The "Stylist" | Book I in a Series of Mistaken Identities

THE WRANGLING BEGINS

Charles

It was actually a little frightening at how easy it was to have Jessica let go from the McQueen campaign. I didn't even have to lift a finger. I told Laurie to deal with it and two hours later she sent me a link to the headline confirming a job done.

This is what money buys you, power. Though in the wrong hands, it can be dangerous. I'm not exactly a hundred percent comfortable with playing with the lives of others like this, but Miss Rollins started this game, and I'm just finishing it.

After several unsuccessful attempts to call Valerie, I left a message on her voicemail asking her to join me at the hotel opening tonight. I doubt she'll come after yesterday. Her jabs were spot on; I'm not used to being rejected, but that taunting smile of hers doesn't scream no.

Laurie was surprised when I left work early to go to the gym. My routine has always been the same, every day, but the idea of seeing Valerie tonight made me too nervous to work. Definitely, not a sensation I'm used to, and I use the gym to work out my frustrations.

After my shower, I get into my custom, emerald green, velvet, three-piece suit. It's a bit much compared to what most men wear here in New York, but in Tokyo average is just plain boring.

I decided to have a little fun and style my hair the way Valerie did on the day of the shoot. I saw the cover yesterday; they used the photo where I'm blatantly enamored by her ass as goes to pick up my jacket. She made me look like I just went on a sex marathon. If that's what she likes, I'm down to mix it up. Maybe she'll go on a sex marathon with me, and I can show her what I really look like afterward.

I chose the Lamborghini for the night. The golden trim matches my golden shoes, necklace, and watch that all border on tacky. I take a lollipop from the Centre console and stick it in my mouth. I've developed a taste for the cherry ones, no surprise how. When I arrive at the hotel it's still in my mouth as the photographers start snapping away. I look around discreetly for any sign of Valerie but since I'm late to my own party she's probably inside, that's if she even came at all.

About thirty minutes later once I've done the rounds and glad-handed everyone that needed glad-handing. I'm at the bar nursing whiskey disappointed that Valerie didn't come. As I abandon all hope of her coming, I hear Valerie's laughter pierce through the white noise of the party. There's no doubt it's her and I feel my heart pound away.

I leave my glass and hone in on her location. The moment I see her I'm awe-struck. That sparkling gold dress lures me in like a moth to her flame. For a moment I just stand there watching as she listens to some guy rattle about his holiday house. She's bored, and this guy is clueless. When Valerie sees me approaching a little smile creeps onto her face. I can see her fighting it, but my ego gives itself a high five.

"Excuse us please," I take Valerie's hand, "I have a bone to pick with this one." I lead her straight to the dance floor without even asking and pull her close. It's only when my hand touches the bare skin of her back do I realize her dress is completely backless and I can't help but grumble in approval. "You look beautiful," I press her closer and she gracefully follows my lead.

"How do you do it?" She says looking me over in my suit, "How does a grown man pull off a suit like that with a rhinestone necklace under his collar?"

"These aren't rhinestones, Honey."

She smiles, "Yeah? No shit."

As we dance, I feel her relax into my arms. I need to find a way to spend time with her alone and get to know her better. Luckily, while I was running like a maniac on the treadmill to try and get her out of my system I was struck with the ideal plan. "Valerie, I require your expertise in a delicate matter. Have you ever considered working as a personal shopper?"