“It’s a silly trinket, a crap thing, I’m crap, didn’t mean to embarrass you—”
“Gray,” he said, quite sharply, so I took the hint to shut the fuck up. “It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever been given. Please put it on me.”
“Yeah?” I stroked his neck as I fastened it at his nape. Stupid, to be so affected by his happiness, his gratitude for something so bloody small. I was clumsy with the fiddly little clasp, and yet the palm tree moved so, so gently with every gentle breath he made. I bent my head and kissed the line of his throat where it ran down from his ear. “It looked like this was your favourite charm. But at least that tacky gilding won’t leave green flakes on your skin any more. And I got her to file off the worst of the rough edges—”
“Gray? It’s wonderful.” He twisted in my arms and kissed me. Probably just trying to shut me up again. I’d never been brilliant with the sappy stuff.
“What about tonight’s podcast?” I asked, when we broke for air.
“I’ll cancel it,” he said. “No problem.” His smile was brave. But only just.
“Bloody pendant didn’t bring much good luck, did it?” I grumbled. I desperately wanted to comfort him, but didn’t know how.
“Never mind. I just never seem to get ahead of the game. I have to wise up and realise I’ll never get a foot back in the door. I’ll never make my mark in the fashion world.”
What the fuck? “Of course you will! What about all the clothes I’ve been wearing? They’re gorgeous.”
He flushed but still looked depressed. “I’ve spent so much time on the crappy stuff from my sponsor, just to get myself established as an influencer, that I haven’t had enough time to work on my own clothing line. I missed this year’s summer season because the design house closed last year. Then I was so busy looking for somewhere to live, job-hunting, and getting the channel up and running, that I never got anything together for winter, except for these samples. And now we’re back on the summer schedule again. I’m always behind the season.”
I didn’t really understand. “But all these things could suit summer or winter, couldn’t they?”
“Please Gray, don’t try and be kind. These are just things I make to keep myself cheerful. It’s nowhere near a full portfolio. Any decent design label needs months to get mainstream production in place.”
I couldn’t blame too much beer this time—though I reckoned we both deserved some alcoholic moral support right now—but that pendant sparkled like a gem on his pale throat, and maybe that was why I decided to be so fucking bold. Because, hey, what do I know about fashion?
“I don’t see you as a mainstream guy, Alec.”
“What do you mean?” Those pretty eyes flashed a righteous anger I wouldn’t want to provoke too often. “I was as good as the other designers at my job! I just needed time and support to—”
I took hold of his shoulders. “That’s not an insult, you gorgeous idiot.” God knows, he’d recognise it if I insulted him—not that I’d ever want to. I was truly losing my Grinch edge around him. “Seems to me like you have no problem with talent, and the stuff you make is fabulous. But all this crap about the fashion season, and a full portfolio, and how production doesn’t match the time of year the rest of us poor sods are experiencing for real..?. You’re missing the point, Alec.”
“Sorry?”
How to explain what I hardly understood myself? I knew how it all looked to me. I saw the misery on Alec’s face, and how he was struggling. He thought he could never win—well, he never bloody would, would he, when someone else was making the rules, and so far ahead in the bloody space/time continuum.
“For example,” I said. I snatched up one of his samples that he’d thrown to a corner of the sofa. “These shorts. Fucking ridiculous to be wearing them now in December, you’d think, when it’s brass monkey weather out there. But actually, they’re really comfortable. I’d feel good in them any time of year.”
“Y-you would?”
“And the sarong. How sexy is that? Even the bloody turban, like I’m some kind of genie. But it made my head feel good.”
Alec was smiling again, a little awed at the way I was ranting on. “Are you saying I should try submitting these pieces, regardless of the season? I suppose I could rustle up a small supply. But weren’t you listening? It’s too late to present them to the design house. That’s if they’d even listen to me again, I’m a nobody to them. I’d have to wait until another year’s internship became available—”
“Fuck them.”
Alec sucked in a heavy breath: the turquoise palm tree shivered. “Excuse me?”
“Why do you need them?” I said rashly. “A lot of shopping’s done on the internet nowadays, isn’t it? And people are hungry for different, unique, bespoke.”
“Bespoke?” He tilted his head, eyes wondering.
“And you already have a follower base. You’re not a nobody to them.”
“I… do? I mean, Yes, I suppose I do.”
“Twenty thousand, you said. Sell to them! You can create the stuff you want to, when you like, you’re not tied to a six-month-ahead millstone around your neck. I mean, you won’t be in the high streets all at once, but you have to start somewhere—and, the quicker the better, surely? You can do what you love.” And be in control of your own business, I wanted to add. I didn’t for a moment doubt he’d be a success. How could anyone resist that mix of fun and fabric? “After all, it’s the shopping peak of the year right now!”
“But… Christmas.” His nose crinkled. “Oh Gray, I don’t think I could create ghastly reindeer sweaters and fluffy snowmen slippers…”
“No, you berk.” I laughed, I kissed him. Then kissed him again ’cos it was so good. “Keep on with the shorts. I mean, they don’t have to be swim shorts, they could be sleep shorts, sports shorts. And the turban, too. The sarong. Those funky socks. Just make them all—elaborate them!—for this season.”
He still looked confused.
“Look. You could use this.” I grabbed a rumpled baby’s bedspread, covered in pink candy canes and sparkly holly. “Or this.” A child’s dress-up elf costume, complete with felt hat, belt, and shiny buttons. And on the other end of the sofa I could see a couple of fabric tablecloths and matching napkins, with a very garish Christmas bauble design…
In seconds, my arms were full, like I was one of the three Maji bringing gifts.
Alec shook his head. “You’re mad. Candy canes on summer shorts? Sarongs from Christmas costumes? That’s mad.”
I grinned. “Sorry, but more fool, you. It’s ironic, right?”
“Ironic?” He shook his head again, but he was grinning with me now: blushing, too. “Yes, I suppose I can see that. You described my clothes as witty. Fun. Attractive, though not—”
“—too outrageous? Yes, I remember saying that. But it’s Christmas, Alec. Be as outrageous as you damn well like!”