Penny in London

  “Penelope, it’s so good to see you,” Oliver said.

  “Hello, Oliver,” was all I managed to eke out.

  “Hello.” He glanced down at my bag. “I see you got the bag.”

  It sat in the crook of my arm and I lifted it slightly then let it drop back down. “Oh my God, yes. Uh, um, thank you so much. W-words can’t express,” I fumbled out. Apparently. My cheeks burned.

  Oliver smiled that clever smile of his, the one that let on he knew more than he was revealing. I realized how much I missed it.

  “You’re welcome. And thank you for the video. I got a hundred more orders after you posted it, and I’m sure I’ll have a hundred more in my email when I get back.”

  “I hope you didn’t find that too forward,” I said formally.

  “Not at all. It was kind.”

  Oh my God! This is a disaster! We’re talking like we’ve never met before.

  Oliver stared at me as the blonde goddess met his side after talking with someone she’d run into. To avoid the heat of his incredible gaze, I turned toward his date. It was Oliver’s turn to be awkward.

  “I’m so sorry,” he blurted, remembering himself. His hand rested at the small of her back, which made me feel ill. “This is Jasmine.”

  Jasmine stuck out her hand and I took it.

  “Like the princess!” I stupidly babbled.

  “Yes,” she said with a smile that revealed she was out of my league, “just like.” Her London accent coupled with the sexpot timbre of her voice was too much. I was growing smaller by the second next to her.

  “Oh God,” I muttered. “I’m an idiot. Sorry.” My hand went to my hair and I sighed. “I’m sorry, Jasmine. I’m just a bit awkward.” I pointed to my head. “No filter. It can’t be helped, unfortunately,” I chattered. Jasmine looked concerned, which sucked. “Just ignore me!” I giggled like a buffoon.

  “Excuse me,” I heard someone shout behind me.

  I turned to find the assistant yelling my direction, for quite a while possibly, judging by the frustrated look on his face.

  “Well, got to go. As you can see,” I said, gesturing behind me. “See you inside?” I asked and shot off without waiting for an answer.

  I wanted to die. I practically ran into the assistant, forcing him to catch me and set me to rights.

  “Oh Lord, I’m sorry. Excuse me.”

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, fine. Thanks. Where to?”

  “Just this way. Don’t forget to smile,” he encouraged.

  I gulped and breathed one deep breath before raising my face to the flash of cameras before me. I smiled and forced myself to forget the humiliating spectacle I’d just been the star of. I posed for the cameras and flirted with the photographers, letting them know who I was, what I did, and who I represented when they yelled their questions. The whole affair took less than ten minutes, but by the end I was exhausted. I wondered how celebrities did it so often without wanting to tear their hair out afterward. I wanted to find Georgiana. Hell, I’d have settled for an oh-my-gawd girl at that point.

  Inside, it was packed to the max. The catwalk was lined with chairs already filled with celebrities I had no chance of getting anywhere near. I studied their faces and their bodies, a secret thrill that I was sharing air with them, then I realized something.

  They were human. They’re literally human like everyone else. Their faces weren’t any more beautiful than a lot of people you saw walking down the street. Their bodies, while toned, really weren’t anything you’d lend godhood to. I giggled to myself wondering how many people out there broke their backs to try to be like them. Little did they know they already were, save for the fame and possibly fortune part, but as we all know, neither of those things brings you happiness.

  Rounding the edge of the crowd, I slunk toward the back hoping to get a glimpse of Georgiana. I finally found her in the corner two rows back from the right side of the catwalk. She saw me and waved me toward her. She pointed toward a seat next to her.

  “Awesome!” I shouted over the din of the crowd at her with an “okay” signal.

  I skirted past ten or so people who looked important, probably were important, but couldn’t bring myself to care all that much because all I wanted to do was sit down and catalog all the stupid crap I’d done before walking the red carpet.

  “How did it go?” Georgiana asked as I sat.

  “Fine, I suppose. I chatted up the photographers, let them know I repped FACE. You’d have been so proud,” I told her.

