Beautiful People - Chapter 34: Chapter 34

The tickets to Carmen and Marina's charity fashion show were a lot more expensive than Vera expected. She bought one anyway. She really did want to support them, and not just because she was glad that despite the photo leak and subsequent press frenzy they were still getting along well enough to work together. During all of her soul-searching, she had started to realize that Carmen had been right, that day by the pool when she had drunkenly spilled far too many personal details; even though her fame had seemed like an insurmountable barrier, and despite how infuriating she could be, Carmen had managed to sneak into that small group of people Vera considered friends. Or, more accurately, she had kicked down the door and swanned through it.
Although she still nursed a desire to expose Lily as the leaker and clear her name, Vera had accepted that probably wasn't going to happen. Instead, she had sent Carmen a set of designer recommendations, just like she had for Marina. She'd even included some ideas of ways to style certain pieces for events during her upcoming Oscars campaign. It hadn't surprised her when she'd heard nothing back. She knew how excellent Carmen was at holding a grudge. Besides, with Carmen she'd only kept a secret, which was different from ghosting on her work responsibilities. She was still working on other ways to make it up to the actor. In the meantime, she would show up for her, because she wanted her friends to succeed at whatever they did. Even when they weren't talking to her
So that was why she was here now, the cool autumn night drawing around her like a velvet robe as she waited in line outside the warehouse venue. Strings of LED lights changed color overhead and music drifted out the open doors. At the front of the line, security was checking tickets and shining a flashlight into purses.
Her nerves vibrated like a kite string in the wind. Some of the most fashionable people Vera had ever seen pressed close around, laughing and talking. Cultural clout was thicker than the drifting marijuana smoke in this crowd. She recognized fashion influencers and minor celebrities, and she even caught some of them recognizing her in return.
"That's because we look fabulous," Jay said, when she leaned in to ask if he'd noticed the looks they were getting.
When she'd said she was going to the fundraiser, he admitted he had already bought a ticket. He'd been working with both Carmen and Marina even longer than Vera, and she knew he had a soft spot for them, too, no matter how much he might call them divas.
He was wearing the shit out of the suit she'd made him, now altered to fit him gloriously. The deep orange looked radiant against his brown skin and gold eyeshadow. She hadn't told him that it meant a lot to her, how much he liked the suit, but she was pretty sure he knew.
"Everyone else looks fabulous, too," she pointed out now. And they did. The dress code had been ambiguous, so ballgowns brushed hems with voluminous pleated jeans, but it was clear that no one had been able to resist the chance to show off their good taste.
"Sure, they look fine. But we have that somethin'-somethin', that je ne sais quois." Jay dropped her a wink. "Who did your hair? It looks amazing. And who are you wearing? That suit is almost as incredible as mine."
She laughed and struck a pose, her hand under her chin. Jay had done her hair, of course, a very short textured cut in her natural raven black. And the suit was her own design. As if she would wear anyone else to a fashion show. A loose pajama-style cut in jade green silk with mustard yellow accents, it was hella comfortable, and it stood out among the models in sexy bodycon dresses. Even if Vera was at least a foot shorter than the average height of the guests.
Standing out mattered, because this whole event was packed with fashion industry people, including some designers who she'd been feeling out about an internship. Deals were negotiated and jobs discussed at events like this. She might be here to support her friends, but that didn't mean she couldn't be practical, too. Her newly revamped portfolio was saved to her phone, just in case.
Their slow drift towards the entrance stuttered every time a limo arrived and spat out a guest too famous for the line. Each of these marched straight to the door while cameras flashed around them and whispers spread in ripples. The gossip ecosystem never slept.
Thumping bass rattled the huge old windows in their frames as they finally reached the front of line and showed their tickets. Then, finally, they slipped inside.
Despite the cartoon tampons on the tickets, the vibe of the show was the opposite of cutesy. The air hummed with energy. A raised catwalk speared out from between layers of canvas curtains at the far end of the warehouse and rows of narrow metal chairs circled it like bristling pins. Caged lightbulbs dangled above the reclaimed wood of the bar, where smoking beverages were passed out with a flourish.
Opposite the runway stood a display of a dozen paintings and sculptures being offered for auction. Vera recognized the primary-colored nude painting in the middle as being from Carmen's private collection; it showed two women curled around each other in bright yellow and blue. The sight made her grin. Carmen knew exactly what she was doing by including that painting in particular.
Scanning the crowd, Jay let out a gasp. "Oh my god. I didn't know Cove was gonna be here. Did you know Cove was gonna be here?"
Vera looked around. "Cove as in the absolutely stunning nonbinary model who rocked New York Fashion Week and now no one can stop talking about?"
"That's the one."
"I've been following them obsessively. They didn't mention they were coming on their socials. Wow, they look great tonight."
"They always look great." Jay gave her a cheeky grin. "I used to talk to them sometimes. Y'know what, I should go say hi." He laughed at her stunned expression and slipped away into the crowd.
Alone, Vera grabbed a drink from the bar. The themed cocktail had dry ice in it. Probably something to do with burning bras. She ordered a beverage that didn't smoke alarmingly.
Over slow sips she studied the guests. Marina had told her Sharise would be here, and at every flash of dark brown skin or box braids, she found herself looking twice. Given the radioactive fallout that had ended her position as Carmen's manager Vera thought it strange that Sharise would come to this event, but if anyone was going to support their friends even through an ugly split, it was her.
