Chapter 11
Delivery
“Did you go on a Rodeo Drive robbery spree or something?” Nicolette said, her hands on her hips, eyeing the piles of boxes and paper bags in the living room. Normally, she would be irked at having to receive a delivery anytime before noon, the usual time she woke up, but she sounded more puzzled than annoyed.
“Oh my God, there must be some mistake,” Victoria said, coming out of her room, her eyes wide. She remembered fitting only about a dozen or so outfits. It looked like there may be about four times that number of clothes in boxes and shopping bags crowding her tiny apartment.
“Well, the delivery guy said they were for you,” said Nicolette, going through the shoeboxes. “Holy crap, these are next season’s Louboutins.”
“Looboo-what?” Victoria checked the shopping bags. “I was expecting some clothes, but not this many.” At her roommate’s raised eyebrow, she added, “My boss thought I didn’t have the proper clothes to be Benson’s tutor so he’s paying for these.”
“He bought you Jean Yu?” Nicolette held up a light pink silk thong. “This tiny thing costs about half a grand. Are you sure he didn’t hire you to be his mistress?”
“What?” Victoria grabbed the underwear and checked the tag. There was no price on it. But it felt like a light, gossamer dream in her hands. “Who pays half a grand for a pair of underpants?”
“Sebastian Chase, apparently.”
Victoria frowned. “I don’t think he actually picked these out. It must have been Deborah.”
“Who?”
“He called her a stylist. I don’t even know what a stylist is. She made me try out some of these outfits.”
“I don’t know who Deborah is, but I love her already. This military coat is gorgeous,” Nicolette said, holding up a knee-length, green pattern, dress-like coat against her front. “Although this really is more your style than mine.”
“That looks expensive,” Victoria said, doubtfully.
“It’s Alexander McQueen.” With a sigh, Nicolette draped it carefully on the back of the couch. “I’d say that set Sebastian back around three grand at least.”
“I take the bus, Nic.” Victoria wanted to plop down on the couch in frustration, except it was full of shopping bags. “I can’t wear a three-thousand-dollar coat on the bus.”
“Oh sweetie, I know,” Nicolette said. “A client gave me a huge yellow diamond ring once. I was, like, oh thanks babe, I’ll just keep it in the safe in the study.” She glanced around their small, humble apartment. “He had no idea I was being sarcastic. So I sold the ring and put the cash in the bank.” She was planning on retiring from the escort business when she turned 28, so she saved most of the money she made.
“Well, if it was a huge diamond, you must have gotten a lot for it.”
Nicolette snorted. “I got about half of what it cost originally. The diamond industry is a scam. Anyway,” she said. “My point is, rich people - really rich people - are completely clueless about these things. They don’t think about having to wear Marc Jacobs rain boots while running after the bus in rush hour because most of them have never ridden the bus.” She wrinkled her nose. “Actually, no one should think of wearing Marc Jacobs anything, that brand is crap. But you get my point.”
“Help me,” Victoria wailed. “I can’t wear my usual stuff, my boss is going to freak out if he sees me in poor people clothes again.”
“Go make coffee first.” Nicolette studied a white lace bra approvingly. “Then let’s figure this out.”
Victoria walked towards the corner of the room where the kitchen was, still slightly groggy from sleep. It all seemed surreal. Last night, she was on a non-date with a gorgeous man in a fancy restaurant, and today she was waking up to five-hundred-dollar underwear and a whole wardrobe - that cost only God knows how much - that had been delivered right to her home.
But Nicolette was right. Caffeine, and maybe some food, will help her get some perspective.
She made the coffee, and as it was brewing she checked the fridge. “You want some fried rice?” she called out. “We still have some of the Chinese from the other night.”
“Sure. Do we have milk?”
Victoria took off the cap of the milk bottle and sniffed. “Ough, no, it’s gone bad. Sorry.”
“I’ll pick some up tonight,” said Nicolette. “Do you want juice?”
“Sure, but I won’t be coming home tonight,” Victoria said. She popped the containers of fried rice and egg rolls in the microwave and turned it on. “I forgot to tell you, they asked me to stay over tonight.”
“They? You mean your boss?”
Victoria turned away so her roommate couldn’t see her blush. “Yeah. I got an early morning meeting with Benson’s homeroom teacher tomorrow morning, and he thought it would be easier for me to stay over so I can accompany Benson to school.”
“Hmmm. Sleeping in the same house as that hunky piece of male. Maybe I was wrong to be worried about your dating prospects.”
“How do you know he’s hunky?” Victoria said, laughing, then stopped, her face turning serious. “Hang on. He’s not a client, is he?”
“Nah. I Googled him. Always seen with a different woman every month, but never a serious girlfriend. Imagine, all those supermodels and actresses, and only you get to live with him.”
“I’m not living with him, silly.” Victoria took the plastic containers out of the microwave and plopped them on the dining table. “I’m staying over one night. Food’s ready.” She poured coffee in a mug and handed it to Nicolette.
“It’s a start.” Nicolette grinned at her mischievously before taking a sip of coffee. “Where will you be sleeping?”
“There are, like, two hundred rooms in his house. One of them, I guess.” Probably one close to Benson’s room, Victoria thought. Was she going to be his nanny, too? She didn’t remember Benson or Mrs. Sellers or Sebastian mention a nanny.
“Well, if he makes a move on you, at least you have gorgeous designer underwear now,” Nicolette said. “Speaking of which. You obviously don’t have to worry about whatever underwear you’re wearing on the bus. Unless you’re planning to flash people.”
“Got it. No flashing.” Victoria settled on a chair and took a bite of an egg roll. “Are there any clothes in there that won’t get me mugged?”
“Actually, there are a bunch of slacks here, and sensible tops. You can wear one of your ugly jackets over them.”
“My jackets are not ugly.” Victoria frowned. “Are they?”
“Oh, sweetie. They are, I just never had the heart to tell you. Now that you have other options, I can be honest and say you have terrible clothes. Well, you used to. You don’t now.” She let out a silent whistle as she pulled out a large dark blue purse out of a shopping bag. “I insist you take this gorgeous thing to work today. Don’t worry, if you’re taking the bus, people will think it’s a fake.”
“Okay. I’ll need an overnight bag, though.”
Nicolette looked through more bags. “Bingo. This ought to do it.” She held up an oversized black bag with a familiar logo on the snap.
Victoria looked horrified. “Is that Chanel?”
“Yup. Just carry it with the logo facing you when you leave the house.” Nicolette stared at the bag thoughtfully, then looked at Victoria. “Why don’t you just ask your boss for a car? He probably has a fleet of them.”
“I’m not asking my boss for a car. Who does that?” Victoria started on her fried rice, eating as quickly as she could. She asked for an early shift today to make up for leaving work early yesterday. “He’s letting me use one of his cars for when I need to drive Benson around, but I don’t think he’ll let me take it home. He seems fond of that one.”
“How would you know?”
“It’s the car he drove... me home in the other night.”
“What?”
“I had to wait up for him, and there were no buses so he drove me home. It’s no big deal.”
Nicolette raised an eyebrow.
“Really, it’s not.” Victoria put her dirty dishes in the sink. “He was just being nice.” Maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to tell her best friend that Sebastian also drove her home the night before.
“Hmmm. If you say so.” Nicolette winked at her. “Now hurry up so I can dress you and get back to bed. And I swear, if you get so much as a splash of coffee on that Birkin, I will kill you.”
“That what?” Victoria asked, puzzled.
Nicolette shook her head. “Never mind.”