  She squeezed my hand. “Oh, that’s just brilliant, Penelope! I’m so getting a raise when all is said and done this week. And Pen?” she asked to get my attention. I turned toward her. “Your campaign has brought us such a kick in revenue, darling!”

  “Get out of town! I’m so happy! What a success!”

  “I know,” she said, throwing out her hands. “The world is our oyster, Penelope Beckett!”

  I laughed. “You are such a silly girl and I love it.”

  She sighed and laughed, wrapping her arm in mine. After a few minutes, she leaned into my ear. “Don’t look now, but there is an incredible specimen across the catwalk from us who can’t stop staring at you.”

  My heart leapt into my throat. “Directly across?” I whispered.

  “Across and maybe three chairs to your left? Sharp hair. Shaggy beard. Cut body. Seriously gorgeous, darling.”

  My blood burned with adrenaline. “Oh my God, I think that’s Oliver Finn.”

  “The bag guy?”

  “The very one.”

  “Well, look then, but keep it casual.”

  I let my gaze wander toward the top of the catwalk and then as coolly as possible, let it swing in the direction Georgiana indicated. It was Oliver and he was staring directly at me, the heat of his gaze warming me up to an impossible temperature. I shifted in my seat. My necklace and bracelets jingled as I did so. I tossed my hair from side to side to get some ventilation then smiled and waved.

  Instead of matching my smile as I expected, he kept his gaze serious. It burned me to a crisp on the inside. I felt Georgiana lean farther into me.

  “Oh my God, Penny. That boy wants to eat you for dinner.”

  I felt my face flush. “No, he doesn’t, George. Look at his date.”

  Georgiana giggled. “I guess I should since he can’t seem to be bothered.”

  I broke the gaze somehow and turned into her. “I don’t know why he keeps staring.”

  “You don’t? I never mistook you for a fool, Penelope.”

  I laughed. “Hush.”

  Someone called her name from two rows up and she waved before standing and bending over the patrons behind us to speak to her acquaintance. I was forgotten. Turning back toward Oli, I raised my eyes to his.

  How are you? he mouthed.

  Hot, I mouthed back, fanning myself.

  A sardonic brow raised as well as that Oliver smirk and I realized the double meaning. My face grew hotter as my hands found my cheeks. Oliver laughed, like really gut laughed, which caught the attention of Jasmine and she followed the line of his stare toward me. She sat upright when she saw who he was looking at. She arched her back, which pushed her chest out, then bent into his side. His hand went to her knee as she whispered something into his ear, and I felt my world crumble a little bit more. The tips of his fingers turned white with the grip of his hand, which made me feel sick to my stomach.

  That hand could have been on your knee, I scolded myself. But I wasn’t ready, I argued back like a lunatic. And he’s not into monogamy. No matter how well you carry on together, he will never be able to settle down with one girl.

  Convinced I’d made the right decision six months before as well as satisfied with the idea we could never really be more than what we’d been, I angled my body away from them, and made a pact with myself not to look their direction, no matter what.

  The house lights dimmed over the audience and brightened over the runway. The cr
owd grew quiet.

  “Show’s on,” Georgiana whispered.

  Loud music pumped throughout the overhead speakers and I stole a glance their direction then immediately chided myself. Lines of girls appeared from behind the walls as Andy Marks’s show commenced with flourish. I took at least a thousand pictures with the intent of putting them into a slideshow on the blog along with a few forced selfies with as many people as possible.

  The girls kept coming, and I found myself enthralled with the collection. Lots of unusual prints in gorgeous fabrics flitted down the runway. The following spring was going to be beautiful if what I was looking at was any indication.

  My skin felt heavy and uncomfortable, as if someone was watching me. My hand went to my throat and held there in an attempt to deflect, but it did no good. I tried to glimpse Oli again, but they had lowered the house lights on his side of the runway even more to bring further attention to the colors of the new fabrics flitting down on the models, I guessed.

