Scandalous Heroes Box Set (4 page)

There went her eye-candy. Kyra tossed the empty sausage dog wrapper into the trash and hurried back to the building. Theodore Tate glanced up at her approach. He held the door.

“Ah, sorry, Mr. Tate, I had a late lunch because—”

“Kyra, do you have plans this evening?” Mr. Tate asked.

It was the first time he actually asked her a personal question. Mostly he barked orders at her, and rarely evoked her Christian name. She glanced over to him a bit surprised. “Ah, no.”

“You sure?” he asked as they walked toward the elevator. His tone seemed more like an accusation than a question.

“Plans? Me? Yes I’m sure,” she said, and her heart raced. Was this man going to ask her out? She prayed not. Maybe he heard about Cezar’s abrupt appearance in the office. With Mr. Tate she didn’t know what he was thinking or meaning until it was too late.

“Good to hear,” he said.

“It is?”

“Yes. I want you to go and find Cleo. Have her fit you for a dress. We have an event tonight and I… I need back up.” Mr. Tate informed her.

“Excuse me, sir? Back up?” she asked.

The elevator doors closed. Back up was not the same as a date. It was far from it. Exactly what did he expect of her?

Theodore Tate sighed. “Mirabella is refusing to meet with me. She’s considering closing the New York office.” Mr. Tate ran his hand nervously back over his hair. He couldn’t look at her when he spoke. Something was wrong. “Tonight the executive team and I are hosting a dinner for Catalina and Mirabella’s sister, Marietta. I’ve got to convince them to keep me on board with this move. I need you to stay close to the women. Listen to them. See if you can learn anything about what they are thinking… about me.”

“But why me?” she asked.

They stepped off the elevator. Mr. Tate paused. He gave her a long look over. “Catalina is a very perceptive woman. She has worked with everyone in this office and… well I can’t trust the people in this office to be loyal to me.”

“And you trust me?” Kyra asked.

“You’re sharp, kid. I see you want to get involved with the fashion business. You’re hungry. You remind me of Mirabella when she first started in this business. Look, kid, things are changing fast. I’m offering you an opportunity here. I just need you to come to the party, mix and mingle. Listen to people. Help me get a read on these folks to see who is on my side and who is not. Do this for me. I’ll make things happen for you.”

Kyra smiled. “Okay. I can try.”

“Good.” He walked over to the door and held it open. Beneath Kyra’s cool façade she felt her nerves jitter in response. This was it. Mr. Tate had finally seen her ambition and recognized it. This could be her moment to shine. All she needed to do now was turn this opportunity around to her advantage.

“Thank you, Mr. Tate.”

He tipped his head at her and strolled off. Kyra started toward her receptionist desk when Cleo Dillard happened to be walking past with her junior assistant.

“Cleo!” Mr. Tate said and doubled back. “A word, please.”

“Yes, Teddy?” Cleo snipped. Few women in the office were bold enough to reference the pet name ‘Teddy or Teddy Bear’ and get away with it. Cleo was blonde, leggy, busty, and rumored to have spent some time on her knees with Mr. Tate’s dick down her throat. So it wasn’t surprising that she would toss it out to him casually.

“Kyra will be attending the event tonight as my guest. I want you to fit her with one of the originals in the showroom. Make sure she is appropriate for dinner at the Waldorf.”

Cleo’s gaze shifted to her. She gave her a look of pure outrage. As if Kyra in a Mirabella design was blasphemous. Mr. Tate walked off without another word.

“So you’re on the menu now?” Cleo asked.

“Excuse me?” Kyra responded.

“Oh please. His guest? Really? From secretary to the token Nubian plaything in a nanosecond? Good flexing of your jaws should get you a corner office,” Cleo snipped.

“You should know,” Kyra addressed her with a smile. “From what I hear around the office they call you lock-jaw.” Kyra crossed her arms and glared directly at Cleo. She took a lot of shit off of the women in the office. But not today. Today she had the upper hand.

Cleo’s junior assistant tried to hide her smile. Cleo however face turned red as a tomato. “Hmpf!” she stormed off.

Cleo’s junior assistant, a petite black girl named Kim with a short buzz haircut and black-rimmed glasses stared at her. She wore black pants, a white button down shirt, and black and white checkered suspenders. Kim was a lesbian and the coolest of all the junior assistants. She looked up at her with an amused smile. “Well?”