The thought of seeing her sent tingles down Vera's spine. Sharise hadn't called after she had left the gift by her door. Besides, Vera was still a work in progress when it came to getting her shit together: she might have moved into her own apartment and Carmen had been the last of her former clients on her list of apologies, but she hadn't secured an internship yet.
As she nibbled a pickle snagged off a passing server's tray, she spotted one of the designers who'd seemed open to the idea of taking her on as an intern. The show looked like it wouldn't be starting for a while. It was time to get serious.
So that's what she did. Meandering slowly by the auction items, she started up conversations with designers and influencers, saying hello to those she knew from her styling work and introducing herself to others she was familiar with through their online profiles. If she'd been a little nervous, that quickly gave way to a feeling of comfort as the talk turned to trends and colors, which celebrities had signed brand ambassador deals and whose line had been a flop at the fall fashion week shows. Vera knew her stuff. She'd never felt more confident about that than when a designer she respected admired her suit and asked her if she had other work to show. Soon she had two different phone numbers with invitations to reach out to the designers they belonged to. She'd have that internship by the end of the week.
In a lull between conversations, she glanced out over the crowd again, still half-hoping to see Sharise. Instead, she spotted Fatima Bhatia. The designer was wearing all black today, from her sleek hijab to the toes of her patent leather slingback pumps, every line impeccably tailored. She was doing the rounds of the room, greeting guests in that idiosyncratic way of hers.
Vera took in a sharp breath. She had thought a lot about their meeting in Venice, and she could admit now that she had acted like a brat. She'd let her ego get in the way of hearing what the experienced designer had been telling her. This whole internship thing had of course been Fatima Bhatia's idea. She had blown her chance of getting an internship with her idol, but that didn't mean she didn't have other things she wanted to say to her.
Shaking off the cringy memory of their first meeting, she lifted her shoulders and marched straight up to Fatima Bhatia.
Or rather, she marched over in her general direction, and then lingered, pretending to look at the art, while the designer chatted with someone else. But the instant that conversation ended, she sucked in a breath and said hello.
Fatima Bhatia looked her up and down. "Let me see the shoes. Are those puffy platform slides? Almost like slippers." She hummed in thought, rubbing the nails of one hand against her other palm. "I would have added jewels, but I don't mind it simple. This is a look with a point of view," she decided.
"Thank you," Vera said, eyes widening.
"That view might be that you'd rather be sleeping, but who wouldnt." She cracked a grin. "Who did the suit? I'm not familiar with this work."
"Oh. Me. I did. It's my work." Vera could feel her face heating. She hadn't expected compliments, and she hadn't planned to promote herself to Bhatia because she was sure that door was closed. Fumbling for her next words, she plowed on with her original plan. "Listen, I've been thinking about what you said in Venice."
The corners of Bhatia's liquid amber eyes crinkled with her frown. "What did I say in Venice?"
"About Sharise. How you've always wanted her to model for you. Well, I wanted to ask if you'd ever considered asking her to be a brand ambassador?"
Bhatia looked thoughtful. "She's been so long in Carmen Juarez's shadow."
For a moment Vera was back on the rooftop in Venice, squeezing Sharise's hand as she expressed doubts about herself. Brand ambassadors were usually pop stars or famous actors, not people who had spent the last few years behind the scenes like Sharise. Then again, Bhatia's brand wasn't the kind that paid influencers to meme about them and she knew it was a good match.
She pictured Sharise as the star of a swoon-worthy romance movie and set her jaw. "Yes, she has been. But she's not in that shadow anymore and it's time for new opportunities. I know she doesn't want to be a model, but she loves fashion. I think she'd be the perfect face for your brand."
"I admit I hadn't considered this." Bhatia shook her head. "Sharise would be receptive to such a proposal?"
"I don't know," Vera admitted. "She's never talked about it and she didn't ask me to bring this up to you. She might say no, but I think it's worth making her an offer. She seemed to enjoy herself at your Paris show."
"Yes, of course, we had a fabulous time. In Paris we dreamed up this event." She gestured around at the crowd of fashionistas.
Vera didn't know that Sharise had been involved in planning this event. She frowned, but she hadn't figured out what that meant before an assistant popped out of the crowd to touch Bhatia's arm and whisper in her ear. The designer nodded and the assistant turned and scurried away.
Bhatia studied her for a long moment. "You're a curious person, Vera Kwan. You wish to be a designer, yes? Why aren't you showing today?" She gestured at the catwalk, where a few guests had begun to settle into the chairs.
Of course, as one of the organizers of this event, Bhatia might already know the answer to her own question, but either way, Vera was tired of being dishonest. If she couldn't learn fashion design from her idol, at least she could try out her directness. She shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortably. "Because I was kind of an asshole to some people."
Directness was hard when it mattered. She would have to work on that.
A shower of laughter fell from Bhatia's lips. "How truthful. Very admirable. I heard you've been talking to designers about becoming an intern. You might show me your portfolio sometime. I would be interested to see more of your work."
She swept away, the crowd parting before her. Vera stared after her, open-mouthed.
At that moment, Jay flowed out of the crowd on her other side. His drink frothed white fog out over the gold bangles on his wrist. "Interesting conversation?"
"You could say that." Vera shook her head. She had only meant to make her case for Sharise, not ask for a job. Surely she had imagined that last bit. Hadn't she blown her chance with Bhatia in Venice?
Jay slurped his drink through a paper straw, then nodded towards the backstage entrance. "So, guess who's here doing makeup for some of the models?"
It took her a moment. Then- "You can't be serious."
He made a face like he had just smelled something horrific. "Babe, I know we said there isn't anything we can do about her. But Lily is backstage right now and I don't like it."