Who Wants to Marry A Billionaire?(12)
Nina stared at her plate; her appetite had vanished. Rita looked at her sympathetically, “How do you stand working for that woman?” Nina shrugged, “Mostly she leaves me alone, but this thing with Daniel—I have the feeling that it’s all her idea, so she feels responsible for making sure the scheme works. If it fails, I don’t know, maybe it’s all on her.”
Nina’s cell phone rang, and she dug it out of her purse. The name on the caller ID was becoming a familiar sight: DD, Daniel DeVere. She let out a big sigh, “It’s Daniel, I have to take this.”
Rita wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I’ve got to get to class anyway, I’ll just jump on the train. Love ya sis.” Rita gave Nina a little squeeze and then headed off toward the “T,” Boston’s subway.
“Hello…yes, I know it’s you.” She tried to joke, “There’s this thing called caller ID….” Nina listened, “Yeah, I think we need to talk too. Do you want me to come to the office?
No, I’m on Newbury Street, I’ve been shopping…change into something I just bought and meet you where? On Tremont St.? Okay.”
In the old days, Nina would have changed in a car, but there was no way that was happening in the Porsche. The easiest thing would be to go back to La Bella and ask to use their dressing room. Considering how much she’d purchased, she couldn’t imagine they’d say no. She dug through the bags, chose the outfit that she thought she would feel most like herself in, and went back to La Bella.
The clerk greeted her at the door, “Did you forget something?”
Nina held up the bag, “I just got a call to meet someone for dinner, and I don’t have time to go home and change. Could I use the dressing room?”
“Of course, make yourself at home. I have a steamer if we need to get out any wrinkles.”
A few minutes later Nina emerged. She was wearing electric blue, stretch denim jeans cuffed over short black leather boots with three inch heels, a dark blue silk blouse with the collar popped, and a lightweight black suede jacket that felt like butter.
“You look fabulous!” The clerk smiled, “But let me finish you off.” She handed Nina a skinny, dark blue, leather belt. As Nina threaded the belt through the loops on her pants, the clerk grabbed a black and white, patterned silk scarf and a cerulean crocodile bag. “No worries— it's leather made to look like crocodile.” She tied the scarf around Nina’s neck and spun her around to look in the mirror. “All you need is a dab of fresh lipstick, and you are going to knock somebody’s socks off.”
It was Mark Twain who said, “clothes make the man,” Nina remembered, but, apparently they also made the woman. She stood blinking at the stranger who stared back at her from the mirror as she wordlessly handed Daniel’s credit card back to the clerk. Emerging from her daze, she dumped the contents of her dilapidated handbag into the new, fashionable one and tossed her old bag in the garbage can. Retrieving her lipstick, she accented her full lips with a bit of subtle color.
The clerk scrunched up her mouth studying Nina. “With this outfit—the boots, the jacket—you really should let that gorgeous hair of yours go wild. You know, you have this exotic flair that you need to play up.” She slipped the combs out of Nina’s hair. “Bend over and fluff it up from underneath.”
Nina obeyed and when she straightened up, her hair had the look of a runway model, a lush, wavy mass framing her face. “Wow, you’re really good at this!”
The clerk smiled modestly, “Oh I study at the School of Fashion and Design.”
“What’s your name? I’m Nina, by the way.”
“Kennedy. Nice to meet you Nina.”
“Kennedy, how would you like a temporary, part-time job?” Daniel had mentioned something about a stylist, Nina thought, and Elsa didn’t have to get involved with the choice if she made a preemptive strike.
“Job? Doing what?”
“I need a stylist, well, my whole family needs a stylist to get through these upcoming pre-nuptial events.”
“That sounds kind of fun, plus school is going to be finished for the semester next week so I’ll have extra time. Who are you marrying anyway?” Kennedy absently tapped the Amex on the counter by the cash register.
Nina sighed. “Look at the name on the card in your hand. I guess you were assuming earlier that I was trustworthy.”
Kennedy scrutinized the credit card, and then looked at Nina with wide eyes, “This is a joke right? Like I’m going to be punked by a camera crew any minute because I think I’m getting a job with the DeVeres?”
Slowly shaking her head back and forth, Nina looked at Kennedy with utmost seriousness. “No joke. I need someone with fashion sense, and I need allies. I need someone to play for Team Nina Alves.”
Kennedy handed the card back to Nina with a conspiratorial smile, “Okay, Nina Alves, I’m in.”
Chapter Nine
Nina rumbled up in the Porsche to the front of the posh restaurant on Tremont where Daniel had asked her to meet him. The valets took one look at the car, and Nina thought a fistfight was going to break out between the three of them as they all rushed to open her car door.
Emerging from the car with the help of the winning valet, Nina was thankful she was wearing jeans. And now she truly couldn’t understand why all those socialites and Hollywood starlets went out on the town in dresses without underwear. Several paparazzi, seeing the Carrera GT, immediately ran to shoot whoever was getting out of the car, before they even knew the identity of the driver.