She nods once again, but this time she smiles. “I can do that.”
“But do you want to do that?”
Her smile grows bigger. “I do.”
“Okay then. Let’s go inside and have breakfast.”
“All right, but for the record,” she says in a serious tone. “Prada…it’s always Prada. That’s not even up for debate.”
Fifteen
Celeste
Shutting down my laptop, I press my finger against my phone screen for the millionth time to check and see if Jase has texted me back to confirm our dinner plans for tonight. I haven’t seen him since Sunday. I ended up having to take the red-eye to California to handle some modeling issues for the shoot for my upcoming winter line. Margie was over there handling it, but when she called to let me know several of my models appeared to be on drugs, I knew I had to fly out and handle it myself.
And I’m glad I did. After threatening to have them drug tested, they admitted to using. I fired them on the spot, canceling their contract, and told them if they ever wanted to model again in this industry, they would need to go to rehab. From there, I had to find new models available last minute and get all the clothes resized and fitted. It was an utter disaster, but once it was all handled, the shoot turned out beautiful—thanks to Felix, who handled it all like the pro he is.
It’s now Thursday, and I’m back at home, and aside from a few texts, Jase and I have barely spoken. I told him all that was going on, but I know that most people can’t really understand what it’s like to run a business, especially one as time-consuming and demanding as mine. I should hire more people, delegate more, but it’s my baby, and for so long it’s all I’ve had. But now, as I check my phone for the millionth and one time, I’m wishing I did more delegating, so I wouldn’t have had to go four days without seeing Jase.
My phone dings and I unlock it to check the message. It’s from Jase: I’m slammed at work
My gut twists and the insecurities that I wasn’t even aware I had flare up like a bad rash. Does he mean that or is he blowing me off? As I’m trying to think of how to respond, another text comes through: Sorry, I hit send by mistake. I’m slammed at work. Sky wasn’t feeling well, so Quinn had to bring her home. I miss you like crazy. Raincheck?
“What’s that smile for?” Margie asks, appearing out of thin air.
“Jase. I thought maybe he didn’t want to see me, but he’s just busy at work.”
“Something you can relate all too well to.” She winks.
“Yeah,” I agree, “and not everyone has an amazing assistant like you.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, an idea hits.
“Hey Margie, I’m going to head out. Can you lock up for me?”
“Absolutely.”
Snagging a cab, I give the driver the address to Forbidden Ink, and fifteen minutes later, we arrive. When I walk through the door, I find several people hanging out in the waiting area. Some are playing pool, others are sitting on the couch looking through the design books. But nobody is sitting at the front counter. Then the phone rings and I hear Jax yell, “Someone get that!”
Walking around the desk, I grab the cordless phone and answer, “Forbidden Ink. How may I help you?”
“Yeah, I need to schedule an appointment,” a guy says over the line. Sitting down on the stool behind the counter, I start searching for a calendar.
“Sure, just give me one minute, please.” I press the hold button so I can find this damn calendar. There has to be one here somewhere. You can’t possibly schedule four tattooists without having it written down somewhere.
“What are you doing behind the counter?” a deep voice asks, making me jump. I look up and into the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, which are a huge contrast to his harsh, spiky black hair and tatted up tanned skin. Based on his question, he must work here.
“I’m looking for your schedule. A guy is on the phone wanting to setup an appointment. Any chance you know where it is?”
“And you are?” he prompts. Shit! I didn’t introduce myself.
“I’m Celeste.” I extend my hand to shake his. “A friend of Jase’s.”
The guy looks me over then smirks. “Celeste, huh? The model, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Hopefully all good,” I joke, and he laughs.
“Yeah, definitely all good. I’m Gage.” He lets go of my hand. “Did Jase ask you to come in and help out?”
“Actually, he doesn’t know I’m here.” I shrug. “He canceled our plans and I figured he could use the help.” I chew on my bottom lip, hoping I haven’t crossed the line.