The Best Friend Scandal (Bad News Billionaires Book 2) Page 6

  “I think that you should fill in for one of the missing models who dropped out,” he said. I would have thought that he was kidding, but the look on his face was totally serious.

  “What? I can’t do that,” I laughed. “I’m not a model.”

  “True,” he said. “But you could be a fill-in model, just for this show. I mean, you’re beautiful, the fashions are all your designs anyway, you already know all of us, and we could show you how to walk the runway.”

  I squished my face up as if I had just sucked on a sour lemon. There was no way that I could pass as a model, although he was the second guy to call me beautiful now, and that made me feel really good. Besides, there’s no way that Arlo would allow it.

  “I don’t think Arlo would let me model for the runway show,” I said.

  “Screw Arlo,” he said as he raised his glass in the air as if he were giving a toast. “You’d be doing him a favor. He’s running around like a chicken with its cock cut off—”

  “I think you mean head,” I interrupted as I snorted in laughter.

  “The same thing,” he continued. “You’d be saving his ass, and he should be thankful for it. There’s no way he can find a replacement model by next week.”

  At first, I had scoffed at the idea. But then I started to consider it. It would be helping Arlo out with the show, and it did sound like a lot of fun. It would be difficult to both attend to the models during the show and be one. But how cool would it be to be able to say that I actually modeled in a runway show of my own designs?

  “Ah, see?” Cai said with a wide smile that showed all of his perfect teeth. “You like the idea; I can tell.”

  8

  Chapter Eight (Arlo)

  I didn’t sleep at all last night, like not even for a few minutes. I was up all night feeling bad about the way that I had treated Hensley. Then I was also trying to figure out why in the hell I acted like that, to begin with. I’d dealt with many stressful situations in this business before, and I had never lost my cool on anyone, not like that. What was it that made me act like a child having a tantrum and projecting all of my frustration onto someone else? And why her?

  I knew exactly why her. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. I had known now for days. I had known since I saw her in that dress and touched the small of her back. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it, though. Hensley and I had been friends for just over four years. Why was this happening now? I needed to be able to think straight and focus on how I was going to save this rushed runway show from eminent ruin. I couldn’t have a clouded head or lack of judgment right now, or it was going to tank my whole new line that was about to release, which would mean a disastrous image for Luscious. I’d worked way too hard to get to where I am with my brand, and I wasn’t about to let it all go to hell now. Hensley’s career was riding on this, too.

  This successful show and release would mean an instant future for her in the industry, and I couldn’t let her down by screwing up that opportunity for her. She’d worked too hard. But I knew that there was no way that I could think clearly until I apologized to her. I just didn’t know what to say. The only reason that I had to give her was the truth, and the truth was that I flew into a jealous rage over Cai being there with her twice while I wasn’t. If I told her that, then she would know. She would know that somehow along the way, I had developed feelings for her, feelings that were getting harder and harder for me to ignore. I had to tell her something when I apologized, but I couldn’t bring myself for it to be that…not yet, at least not until after the runway show. I would come up with something else to tell her in the meantime, along with a huge apology for acting like such a jackass.

  When Hensley showed up at my office in the afternoon with dark sunglasses on and a bandaged up hand, I wasn’t sure whether I should apologize to her first or ask her what happened. I wanted to ask her what happened to her, but I knew she probably wouldn’t even talk to me until I had apologized, so I had to bite back my urge to come to her rescue again and beg for forgiveness instead.

  “Here are the finished samples,” she said as she wheeled in a rack stuffed with clothes. “Once you okay them, they’ll be ready to roll-out for retail after the show. I still have the dress. It had uh, an accident, and I need to make a repair on it. I’ll have it back to you by tomorrow at the latest.”

  She turned around to leave.

  “Hensley, wait,” I said. Even I could hear the desperation in my voice.

  She paused and turned around to face me.

  “What happened to your hand?” I asked. Dammit. I was supposed to apologize first.

  “I cut myself with the thread-puller,” she said very matter-of-factly before she got ready to leave again.

  “Wait,” I said. I walked out from around my desk to stand in front of her.

  Why was she wearing sunglasses inside my office? I guessed that now would not be a good time to question her fashion choices, so I kept my mouth shut about the sunglasses.

  “I’m really sorry,” I said. “I never should have shouted at you or said any of the stuff that I said to you last night. I was just really stressed and frustrated, and I know that’s not an excuse. Please forgive me; it won’t happen again.”

  She pulled her sunglasses off and smiled at me. She looked really tired and had dark-purple circles under her eyes. I hoped it wasn’t because I had been working her too hard.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I accept your apology.”

  I leaned forward and gave her a hug out of reflex. For some reason, the simple friend gestures that I was so accustomed to giving her were starting to feel differently now. She wrapped her arms around my back, and I buried my face in her hair against her shoulder for a minute. When we let go, she didn’t seem like she was in as big of a hurry to leave as she had been a few minutes ago.