  I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him. I couldn’t hold it anymore and shivered all over. I heard the faintest laugh titter across the catwalk and blushed from head to toe.

  Outside of the show, it was impossible to get a taxi. I sat on a stone hedge outside the building and decided to wait for the crowd to thin out. Georgiana had offered me a ride, but we were going in opposite directions and I knew she would be late to her next show if she accommodated me.

  “I’ll see you tonight, then, darling. Seven?”

  “Seven,” I confirmed, kissing her cheek.

  “Bye, love.”

  “Bye, babe.”

  I tried hard not to watch the crowds, tried hard not to search for Oliver’s head, tried not to think of him in his suit, and clean shoes, with his perfect teeth, and crooked smile. I tried not to imagine his hand on Jasmine’s knee, tried not to think of my knee there instead.

  “Pen,” I heard to my right. I jumped.

  “Oliver!” I gasped.

  “Did I scare you?” he asked.

  “A-a little,” I admitted, standing up.

  I heard a rip when I did and stopped still. Oliver’s mouth dropped open.

  “Of course,” I told the sky. I turned around at an uncomfortable angle and surveyed the damage. I had a long tear running down my right butt cheek and back-upper thigh. “Thank God I wore boy shorts under this!” I turned back around and faced a red-faced Oli, his hand at his mouth to hide his laugh. “You probably love this,” I told him, fed up.

  “I do not!” He laughed openly.

  “Now I have to go home and change. I was supposed to go to that stupid luncheon at Preston’s. I’ll never get a taxi there and back in time.”

  “I’m headed there now. Why don’t I take you to wherever you’re staying and then to the luncheon?”

  My throat went dry. “You’re headed to Preston’s?”

  “That’s what I said, Pen.”

  My heart raced. “It would be sort of inconvenient. I live on the outskirts.”

  Oliver looked shocked. “You still live in London?” he asked.

  My brows pinched in confusion. “You didn’t know?”

  “I thought you’d gone back to Dallas. I thought you were only here for fashion week.”

  I swallowed. “No,” I explained, “I never left London.”

  He looked like I’d socked him in the stomach. “You’ve been in this bloody town this whole time?”

  I nodded.

  He shook his head as if to clear it. “Right. Well, then we should hurry.”

  Adrenaline pumped through my veins at an alarming rate. “Okay, thank you.”

  “Just let me fetch Jasmine.”

  “Of course,” I answered calmly but secretly died inside.

  He left and I watched him drag Jasmine away from a conversation with a group of people. I watched him explain what was going on as they walked. She stopped and folded her arms.

  “Oh shit,” I whispered, not wanting to be the cause of a fight.

  He placed a hand on her forearm and she relaxed, making me feel sick again, then they both came waltzing my direction like bloody Will and Kate, but swapped hair colors.

  “I’m so sorry,” I told Jasmine as she approached.

  “It’s fine,” she told me, a saccharine smile on her lovely face.

  She made me feel smaller than I’d ever felt in my entire life.

  “This way,” Oliver said, gesturing toward the valet.

  We walked in silence save for a couple of whistles my direction that made me want to crawl beneath a bench. I pressed my Zoe bag against the gigantic hole in my jumper, but it still wasn’t large enough. Needless to say, it was awkward beyond belief. I saw a taxi driving toward us and I almost shot my hand out for it. Then I thought of having to face them at Preston’s. I’d reached my limit in acting like a jackass around them that day and decided to commit to the ride.

  I waited as Oliver opened the door for Jasmine and she sat. He opened my door for me and I slid in sideways so I wouldn’t flash him through my rip. Once Oliver was in, he started the engine and he pulled out, heading for the garage’s exit.

  “Where to, Pen?” he asked. The way he said my nickname made my heart jump into my throat.

  “Uh, other side of the Thames,” I told him then heard Jasmine sigh like she was exasperated. Oh my God, this is awful. I gave him the address and he plugged it into his navigation system.

  It was quiet for a while until Oliver broke the silence. “Are you renting?” he asked conversationally.