“Well what? She had it coming!” Kyra said in her defense.

“Not her silly. You. Get a move on. Today we dress Cinderella for the ball,” Kim winked.

“Yes!” Kyra grinned and clapped her hands in excitement. “Let me show you what you’re working with.”

Kim laughed and winked. “Well alright!”

***

The dress she decided on was arguably the most beautiful in the collection. Even Bette left her office to come witness her spin around the floor in the dress. She was nervous taking it off so Kim had to help. She stood before them now with sweaty palms and her heart lodged in her throat. Kim handed her over the garment bag with care.

“It’s a loaner, Kyra. You get a stain, a rip, or have anything happen to it and you can kiss a year’s worth of your salary goodbye,” Cleo warned. She looked Kyra over as if she were lower class. “Make that two years worth of your salary goodbye.”

“I understand. I… Trust me I will be careful. It’s so gorgeous.” Kyra grinned. She refused to be baited. Excitement had her bubbling with happiness.

“Make sure you choose a silver or pewter pair of shoes to go with this. Not those monstrosities you constantly parade around the office in.” Kyra bristled. Everyone knew she designed her own shoes. The dig was personal. Cleo looked down to her feet and brought her gaze back up to level on Kyra. 

“Don’t worry. I can accessorize.” Kyra assured her. She turned and walked off toward the door. She stopped and looked back. “What will you be wearing?”

“I’m not going, wasn’t invited.” Cleo said.

“That’s right,” Kyra said with a smile and winked. She left.

As soon as she turned the corner she saw Bette. Her office mate looked her over and then pointed for her to follow. Kyra wasn’t sure why she felt nervous but she did. She walked into Bette’s office and while balancing the dress managed to close the door. Bette returned to her chair behind her desk. It gave her a position of authority. Bette was sure to evoke every chance she got.

“I hear Tate is taking you to the dinner tonight?” Bette asked.

“Not as a date. It’s business. He just wants me to—”

“Be his spy.” Bette rocked back. “Have a seat, Kyra.”

She nodded and went to the chair and sat down. She placed the garment bag on her lap. “You’re a sweet kid, an ambitious one.”

“I’m only two years younger than you,” Kyra corrected her.

“My point is you’re talented. So I’m going to do you a favor and give you some advice – don’t go.”

“What?”

Bette sat forward. “Tate is desperate. Things are changing and he has no influence or say in the direction of the business anymore. I don’t care what he’s promised you, he’s done. Five years ago when Mirabella and Fabiana were here Tate had the run of things. They trusted him and ignored his bullshit. Since Fabiana’s death the run of this business has been under Giovanni Battaglia. You do know who he is?”

Kyra shook her head no. Bette sighed as if her ignorance was aggravating. “The Battaglias are cleaning house. That means Tate’s out. Now…” Bette spun her chair around and looked out of the window. “The rest of us could be too.”

“But he said, well he made it seem like he was negotiating.”

Bette laughed. “The Battaglias aren’t people to negotiate with. Spying on any conversation or doing Tate’s dirty work is dangerous.” Bette turned her chair to level her eyes on Kyra over the top rim of her glasses. “Do you understand?”

“No. Actually I don’t. It’s a business dinner. Not a Mafia sit down,” Kyra chuckled.

Bette turned her chair back around. “I remember this company when Mirabella was here. It’s not the same. Take your talent out there and beat the pavement. Make it happen for yourself. But don’t pursue it here. And if you’re dumb enough to ignore my warning, be careful tonight.”

Kyra’s confidence wavered. “Okay, I will.” She stood. “I have to catch my train. Thanks for the warning, Bette.”

Bette nodded. Kyra felt like there was something more she wanted to say. Kyra waited a bit and then turned for the door. Into her mind crept another thought. She glanced back at Bette who continued to stare directly at her. What if Bette didn’t mean her well? What if she was trying to stop her from being anything more than just the secretary? She and Bette weren’t too far apart in age, and if Kyra had gone on to be the surgeon her parents dreamed she’d be, she’d be equally accomplished. Bette stared her in the eyes with an unwavering look. Kyra forced a smile. “See you tonight?”

“See you tonight,” Bette replied without a hint of enthusiasm.

She left Bette’s office with a deep sigh. The New York fashion scene was ambitious and ruthless. The warning did rattle Kyra, but not because of the Battaglias’ rumored Mafia connection. The warning unnerved her because every face she passed had that tight congested look of fear. All of their jobs were on the line if the company was moving. It would be survival of the fittest until the very end.

