Wardrobe Malfunction(16)

A handsome, super-hot, mean jerk.

I stop in Starbucks on the way to the studio and grab a caramel latte, needing some caffeine before I speak to Alex. Then, I make the call.

“Alex Larson speaking.”

“Hi, Alex. It’s Charly. From wardrobe.”

“Oh, hey. It’s my new favorite girl, Pins.” He chuckles.

Pins?

Ugh.

That’s what Vaughn called me right before I flipped him the bird yesterday. Shit, I forgot I had done that as well.

“Yeah, it’s, uh, me.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Well…” I bite my lip. “I still need to fit those clothes for Vaughn—not the pants,” I’m quick to say. “Just shirts, a few vests, and some suit jackets.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Would he be able to come in for a fitting today, as they’re needed for shots tomorrow?”

“He’s got meetings all morning, and then he’s running lines all afternoon.”

“Oh.” Shit.

“Does he not have any space at all to fit me in? I’ll only need thirty minutes, max. I can come to him, wherever, to save him the journey.”

“Okay, come to the hotel at six p.m. You remember his suite number?”

“Yes.” Not forgetting that anytime soon. “Thanks, Alex. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anytime.”

“Alex…will he be okay with me coming to fit him?”

He laughs. “Guess we’ll see when you get here. See you later, Pins.”

He hangs up, and I stare down at the phone, feeling a little sick.

Oh well, I don’t have any other choice than to go. I have a job to do. I’ll just apologize—again—for yelling at him, calling him an asshole and a jerk, and giving him the middle finger. I won’t let him rile me up. And I definitely won’t be taking him any more I’m-sorry gifts; that’s for sure.





Charly

Six p.m. sharp, I’m standing outside Vaughn’s hotel room with his clothes hanging over my arm in a garment bag, my sewing case in my hand.

I’m wearing my dark blue distressed skinny jeans, an oversized beige sweater that falls off the shoulder, and my leopard-print Christian Louboutins that I found in a secondhand charity shop in SoHo. I swear, I nearly cried with happiness that day; they were practically brand-new. I like to think they belonged to a celebrity who was clearing out her last-season items. I now make it a point to visit that charity shop every chance I get. Hanging from my shoulder is my knock off Gucci Dionysus GG Supreme mini bag. I love her. If only she were real. My hair is tied back in a sleek ponytail. My eye makeup is light. My lips are painted red.

I look good. I feel good.

I push my shoulder back, take a deep breath, fix a smile on my face, and knock on the door.

You can do this, Charly. Yesterday was yesterday. Today is a new day.

I hear footsteps approaching the door, and it swings open, revealing someone who’s not Vaughn.

Oh.

Oddly, I feel a flash of disappointment. I wanted to make an impression. A good impression.

The guy looks to be around my age or a little older. With close-cropped brown hair, he has on a pair of black-framed glasses, and he’s wearing jeans, a navy-blue shirt, and a pair of Vans.

“Hi.” I smile wide. “I’m Charly. I’m here to fit Mr. West—I mean, do a fitting for Mr. West. I’m from the studio. I work in wardrobe. I’m a wardrobe assistant.”

For fuck’s sake, Charly.

I do a mental eye roll at myself.

He smiles. “Hey, Charly. I’m Alex. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Oh, it’s Alex. Duh.

“Good to meet you, too, after speaking to you twice on the phone.” I laugh lightly.

“Here, let me help you.”

He gestures to the garment bag, so I hand it to him. He seems nice. Much nicer than his boss.

“Come in,” he says.

I walk past him and into Vaughn’s suite. Then, I hang near the door before following him over to the dining table on the other side of the room—where I gave Vaughn his cock warmer last night.

Dear God.

“Did you get a cab over with this stuff?” Alex asks, putting the clothes down on the dining table.

“I did.” I put my sewing kit and handbag next to the clothes on the table.

“How much was it?”

“Oh, like ten bucks.”

He gets his wallet from his pocket and pulls up a ten-dollar bill.

“No, it’s fine.” I wave him off. “It’s my fault I had to come over here to finish the fit.”

“You sure?” He checks before putting the bill away.

“I’m sure.” I smile.

“Well, I’ll have Vaughn’s driver take you home when you’re done. No need to get a cab back.”

Speaking of Vaughn…

I glance around for him.

“Vaughn’s just in the shower. He’ll be out in a few. Can I get you a drink?”

“A water would be great. Thanks.”

He goes over to a mini fridge and gets out a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” I say when he hands it to me. “So, was Mr. West okay about me coming to do the fitting?”