Page 37 of The Devil Wears Orange
With the bartender now gone, I turn to Rashid and allow the Bond persona to take over. “The society pages announced you would be attending tonight’s event. I cashed in a favor for this, even borrowed money so I could play at your table. It sounds so silly now when I say it aloud but all this,” I point to the poker table, “was about impressing you.” My chair slowly turns toward Rashid as if he has an invisible string pulling me to him. “Back in Paris, I missed our meeting. It couldn’t be avoided.” I pause to see if there’s an inkling of remorse from him. “I recalled hearing a rumor of a start-up magazine. There were no details other than some very wealthy players were behind it.”
“And you would like me to introduce you to these wealthy players?”
“We’ve already been introduced, Player.” Without meaning to, it comes across in a sexy tone. OhGod, what is wrong with me?
Rashid’s lips turn into a quick uptick. “The magazine world isn’t very good at keeping secrets.”
“Afraid not.”
“The meeting with Pierre was preliminary but enough to determine we’re not compatible. Pierre wants a silent financial partner. I want to build something of my own.”
“I’m certainly glad to hear that. I’ve come a long way to pitch myself as your new editor-in-chief. I understand your focus is more on lifestyle, less on fashion?”
Rashid nods.
I continue, my confidence building. “Your ideal reader should be as interested in the economy and politics and philanthropy as they are fashion.”
Rashid furrows his brows. “How is it that you’ve come to know these details?”
“I’m connected, Your Highness.” (Good ole Harriet, again!) “Even in mycurrentsituation.” There’s no doubt he’s cognizant of the public fallout surrounding my involvement with the heist, so why pretend otherwise? Besides, this plan won’t work unless a part of him, no matter how small, feels guilty about the pain and upheaval he’s caused. Continuing, I say, “There’s this young woman who does TikTok tutorials on how to curl eyelashes or plump lips using gloss, all the while talking about human rights violations and ghost nets that kill fish and the melting ice caps in the Arctic. It’s not a bait-and-switch because she’s delivering exactly as promised while adding the extra. I know how to add the extra to your magazine.”
“I’m impressed. Ms. Milton, after our brief encounter the night ofCatwalk Style Magazine’s party, Pierre spoke highly of you. I must say, I was quite impressed with the changes you made – your innovative shoots, the direction you brought the magazine. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that I had already considered you for the editor-in-chief position.”
Now I feel as though I’m the one with the invisible string pulling him towards me. “That explains why you gave me the rose,” I say, a little flirtatious.
Rashid tilts his head and stares at me in befuddlement.
“At the fashion show,” I say to jog his memory, and in a quieter, dubious voice, I add, “when you handed me the rose from stage.”
“That wasyou?”
Embarrassed, I wave my hand to the bartender for another drink. “Yes, well, with all the lights blinding you, how could you recognize me?” I clear my throat.
He smiles at my blunder as though amused. “I’m teasing, Ms. Milton. I gave the rose to the most attractive woman there.”
“What you’re doing is sweet, but it’s okay if you don’t remember me.”
“You wore all black and sat in the front row.”
Black is a staple in the fashion world. It doesn’t prove a thing, but still I’d like to believe that he chose me because I was the most beautiful.
“And you were fanning yourself.”
My eyes widen. He’s telling the truth. Oh no, he must have seen my mouth gaped open, too.“So, we were discussing the magazine…” I say to steer the conversation back on track.
“If I may, I’d like to tell you my vision for the magazine, though it seems you understand.Extreme Lifestyleis all of us. Travel destinations, home decor, more art, and less entertainment, the culinary arts. It won’t focus on luxury but rather life and living it to the maximum, for pure fulfillment and enjoyment. There’s a group of men in their sixties I’ve come to know that toss themselves off mountain cliffs in wingsuits for the exhilaration. I’ve indeed eaten at the finest restaurants in the world, but I must confess when in New York, I track a particular food truck where they make the best Salvadoran pupusas.”
“Latin Cowboy?” My eyes widen at this detail that has him come across as grounded. Perhaps I’ve bumped into him looking unrecognizable in jeans and a T-shirt over muscled biceps decorated in tattoos. No, a prince wouldn’t have tattoos, wouldhe? Maybe he should saddle up for an inspection, strip down to his underwear.
“You’ve been?” he asks appreciatively.
I nod my head.
“What I need,” says Rashid, “is the right person at the helm, a visionary who will understand what I hope to accomplish, which is why your name appears on the shortlist.”
Shortlist? Wait. What just happened? Wasn’t I in control a minute ago?
“Though I don’t mind confessing to you–”
