to dress me up in pretty lingerie, but he’s interested in the other men in the room,” I commented.
“But your girlfriend will like it, won’t she, Grace?” Courtney waggled her eyebrows. “I mean you guys, er, girls dress up like we heterosexuals do, right?”
Jian threw me a very puzzled frown and tilted his head at Courtney. “Who are you talking about?”
“Gracie, silly. She’s a lesbian.”
Jian raised his eyebrows and observed Courtney, who smiled with pride, then at me. I shrugged my shoulders.
He clucked his tongue and dropped his eyes. “Someone’s gaydar is malfunctioning,” he sang under his breath. Pulling out his tape, he took new measurements of my bust with the added inches.
“Maybe you’ll meet someone at Nebulas and Novas,” Courtney persisted. “I mean, Jian is going to have you looking amazing.”
“Yes, I’m sure he will—you will…” I nodded to Jian. “But I have a date. Bob von Briesen. Remember?”
“But you can look. It’s not like you and Bob will…”