  “I heard about the models dropping out, and I want to propose an idea that I think might help,” she said.

  “Okay, come sit down,” I said as I gesture to the chair. “What’s your idea?”

  “Well, I went out with Cai last night, and it was actually his idea, but I think it’s a good one.”

  “You went out with Cai?” I asked. I could tell that the tone in my voice sounded shocked and accusatory. I tried really hard to squelch the jealousy that was brewing up inside of me. What was it with that guy? Why did he keep trying to get with Hensley?

  “Yeah,” she said with an uneasy look. “Is there something wrong with that?”

  “No,” I said through clenched teeth.

  In my head, I was thinking, “Yes, everything is wrong with that,” but I couldn’t tell her that because, as far as she knew, we had nothing but platonic feelings for each other. I couldn’t come across looking like some sort of psychotic, overly protective friend.

  “Of course there isn’t,” I said, even though I wanted to choke on the words. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t realize that you and Cai were close.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say we’re close,” she chuckled. “We just both needed a break for a night. I made up for the few hours of time this morning.”

  “I’m not worried about that,” I said. “I shouldn’t have been pushing you so hard. I’m glad you took some time to have some fun and enjoy yourself.”

  Although I wish it had been with me and not that self-entitled male model. I didn’t at all like the thought of her hanging around with the other models and their party scene. They had been known to get way out of control with things.

  “Thanks,” she said. “So, Cai’s idea was that I fill in for the missing model who dropped out.”

  Hensley looked at me and waited for my reaction. I thought she was kidding, but Jesus, she was serious.

  “Hensley, I just don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one, you’re a designer, not a model.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she said as her voice started to raise a little
. “That I’m not pretty enough to wear my own designs down a runway?”

  “No, that’s not at all what I mean,” I said. I had a dreadful feeling that this was all about to go south very quickly.

  “Then why can’t I? It would be a huge help to you unless you already have another model?”

  “No,” I answered honestly. “I don’t.”

  “Then we still need one,” she said. “We can’t show all the pieces without another model. And you’re saying that you’d rather give up on two of the designs that I worked hard on and that inspired your whole line, just because you don’t think I look good enough to be a model.

  “That is not what I said, Hensley! I never said that you weren’t pretty enough to model.” I wanted to tell her that I thought she was fucking gorgeous, but this wasn’t the way or the time that I wanted to do it.

  “Is it blue highlights? Because I think that would actually go really well with a fantasy-themed show. Is it the nose ring? Because that would be pretty damn judgmental of you,” she said.

  “No, of course not; it’s none of those things.”

  “Then what is it?” she shouted.

  I could tell that I’d pushed her too far last night, and now she was just purely angry. “I just think that you need to be the designer,” I said as I tried to sound calm and logical. I needed to remember to kick Cai’s ass for putting this idea into her head. “You are the only designer for the entire show. The models will need you, and this show is too important for Luscious to fail. I need you to fulfill that role.”

  “I can be both,” she said stubbornly.

  “I don’t think you can,” I said.

  That was actually a lie because I actually did think that she could probably pull it off. I just didn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire for her to get cozy with the group of models. She needed to stay as a designer, nothing more. When this was all over, I would talk to her and tell her the truth and the real reasons behind some of the stuff I was doing that she didn’t understand and that I was just barely understanding myself.

  “Fine,” she said as she put her sunglasses back down over her face and stood up.

  “Wait, where are you going? Why are you mad about this? It’s not like you’ve ever even wanted to model before. I didn’t even think you liked being in front of crowds.”

  “I don’t,” said with mixed anger and hurt in her voice. “But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t still sting a little to have your friend think you’re good enough to design pretty things behind the curtain but not pretty enough to wear them in front of the crowd.”

  “Hensley, please, that is not at all what I meant!” I followed her to the door as she stormed out, trying to get her to stop and listen to me, but she wouldn’t.

  She was still too upset about the way I had acted last night, and I didn’t blame her. If only she knew that I thought she was more beautiful than any of the show's models. I had to fight with myself not to run after her and shout it out to her, but that would have only made me look like a fool. I stood in the hallway while my secretary came over and stared at me.

  “Umm, Mr. Pratt?” she said carefully since she could see I wasn’t having a good day again.

  “Yeah,” I said as I kept my eyes affixed on the door that Hensley had just walked out of as if staring at it would somehow make her materialize there again. “You just had another model cancel.”

  She backed away as if she thought I was going to self-combust. I sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled it fully as I rubbed my temple and shook my head.

  “Okay, here’s what I need you to do.”

  She pulled out her notepad and pencil to jot down what I was about to say.

  “Call Kerynne and tell her that I will pay all of them double salary if they can find me, two female replacement models. Then send a dozen pink roses over to Hensley’s workshop at F.I.T.”

  “Are you sure you want pink ones? Red ones are so much more romantic,” she suggested.

