Page 123 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

THE HAPPILY EVER AFTER

Ispent all of last year focusing on studies and working. I’d had most of the business credits already, so changing majors wasn’t that far of a stretch. I had to double up on fashion classes in the summer to graduate on time. With Doctor Amira Hall’s help, I scored an incredible internship opportunity that helped further my networking and gave me vast knowledge of the fashion industry. During all that, with the help of Randall Construction, I built my own boutique. I’m currently still in the process of trying to launch my own fashion line—Randall.

The boutique is small but business has so far been great, and I’m hoping to expand. The building itself is huge. I have my production unit behind the boutique. There, I hire people to help sew my designs. In the boutique, I have roughly ten employees on the payroll and in the back section of production, I have about twenty. It’s a growing operation that I hope to continue. Right now, I don’t have dreams to be a huge designer in the fashion world, but I would like to make my mark.

Most of my employees are applicants sent to me from Alice, Rachel, or the counseling center. I’m working on setting up a scholarship program as well. These are kids that have taken a wrong path, and don’t know how to get out. Some didn’t receive the help they deserved or are too afraid to tell. If nothing else comes from this, I hope I have at least made a mark in their lives. It’s a diverse good because one thing is for certain, drugs do not discriminate.

I’ve heard rumors through the kids that Seven has resurfaced in a few towns over. Nobody knows who he or she is or has seen them. A part of me wonders if it’s Brennon, and another part wants to move on with my life and wish him the best. As long as he stays out of Lumberton.

Keaton surprised me with tickets to a fashion show in New York City. I’m beyond excited. He suggested I wear one of my own designs. The show is tonight but the rest of the weekend we plan to see a Broadway show and sightsee.

Once I’m dressed, we head downstairs. When I see the town car pull up to the hotel, I tease him and say, “I feel like a celebrity taking a fancy car to a New York fashion show.”

“You are as far as I’m concerned.”

One at a time, model after model works the runway. After a while, I lean over to Keaton and whisper that I may host a local fashion show. We could use it as a fundraiser or way to put money in for the scholarship I want to start. He nods but seems distracted.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” He remains focused on the runway.

“You seem distracted.”

“We came all this way to watch the show, so I’m watching it. It’s a brilliant idea, honey.”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “Okay.”

“Don’t do that.” He kisses my cheek. “We can discuss it more after the show over dinner. Or…better yet in the hotel room.” He lowers his voice as he says, “You can give me a not so traditional fashion show.”

“You better not be referring to a strip tease.”

“Don’t say it like that. It makes it sound dirty and we’re dressed too classy. You look stunning.” I reward him with a little smile, and he continues, “I think the next designer is the last one. I’ve heard some big stuff about this one. Let’s see what all the excitement is about.”

“I didn’t realize you were so into fashion.”

He doesn’t respond. One by one the models come out in flowy garments. Clearly, this designer loves materials that are light and pastel colors. I sit up straighter when I realize these are my sketches. The models are some of the students I’ve hired or that Alice has worked with. I almost didn’t recognize them with the dramatic makeup. My heart swells with pride. Not from seeing my own designs on a New York fashion runway, but at seeing models of all shapes and sizes, all ethnicities, all genders including transgenders, all expressing themselves as they walk proudly in front of me. This is incredible. I clap and smile so hard my face hurts as these young adults from Lumbteron, Missouri own that runway.

One model, Christina, comes out holding an 8x10 white sign that reads “Will,” in bold black letters.

I lean toward Keaton, and raise my eyebrows in question to what’s up with the sign. He shrugs innocently. I turn my attention back to the runway, as she tosses the card and retreats. Another model, Mariah, comes out also carrying a card. Hers reads “You.” She tosses hers like the model before her did. Nick is the next model to come out, and he also carries a sign. My heart rate picks up as I read the word “Marry.” I turn to Keaton who smiles at me. Slowly, he reaches under his seat and pulls out a similar card to the models. I gasp as I read “Me.”

I look back to the stage that is now empty. I giggle at Keaton when he dramatically tosses the card. He slides out of his chair and onto the floor to kneel on one knee.

“Denise Randall, I love you so much it drives me crazy. I don’t deserve you, we both know it. You’d be a fool to settle for a guy like me, but Lord knows I love you. I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life loving you. I want to build us a solid foundation that will stand the test of time. I want to find my forever home in us. Would you be willing to spend the rest of your life with me?”

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a blue velvet box and flips open the lid revealing a simple, yet stunning, princess cut diamond on a platinum band. “Will you marry me?”

I fight back tears and nod vigorously. He jumps up and wraps his arms around me. He lifts me in the air while giving me several chaste kisses on the lips. He pulls away and stares into my eyes. “Really?”

“I’d be a fool not to. Why, are you surprised?”

“Well, a little. It almost seems too easy. I was prepared to blackmail you if I needed to.”

I push him back and slap his shoulder. “Are you saying I’m easy?” I smack him again. “Blackmail me into marrying you? Really, Keaton? Really!” I cross my arms. “I’m so done with you. You ruined a perfect moment.”

He laughs and wraps me back in his arms, with my back to his chest. “Now it’s perfect.” He kisses my neck and holds me tight.

“You love it when we argue.”

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