Page 9 of All the Drama from New York

New York City

Early June, four years later

The second Camille and Hope stepped into the elevator, Camille’s PA turned and offered her boss a high five. “If that presentation didn’t just win us a spot at September’s New York Fashion Week, then nothing ever will.”

Camille waited until the doors had closed before slapping her hand against Hope’s. The slideshow presentation in front of the booking committee for fashion week had gone exceedingly well. They’d loved her conceptual designs. Said she was ready for the big show. They had been amazingly supportive.

But as she reached across and hit the button to take them down to the lobby, she couldn’t help feeling that their enthusiasm was less about her designs and more about her having recently designed the wedding dress for Chloe Fisher, the world’s biggest popstar.

She’d also designed the whole wardrobe for Chloe’s Las Vegas residency last year, but the wedding gown was what the fashion committee had been crazy about.

Not to mention that having Chloe’s name anywhere near a runway show will bring them a ton of publicity.

Her cousin Jordan Royal had married the megastar singer at the family’s Caribbean island two weeks ago, and the single photo of their nuptials which had been released to the public had mentioned Camille as the designer of Chloe’s gown. The fact that she and Hope had never been permitted to present to the committee before that photo’s release still sat uncomfortably in the back of Camille’s mind.

Then again opportunities not firmly grabbed in both hands were opportunities lost. She’d been trying to secure a coveted slot at the September fashion week for the past three years, and even with her ready to wear collections featuring in the Saks Fifth Avenue department store, she still hadn’t been able to land one. After this morning’s presentation Camille sensed her luck was about to change.

Hope’s cell buzzed, and she answered it.

“Hi. Yes, I am at work. It’s the middle of the morning, where else would I be?”

She hung up the call, then stuffed her cell back into her black Tory Burch tote bag. From the tight way Hope’s lips were set, Camille didn’t need to ask who had been on the other end of the line. Hope’s ex, Neil. The guy who had reduced this amazing young woman to days of tears every time he called a halt to their relationship was back on the scene.

This week, they were in the middle of their fourth, or was that fifth, messy breakup.

Must not attempt any advice on relationships. Just smile, and take her somewhere nice for a cocktail after work.

“So do you think they will make an offer this week?” asked Camille. Changing the subject might seem a cold thing to do, but she wanted to head off yet another round of Hope’s tears before they exited the glittering office tower on Sixth Avenue.

“I hope so. That would be an incredible step forward for you,” replied Hope.

A buzz came from Hope’s tote bag, and she glanced furtively at it. She winced, then met Camile’s gaze. “I don’t know what to do. This is just so exhausting. One minute he wants me, the next it’s all over.”

Camille chewed on her bottom lip. She was not going to offer advice. Especially not when it came to the subject of Neil. The loathing between her and her PA’s on-again off-again boyfriend was both firm and mutual.

Oh babe, you could do so much better than him.

She’d been handling this juggling act between playing confidant and being Hope’s boss for some eight months now, and it was beginning to take its toll. The last thing she needed was for Neil to pull another of his heartbreak acts in the middle of New York Fashion week. Knowing him, he would do it simply in order to spite Camille. She was sure he didn’t give a damn about Hope.

The elevator reached the lobby, and they both stepped out. She let Hope lead the way, silently praying that her PA wouldn’t bother with a cab, but instead would want to walk the mile back to the design studio on West 28thStreet. A long walk in the warmth of a sunny June morning would give them both plenty of time to think.

Her prayers went unanswered as Hope marched straight out the front door of the office tower then proceeded to perform her own miracle by snagging the first passing yellow cab. Any other day, it would have taken a good ten minutes to find an empty taxi, but not today. Hope had the door of the cab open before Camille’s, Mary Jane leather pumps, had hit the sidewalk.

During the twenty minute cab ride which followed, Hope’s cell buzzed nonstop. By the time they climbed out of the taxi,Camille was ready to reach into her PA’s tote bag and toss the phone under the wheels of the departing car.

But to her surprise, Hope calmly reached into her bag, pulled out her phone, and turned it off. She grandly dropped it back into the tote, before offering her boss a satisfied grin. “Now, let’s get some planning work done so we are ready for when the New York Fashion week people call, and offer you a runway spot.”

Stunned, but relieved Camille followed her PA into the building.

The inside of Camille’s split level design studio and apartment was nothing short of gorgeous. Every time she stepped out of the elevator and onto the sixth floor, she stopped and took a moment to take it all in. Having the convenience of an elevator was something she never took for granted. Her family’s chateau just outside of Paris was a traditional European building with only stairs between each of the four floors.

Bryce’s investment company had bought the apartment and studio. He’d also paid for the full fit out, all of it to Camille’s exacting specifications. The design studio was located on the upper floor, while on the lower level was a three bedroom expansive apartment.

Camille loved her home. She spent almost all of her time here, working on her designs. But after four years in New York City she was yet to visit any of the city’s famous sights. Her life was work and not much else.

The highly polished concrete floors and pale cream walls of the design studio provided a neutral background palette against which Camille was able to work without having to compromise on her own color scheme or designs. True to form, her cousin hadn’t held back on the spend, everything down to the bathroom taps was top quality.

And Bryce being Bryce, he’d waited until after she’d sold her first collection to Saks Fifth Avenue before increasing therental on this place to market rates. Her cousin had given her a huge break in the beginning but now it was up to Camille to earn enough to cover the eighty five hundred dollars a month commercial lease.

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