  “Hensley is a friend that I am trying to bridge a disagreement with so she doesn’t walk out on this runway show like all the models seem to be doing.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  I could tell by her “okay” that she didn’t believe a word of it. She could tell there was something more than friendship in my eyes.

  “Make them pink,” I said. “Not red.”

  “Okay,” she said again, this time in complete compliance.

  I went back into my office to look at the samples that Hensley had dropped off. I unzipped the garment bags one at a time and laid them onto the desk. They were incredible. Even with how rushed she had been and how tired I was sure she must have been getting, the pieces were absolutely perfect in accordance with my vision. I couldn’t lose her, not as a designer or a friend. I had to fix this somehow.

  “She has one model for you.”

  Suddenly my secretary’s voice seemed to be able to project all the way through the office building.

  “Okay, thank you,” I shouted back. “Not two?”

  “Nope, just one. You’re still short one.”

  Ugh, maybe I should have just agreed to let Hensley do it. It would have prevented the whole argument that we had just had, avoided her leaving here and thinking that I thought she was too hideous to be seen on stage, and filled the still remaining spot that I was short on a model for the show. The show was only a few days away. I needed to get my act together.

  “Flowers are sent!” she shouted down the hallway again.

  I placed all the samples back into their bags and zipped them all up. Then I left them inside my locked office and headed out. I let my secretary know I was leaving for the day and then headed back to my apartment to work on getting the show’s logistics organized and the plan made for the roll-out, which would follow. I would spend the rest of the evening working from home and text Hensley in a little while to see if she had gotten the flowers and was ready to talk to me again.

  After I had everything in line, then the rest of it should be relatively on auto-pilot. In the morning, I would head back over to Hensley’s workshop to return the samples and give her the go-ahead to contact production and get things moving. The only problem that still remained was the one missing model and the one damaged dress; all things considered, that was pretty damn good. I knew Hensley would get the dress fixed, and then I would talk to her again about entertaining the idea of letting her model at the show. I still didn’t like it. I didn’t like how Cai kept trying to cozy up with her and how she seemed not to notice him weasel his way in. But that was Hensley; she never seemed to see when guys were into her.

  Including me.

  9

  Chapter Nine (Hensley)

  I went straight to F.I.T. after I had left Arlo’s office to work on fixing that dress. That way, I could be done and caught up with everything I needed to do until he had approved the samples. That way, I could go back out with Cai again tonight and wash away all my feelings about Arlo thinking I’m not pretty enough to model with a round of rainbow shots.

  Fortunately, the blood had only spilled on one section of the skirt, so I removed it and replaced it without too much of a hassle. Once I was finished, I put it inside a new garment bag and headed back to drop it off at Arlo’s office. My hand was still throbbing from the cut the night before, but I really didn’t care. I hadn’t even taken off the bandage that Cai had put on because I didn’t want to see what it looked like. I just wanted to go back to that club and dance some more.

  On my walk back to Luscious, I realized that I actually had no way to get in touch with Cai, though. I had never gotten his number, and I really didn’t want to just show up at that club and stand awkwardly in a crowd of people, hoping to spot him. It was so crammed with partiers last night that it would be nearly impossible to find him without going together, even with his striking platinum hair. I had almost resigned myself to maybe having to spend the night alone in my apartment, nursing my hangover with a cup of hot tea and so
othing my hand with an ice pack, all of which sounded a lot less fun than going back to the night club.

  When I got to Luscious, Arlo’s secretary was just locking up to leave.

  “Hang on,” I said as I ran up to her. “I need to give this dress to Arlo.”

  “He’s already left for the night. Do you want me to let you in so that you can leave it in his office?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Doesn’t he normally stay later than this?”

  “Yes, but I think he had some things to do at home tonight. How did you like the flowers?”

  “What flowers?” I asked.

  She made a face like she had said something that she wasn’t supposed to, and then she started dialing a number on her phone.

  “Go ahead on up and leave the dress for him,” she said. “I’ll wait right here to lock up when you’re done.”

  “Okay,” I said as I walked inside and heard her start to chew somebody out on the other end of the phone line. Arlo’s secretary could be vicious when she wanted to be.

  When I got up to his office, the door was locked. I didn’t really want to leave this dress unsecured, especially since there would be absolutely no way to make an entire replacement in time if something were to happen to it. I didn’t even have enough of this fabric left to do that. I hung it from the top of the door molding and then went down to tell his secretary about it.

  “Hey, his door is locked, so I can’t get into his office,” I said. “I really am nervous about just leaving that dress hanging outside of his door. If anyone were to take it, the show would be ruined.”

  “Don’t worry,” she assured me. “Arlo is always the first one into the building in the morning, and I’m always the second one in. No one else has keys. I’ll check on it in the morning when I get in, and if for some odd reason, I make it in before Mr. Pratt does, I’ll take care of the dress. It’s perfectly safe locked up in there for tonight.”