And me? I was just glad that I didn’t let her down.
The girls did three passes, switching dresses furiously in the back. After Jess and I had finished the last turnaround, we held hands as the models made their walks for the finale.
After the last model had made her turn, a chant went up: “X, X, X!” Soon everyone was chanting, “X, X, X!” It was time for Designer X to take a bow, only Jess was seized with stage fright.
“You’ve got to go, and you know it,” I said. “Come on, step out in front for once.”
“No. It’s your moment. You created Designer X. You drove me to do this crazy thing, and you invented a name for it, dragging me into it until I had to do the best work I could possibly do.”
“It’s the designer who ends the show,” I said, but I could see the wheels turning in her head before I finished speaking.
“Not when you’re wearing my best dress.”
All the models had taken the stage and joined the audience in clapping and chanting. Bennie dropped a totally ecstatic pop beat that sounded like little musical bubbles colliding. As everyone chanted “X, X, X,” Designer X and I held hands and took the runway triumphant. I did a spin in Jess’s finest dress, and we both took a bow.
It was over almost as soon as it started. Apparently the cops had been there for the last ten minutes but were nice enough not to shut us down. Chase was tearing the whole thing apart as fast as he put it up.
Bloggers, tweeters, and the like swamped us from all sides with cameras, microphones, and smartphones.
When I introduced Isak to Jess, they bonded immediately, instant best friends and colleagues. As more and more people gathered around Jess, I slipped away. I found a bottle of water and a quiet corner and tried to bring my heartbeat down to a normal level. Finally I could catch my breath.
“That’s quite a show you pulled off, Lisbeth,” a voice said from the shadows.
“Who is that?” I said and turned to see ZK emerging into the light.
“No. You can’t just show up like this.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, holding out his open hand. “More sorry than you will ever believe. Can we talk?”
“I don’t know,” I said, stepping away from him.
He was dressed in a tux, his dark wavy hair slicked back the way it was when we first met. The gold flecks in his green eyes reflected the last of the lights from the fashion show.
“I know it’s hard but there are things you need to know,” he said.
“Are you okay?” I asked him.
“Me? I’m fine. It’s about the bracelet.”
“Why did you take it?”
“I can’t talk here. Will you come with me?”
“Hey Lisbeth!” Chase called. I turned. “We’re going out to celebrate. You’re joining us, right?”
“Yes. Text me where. I need to do something first,” I said, trying not to look behind me.
“Are you talking to someone?” Chase asked.
I turned back to ZK and saw he was hiding in the shadows.
“No, but I’ll catch up with you soon,” I said.
“You’re sure?”
I nodded and he left.
“Follow me,” ZK said, half his face in shadow. And I did.
64
The stretch limo pulled away almost as soon as the door closed. In the darkness I hadn’t realized anyone else was there.
“Nice of you to join us, Lisbeth,” Dahlia said, neatly tucked away in the back corner of her limo. Wearing a silver metallic Cavalli minidress with a plunging neckline and a broad silver cuff, she was provocative and intimidating at the same time. “ZK is lovely as always, isn’t he?”
ZK watched impassively.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“I think men are so much more attractive when they’re depressed, don’t you?” She examined ZK’s profile as if he were a curiosity in a store that she might buy. “They have this deep, brooding, desperate look when they’re disheartened, like trapped creatures. I think it’s sexy. What do you think, Lisbeth?”
“I think you’re a monster.”
“Oh now I’m a monster. That’s flattering,” she said as if it was the funniest joke in the world. Holding out her champagne glass, she waited for ZK to get the message. He filled her glass from a nearby bottle.
“We enjoyed your little fashion show, didn’t we, ZK?” A glaze had settled in ZK’s eyes, which locked in a long-suffering expression of his that was familiar to me. “Join me in a toast to Designer X,” she said, holding up her glass, “and an end to the little pretend life you’ve been living.” Her laser-focused eyes bored into mine so intensely I felt like I would evaporate into nothing.
“ZK, if you had any decency you’d stop this,” I pleaded.
Dahlia threw back her head and laughed.
“Decency?” she said, barely glancing at ZK. “I think that word left the family crest ages ago. Besides, ZK showed me this exquisite bracelet of yours.” She pulled Nan’s inscribed platinum band out of her silver clutch and waved it in front of me.
“Give it back.”
“That wouldn’t be much fun, would it?” She slipped the bracelet on and off her slender wrist. “That’s the problem with you, Lisbeth. You’re not much fun, and I like my friends to be more fun.”
“I can see that I have deeply offended you, and I am sorry. But, please, I will never bother you again, please give me the bracelet and I will go away.”
It was hard to describe the expression on her face. It was like the look of a cat pinning its claw down on a mouse’s tail. My begging delighted her.
“You don’t bother me, Lisbeth. You’re not fun, but you’re entertaining.” Dahlia placed the bracelet back in her clutch and snapped it shut. “So tell us about your Nan? She sounds like a fascinating person,” Dahlia began, gazing into my eyes with mock seriousness. “Dulac—that’s her last name, isn’t it? Just like yours.” She laughed again, more of a cackle, really.
“You couldn’t possibly understand anything about my grandmother. Nan is a wonderful person, with more grace and style than you or anyone you know,” I answered.
“Oh really? Then I assume you are aware she’s also a tad notorious. Not to mention your grandfather—Sammy G—‘hardened criminals,’ I think, is the term they use.”
“You’ve got it wrong. His name wasn’t Sammy. My grandfather’s name was Frank and he was just a construction worker.”
Dahlia could hardly contain her pleasure.
“So you grew up thinking he was a construction worker? What’s that expression they have where you come from? Fuhgeddahbouddit!”
“Okay, stop it now, Dahlia,” ZK spoke up. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Take it easy, lover boy,” she replied. “We’ll be done soon enough.” She ran her hands through his hair like he was a pet. His eyes haunted, he looked horribly humiliated.
“Poor ZK,” Dahlia said, studying his profile. “Even though the whole affair was my idea, I think he actually fell in love with you.”
ZK shoved Dahlia’s hand away.
“Stop the car!” he yelled, and the limo pulled to the curb. ZK opened the door and stormed out. The steam from a manhole cover rose up in the street. We had driven uptown, but I couldn’t see where.
“Lisbeth, please get out of the car,” he said. Dahlia didn’t seem to care, so I slipped from the limo, relieved to be outside but concerned about the platinum band in Dahlia’s clutch. She watched the scene unfold as if she were viewing a play.
“Lisbeth, this is the truth, and you might as well know because Dahlia is going to expose it,” ZK said. “Dahlia put a private detective on your case as soon as she met you. She pushed me to invite you to Soho House that night. The man who you thought was your grandfather is the Sammy G who gave that bracelet to your grandmother. He was a Mafia boss who had been in hiding for almost forty years until he died. He married a society girl named Simon Fleurice Dulac—your grandmother—who vanished mysteriously decades ago.”