Kyra walked fast back to her receptionist cubicle. She had plenty to do. Quickly she gathered her things. She nearly forgot her coat as she rushed out to the elevator. She put it on and beat a fast walk to the train. On the ride out to the Bronx she held her dress in her arms and tried to hide her smile. Tonight was her night. She could feel it.

***

“You better work it, girl!” Jamie snapped her fingers. “Now give me a twirl, honey. Do it, do it, baby! Unh huh, that’s right!” she said with the clap of her hands like a choreographer.

Kyra spun out twice. The material of the dress literally flowed like silk around her thighs.

“No ma’am! I’m not having that shit! Give me a
real
spin!” Jamie demanded with a drill sergeant clap.

Kyra did as Jamie said and spun out like wonder woman. Her arms extended and her head dropped back. She gave it her all.

Jamie cheered. “Faaaaab-u-lisssssh!”

Kyra laughed. She wheezed and bumped the wall with her hands to her head. Slowly the room stopped spinning. “Jamie, you’re crazy girl!”

“Me? You can’t stroll up in here with a Mirabella original and not put it to work, honey!” Jamie snapped her fingers.

The laughter felt as if it would never end. Kyra squeezed her eyes shut tightly and put a hand to her heart. She slowly caught her breath. Jamie was a neighbor. Actually she lived above Kyra. And she was the closest person Kyra had in her life since she became estranged from her parents. And Jamie was one of a kind. She was a pre-op transsexual who lived her life totally as a woman. She’d have the surgery soon, once she saved enough money. On the weekends, and mostly when they were both free they’d spend time together designing shoes. Jamie brought a sense of flare to her designs that she loved.

“Well, now that you caught your breath, sweet baby, take a look for yourself.” Jamie said. “Go on. Check it out.”

Kyra pushed up from the wall. She stepped to the mirror on the back of Jamie’s closed closet door. There she took a long look at herself. She had her mother’s skin tone, a rich dark brown that always looked best in bright colors. And the jade green evening dress with the low cut bodice and tight waistline shimmered with vibrancy over her curves. Her hair was piled up on her head in a purposeful tangle of curls like the exotic curl-fro of a Nubian princess. She liked the way her neckline was exposed. “Should I pin my hair up in the back and straighten out some of my curls to the front? Give it a more sophisticated look?” she gathered some of her hair up and turned her head from left to right in consideration.

“I like the afro-chic thing you got going. It’s all you, Kyra. Plus it gives that dress flavuh, honey.” Jamie whistled.

Kyra nodded. She smoothed down the front of the dress. “It’s beautiful. But you know, I think the hem could be a bit higher. This is the 90’s. The more thigh you show the better,” Kyra said.

“Then let’s fix that.” Jamie sashayed over to her sewing table.

“No! We can’t. It’s not my dress,” Kyra said.

“Honey, please. You wearing it tonight, and tonight it’s yours. Besides I know what I’m doing.” Jamie reminded her. “Tomorrow you bring me the dress and I can take the hemline back down and press the silk out better than a dry cleaners before you take it back.”

“Really? I want to help. I still haven’t learned your technique.” Kyra smoothed out her dress.

“No worries, baby doll.” Jamie said and stepped to the window. She stared down at someone below. Jamie was always in her window. And during the summer it was always open. If she didn’t live on the fifth floor she’d be the lady who watched the neighborhood like that one on that television show 227. But Jamie wasn’t that old. As a young black boy she grew up in rural Alabama in a family of thirteen boys. Jamie said her mother always wanted a girl and used to dress her up for fun. It was how she learned to sew and gained her sense of style. Her mother died when Jamie was nine and life was hard. Her brothers didn’t understand her so at fourteen she ran away and never looked back. Jamie would tell Kyra stories of what she had to do to survive on the streets and they were scary heart wrenching tales. Now Jamie was in her early thirties, and even without makeup she was flawless. She had a petite slender frame, and real breasts that an ex-lover bought for her. Men often mistook Jamie for a woman. When she lounged around the flat she wore kimonos with long red fingernails and painted toes. And she had so many wigs Kyra never knew what she’d wear on any given day. Today she was a brunette with blonde streaks mixed in her long waterfall curls tied down by a matching black satin scarf on the top of her head like a pirate. Kyra loved her style.