Page 88 of Fierce

“You were with the Brunette Bombshells. By the way—please tell me they’re not twins.”

“Sorry. They’re twins. Pretty good businesswomen as well.”

“You just hold that thought, buddy,” she said, and I had to smile again.

Once we’d placed our orders, she asked, “So the meeting went all right, then? Are you all done?”

“All done,” I promised. “Rest of the weekend’s yours. And I have some news for you. Some news you’ll like.”

“Really? Me personally?” She sat up a little straighter. “Tell.”

“They’ve got a lingerie company, the sisters. Shades of V.”

“Ooh. Nice. So that was research in Paris. I should have known you were multitasking. And you’re going to take it over, right?”

“Shh. Secret.” Which I shouldn’t be telling her, yet I was doing it anyway. She’d got me too relaxed. “But, yeh. I am, assuming it all goes to plan. But they’ve got some conditions they’d like me to agree to, and, mm, I’m thinking I may. Not really enforceable, but...I think I may agree all the same.” I pulled out my tablet, scrolled through, and handed it to her. “Their latest campaign. What d’you reckon?”

“Oh.” She was smiling, scrolling through the shots. “Oh, yes. I like it.”

“Thought you might. So what do you think the conditions are?”

“That you have to keep using models with different body types,” she said promptly. “Oh, Hemi. What a good idea. And I think women will buy more. I really do. It’s...it’s insulting to think we’re all the same. Women aren’t stupid. We want the models to be beautiful, sure, to have beautiful bodies, but aren’t there all kinds of beautiful bodies? Like...like men. Like you. You’re big, and I love that, in case I haven’t mentioned it.”

“No,” I said gravely. “I don’t think you have. But cheers for that. It’ll be something to cling to.”

She stuck out her tongue at me. Yes, she did, and I laughed. “But, say...Nathan,” she went on. “He’s great-looking, too. The guy I was with that night, my coworker? Different body type, not nearly as...as bulky as you, but would I like to see both of you model underwear? Sure I would.”

My mouth may have opened for a moment, and I snapped it shut and said, “Not the best way to make your point.”

She ignored that completely. “And lots of other guys, who are maybe in between you two. As long as they have nice muscles and good faces, why do they all have to look the same? They don’t. Women can appreciate them all. So why do female models have to all be tall and skinny with big breasts? Especially if that’s supposed to appeal to the customers. To other women. And those really skeletal women, the ones you used in Paris? They aren’t even that beautiful. If you guys think they’re aspirational, you’re wrong. I don’t want to look like that. I don’t think many healthy women do.”

“Good,” I said, doing my best not to think about all the blokes Hope would like to see modeling underwear. She’d gone from 0 to 60 in a few weeks flat, seemed to me, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. “Because I don’t want you to look like that, either. And you’ll notice my restraint. How I’m not telling you how many women I’d enjoy seeing in their lingerie.”

“Well, because I already know how many you have seen,” she said. “Not like that’s news to me.”

She seemed totally unaffected by that idea, and I couldn’t have said why that bothered me so much. I didn’t tolerate clingy women. I preferred them detached, wanted them to know the ropes and understand the rules as well as I did. They didn’t complicate my life, and I didn’t complicate theirs. An arrangement that worked perfectly well for both of us. Here Hope was doing exactly what I wanted, and it was driving me mad.

“Good,” I said, trying to remember what we’d been talking about. “It’s an experiment, but what’s life without risk, eh.”

“And if the experiment works?”

“Then maybe I’ll look into making some other changes as well. If it looks like it could be profitable, if we could position it well.”

“Body positive,” she suggested. “Socially conscious.”

“That’s it. And anyway,” I found myself saying, “I’m Maori. The women I grew up with are tall. Strong. Curvy. ‘Body positive’ works for me. It’s why I’m a designer. Women’s shapes are beautiful. I enjoy...decorating them. So why not show that?”

“Mm.” She had a faraway look in her eyes now. “You know what would be awesome?”

“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“A campaign where you used lots of Polynesian models. Men and women. I don’t mean all,” she hastened to add. “Just lots. You could spin it with that idea. Cultural relevance to you personally. Maori themes, or just Pacific themes. Very cool. Women love it when it gets personal. Plus body positivity. Part of the campaign, and beyond it, too.”

I’d stopped with my sandwich halfway to my mouth, and she said hastily, “It was just an idea. Just a concept. I’m just a publicity assistant, I know. It’s only if you can use it.”

“No,” I said slowly. “No. But what if...”

“What if what?” she prompted when I didn’t go on.

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