The last time he’d been working in London, Stan had attended plenty of industry events, but more on the publishing side than the celebrity side. He’d made friends with marketing managers and copy editors, not models and designers. This world was both familiar and not.
“Olivia,” a slim Asian woman said, leaning in to kiss her cheeks. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too. This is Stan Novikov. Stan, this is Alice Xu.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said, taking her hand. “I actually saw your show at New York Fashion Week.”
She was a bridal designer primarily, though her work was conceptual and edgy enough for it to work its way through into some high fashion publications.
“Of course, Stan. I chased your representatives for a long time. I wanted you to walk for me.”
Stan laughed. He didn’t have representatives, so that was probably why she’d had a problem. “Thank you. I’m a journalist, though, not a model.” He’d repeated that phrase countless times throughout his career.
“Oh, I know. It’s just that I’ve been working with models with your particular look for my next collection. It’s specifically a line of gender-fluid wedding outfits. I’ve already got Cara Delevigne signed up to walk for me.”
“Interesting.” Stan barely noticed when Olivia slipped away, letting them continue their conversation in private. “That definitely sounds like the type of thing I’d cover. Let me know when it’s ready, and I’d love to come take a look.”
“If you’re looking for an angle,” Alice pressed, “you’d be more than welcome to work with us on it. An insider’s take, if you will. I have a gown that you’d look stunning in—it’s a mist-coloured organza.”
“I’m not a model, so you’d be taking an awfully big chance on me. There are other gender-fluid models out there who I’m sure would love to be involved.”
“I’ve had my eye on you for a while,” Alice said, smiling kindly, though he definitely caught a glint in her eye. “I think it could be a great opportunity to have you involved. I won’t lie—the thought of having you cover the collection from the inside is a huge bonus. This kind of thing isn’t an easy sell, and you’re already so well respected for covering these kinds of collections.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he laughed. “I’ll be in touch.”
She winked at him, then melted back into the crowd.
It took Stan almost half an hour to find Olivia again, eventually tracking her down near the bar, where she was ordering another drink.
“You threw me to the wolves,” Stan murmured as he took a seat next to her.
“Alice isn’t a wolf. She’s a force of nature.” Olivia shrugged, the strap of her dress falling down from her shoulder. Stan fixed it for her. “I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”
“She wants me to cover her collection ‘from the inside.’” The barman slid him a glass, and Stan picked it up, trusting that Olivia would have ordered him something he’d like.
“You’d be fantastic.”
“I’m not a model. I don’t know how much credibility I’d lose by doing something like that.”
Olivia was already shaking her head. “Not you. If this is about proving yourself, you did that a long time ago. I think it’s a great opportunity.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“If you need references, let me know. I know a few people who have worked with her in the past year or so. They’ll be able to let you know what she’s like.”
“Do you have a vested interest in this?” Stan laughed.
“Not at all. I just know you, and I know why you haven’t done anything like this before. You’ve made your point, though. No one underestimates you anymore, Stan. I think you’ll add a lot of credibility to what Alice is trying to achieve.”
“Have you seen the collection?”
She shook her head. “I’ve heard a few things, though. You know that if anyone was going to tackle a gender-fluid wedding collection and have it really make waves, it’s Alice Xu.”
Stan closed his eyes and sighed. “It’s going to be amazing, isn’t it?”
Olivia smiled serenely. “Oh, I do hope so.”
Chapter Twenty Four
Ben missed his regular Thursday appointment with Dr Greg because he was too busy trying to sort out the flat. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but by Thursday afternoon, he regretted the decision and called him instead.
Thankfully, Greg hadn’t given away Ben’s slot to someone else.
Talking through the decisions they were making and why actually helped Ben come to terms with them and feel more assured that his choices were the right ones, for once. Finding the flat hadn’t been difficult. Stan’s reaction had been more than Ben could have hoped for. Now he just had to make it real.
Though he could probably have called someone and arranged for them to do things like decorate and buy furniture and turn the place into a home, he wanted to do it himself. Even if it was stressful, even if he didn’t know what he was doing. Fortunately, their estate agent was a fucking dream and helped with stuff Ben was pretty sure wasn’t within her job description.
He put together a list of furniture they needed and worked steadily through buying it all online, arranging for it to all be delivered on the same day so he didn’t have to keep running back and forth to the house to let people in. Stan picked his own desk, and Ben went to a bookshop and dropped a ridiculous amount of money in an attempt to start to fill the book cases in Stan’s office. Being able to do that left him with a warm, fuzzy feeling that he wouldn’t admit to under torture.
God, he loved that man.
It turned out moving house was one problem Ben could throw money at and it actually helped.
“I can’t believe you did all this on your own,” Stan said, standing in the kitchen of their forever home with a cup of tea Ben had made for him.
A lot of things were still in boxes. Furniture was yet to be assembled, and nothing was where it was supposed to be. But they each had a set of keys, and Ben had changed the alarm codes, and it was officially, legally, theirs.
That alone called for a cup of tea in celebration.
“I had the motivation. For once.”
“But you did it so quickly.”
“Do you like it? I know there’s still some decorating to do, and we’ll probably be buying furniture for months, but it’s liveable for now….”
“Ben.” Stan set down his tea and stepped in close, wrapping his arms around Ben’s neck. “It’s amazing. I love it. Thank you.”
Ben kissed him, slow and easy.
“We live together,” Ben murmured.
“Yep. You’re stuck with me now.”
“I reckon I can handle that.”
Ben had been attracted to the living space in this flat more than anything else. The kitchen wasn’t huge, not compared to the house he shared with the band, but there was plenty of space for the two of them and the big dining table. The cupboards were all dark grey with silver handles, and the countertops had a glitter going through the white marble, which Ben surprised himself by liking. All the floors on the ground level were wooden—real wood—with underfloor heating so it never felt cold.