  “No,” I told them, “I bought. Real estate in London can be a great investment.”

  “It is,” he agreed. I couldn’t read his facial expression but wished I could. Jasmine stayed quiet.

  Somebody kill me.

  “If you’ve bought then you must plan on staying awhile,” he commented.

  “Not sure, really. I didn’t really have a plan, to be honest. I just knew I wanted to stay in London for the time being and bought.”

  He nodded and obeyed the navigation by hooking a left, heading toward Vauxhall Bridge.

  “What do you do?” Jasmine asked me.

  “I run a vlog,” I told her.

  “What kind?” she asked.

  “Hair, makeup, fashion. I started off reviewing products, and my audience grew. As they grew, so did my range. I adapt as I go.”

  “Interesting,” she said.

  “She works with FACE London,” Oliver added, shocking me. “Have you not seen their new campaign? She’s their new face.”

  “Where would I have seen it?” Jasmine asked, sounding bored.

  “Sides of buses, maybe? She’s got a billboard in Oxford Square,” he answered.

  “You do?” Jasmine asked, perking up a bit.

  “Uh, yeah, it’s just for fashion week, though.”

  Oh my God, Oliver’s seen me!

  “Well, good on you,” Jasmine offered cordially, turning around. Her facial expression wasn’t as generous as her message. It made her look ugly somehow and brought her down closer to my level.

  Jasmine began to face the front again but her eyes shot wide when she saw my bag setting on the seat next to me. “Is that a Zoe bag?” she asked, not bothering to hide her disbelief.

  “Uh, yeah,” I answered, not sure what else to say.

  Jasmine whipped her head toward Oliver. “You said your queue was too long, that I had to wait like the rest, that it wouldn’t be right otherwise, but you made one for her?”

  “Jasmine,” Oliver tried to soothe. It was the wrong thing to say. I knew it, but he didn’t.

  “What the hell, Oliver?” Jasmine shouted. Bingo. “What exactly is this girl to you?”

  I sank into my seat.

  “She’s Graham’s ex-girlfriend,” he explained, which meant she’d met Graham. I caught his eyes in the rearview. “She helped me market the bag, instructed me how to get it out here. It worked. I was repaying her the favor by giving her the original.”

  “T
he original!” Jasmine yelled. “You told me that one was off limits even to your girlfriend.”

  Girlfriend! Oh my God. What a cluster.

  While I debated on whether or not to say anything, Oliver said, “It was. It was meant for her. It was a gift for her long before I met you.”

  I knew what he meant by that. He was referring to the fact that he’d tried to give it to me, but I’d refused, but Jasmine took that in an entirely different way.

  “Let me out of the car,” she insisted, grasping her door handle.

  “Wait, wait!” I called out. I made a move to touch her shoulder but thought better of it. “I promise this doesn’t mean anything! He gave it to me once and I was too uncomfortable to take it. I really did help him with the release.”

  Jasmine sat back and looked at me. “Did you date?” she asked.

  “No,” I insisted. Not a total lie.

  “Oliver?” Jasmine asked.

  “We were friends. Now we are merely acquaintances,” he explained.

  Jasmine calmed but the statement wounded me, deflated me.

  “You have arrived at your destination,” the navigation system announced.

  I scrambled for the door and threw it open. “Thank you for the ride. Please, go on ahead to Preston’s. No need to wait. I’ll catch a taxi.”

  I ran up to the main door of the converted house my flat was in. I stuck in my key. I turned to wave but they both sat there staring at me. I remembered my torn outfit and turned beet red. I laid my bag against the tear and turned the key.

  Oliver looked from Jasmine to me then back at Jasmine then pulled away. I knocked on Claire’s door. When she answered, I turned around to show her what happened.

  “Bloody hell!”

  “I know,” I whined.

  “Come on then,” she said, dragging me by my hand up to my flat.

  My eyes teared up. “He was there, Claire.”

  Claire stopped on her step briefly before continuing. “Did he see this little fiasco?” she asked, gesturing with a finger.

  “Front and center.”