CHAPTER THREE
Veronica had Paris to think about which made her so excited she could do anything that didn't involve packing, or thinking about her upcoming trip, which excluded eating, sleeping, watching television, sitting still or occupying her mind productively. The weekend seemed to tick by slowly, and she wished she was already there sightseeing. If she had thought about it, she could have asked Marcus to send her early to spend time there, but instead she was on the Monday morning flight which left at nine.
Veronica got to the airport early, checked her two bags, and carried nothing but her purse, two magazines, and a bag of pretzels. She checked in and excitedly read her magazine, but her mind wasn't into it. She couldn't stop thinking about Paris. And the icing on the cake was Lester had booked her reservation in a first class seat. That explained why she had perm-a-grin on her face and her eyes weren't moving when she stared at her magazine. She was thinking of everything she wanted to do in Paris, including walk around until her feet fell off after the fashion show.
"Now boarding first class." The gate agent said into the microphone, and Veronica bounced up from her chair. She hoped she had heard the agent right, because otherwise she would have looked very stupid. She grabbed her things, and then to her relief boarded the airplane easily. The seat was very large, and leaned back far enough that it laid flat. There was only one on each side of the aisle. Veronica had never been in such a nice plane. She was served a diet soda while everyone else boarded, but Veronica was in a different compartment and people didn't parade past her as they got to their seats. In fact it was a very private section. It would be an enjoyable relaxing trip to Paris, and she was excited to get going.
The lack of sleep the night before started to make her drowsy. She knew when she woke up that four hours wasn't going to be enough to function, and Veronica wasn't even sure she slept that much. She figured she would need a nap, but not this soon. It was the comfy seats that wrapped around her that seemed to speed up her fatigue. Before a half hour had passed, Veronica decided to lay back, and take a nap. She was quickly covered with a blanket and offered a visor for her eyes, slippers, ear plugs and a pillow. The flight attendant took her half finished drink, and left her to sleep. She was exhausted. Veronica put on the visor, and laid on the pillow and quickly dozed off. She woke up only a few times when she heard noise, but other than that she slept well.
Veronica woke up, and opened her eyes. It was black and for a moment she forgot she was on a plane and had a visor on. She slowly sat up, pulled the eyeshade off, and combed her fingers through her hair, and then took her last piece of gum from her purse and began to chew on it. A moment later a flight attendant rushed up to her. "You slept through lunch. Are you hungry? Crab salad was served, but dinner will be in an hour if you want to wait for that. It's steak and lobster tail."
"Oh, I'll wait." Veronica said groggily.
"Would you like something to drink?" The attendant asked.
"Um. A diet soda, please." Veronica said. She gave back the blanket, pillow, and held onto everything else because the attendant said she could keep them. After that she left saying she would be right back with her drink.
"Oh, Mr. Berks You're back from stretching your legs. Can I get you anything?" The attendant asked.
Veronica turned around when hearing her voice, but a moment later sunk down into her chair in a panic. She couldn't believe her luck. She tore open her magazine and buried her nose in it. Of all the people who could be on the plane! It was none other, then the man with the broken nose. The memory of it made her start to shake again. To make matters worse, he had a deep purple bruise under his right eye. She heard him say that he was fine, and then a moment later he sat down in the vacant chair next to hers across the walkway. She turned in her seat away from him, hoping he had yet to recognize her. This was going to be torture. Her lips moved as she tried to count exactly how many more hours she was trapped on the airplane with him. Anything over ten minutes was going to be insufferable, and she had hours to go!
Her plan was working, to avoid his eye. He had yet to say a word to her. She turned to look out the window "fascinated" and didn't budge even remotely in his direction for the next hour. "Miss Mitchell, would you like something to drink with dinner?"
"Water." She said without looking in the direction of the flight attendant. It was rude and she knew it, but thankfully the attendant didn't seem to mind. Veronica said she appreciated it, and then picked up a magazine when she was alone. If she held it just right she could eat while pretending to read, and hide her face. She decided it was best to start "reading" now, so it didn't look quite so bazaar by dinner.
"Mr. Berks would you like anything to drink with your dinner?" The flight attendant asked.
"Vodka martini with three olives." He said. "And four Ibuprofen." Veronica cringed. He was still in pain.
The attendant continued down the small aisle. Veronica quickly forgot she was hiding and soon found she was merely reading articles while flipping through pages. Every once and a while she would mark up pages to jot down notes on shoes she saw. She liked to critique other designs. It gave her a morbid sense of accomplishment that she could think of something better. And had been a bad habit since college. By the time her dinner came with her tall glass of water, she eagerly put down her magazine and began to eat.
Veronica probably had the worst diet. She rarely touched a vegetable, and only ate cold fruit every once and a while. Unless it was disguised in something she ate like pasta, or seafood, she never touched the stuff. Usually she didn't eat red meat either, but the steak was exceptionally good. She polished off both the lobster and the steak before sipping down her water while she waited for the plate to be taken.
"Would you like earphones for the in flight movie? You have a small movie player to watch something else if you wish. There is a pamphlet of movies . . ." the flight attendant said pulling it out and handed it to her.
"Oh, um. It's okay. I'll pass." She said declining. She then pulled out some paper from her purse thinking it would be good to try to brainstorm ideas for shoe designs. One came to her two minutes later and after a rhythmic tapping of her pencil. She began to draw a man's shoe. She pictured it as a black leather shoe for a suit with a long leather tongue which folded over and had a thin long clip that stretched down the length of the shoes in exchange of laces, and held the tongue in place. She was almost done drawing it when people all around her started to turn off their lights. That was when Veronica began to think she should stop and go to sleep just out of courtesy.
"You know—I know exactly what pant suit I would wear those shoes with." He said. Veronica jumped. She grabbed her chest and looked right at him. The man with the swollen black and blue eye was leaning over and looking at her paper. "I hope you'll make that." He said and sat back in his chair.
"Oh, maybe." She said, but truly she had every intention of showing them to Marcus.
"I saw you a few days go. I'm not sure if your remember, but I do. You gave me this." He said with a smile and pointed to his eye.
"I won't forget that for as long as I live." She said in a whisper and looked around. She flushed from embarrassment. "I'm still sorry about that, and still mortified."
"I can tell. You've been avoiding looking at me." He smiled wider. She gulped, and turned away. That was the worst thing he could have said to make her truly horrified. She felt suddenly ashamed for being so rude. She should have been the one to ask him how he was doing. She was a jerk. He laughed under his breath. "So what are you going to Paris for? The fashion show? I've never seen you at one of them before."
"Yeah. I am going. It's sort of a favor for my boss. Or I was asked to come anyway. I'm supposed to see the latest fashion, so I can pick out the trendiest outfits when they come to my desk." She added, "It's my boss's idea of getting me to cut down on the amount of work he needs to do. And it's my idea of a mistake. He'll see soon enough that I'm only good at one thing—making shoes."
"I don't think it's a mistake at all. Marcus Yutan (your boss) knows exactly what he's doing sending you to this fashion show. I bet he's going to hire you as his protégé within a year." He added, "That is if he hasn't already, but it sounds to me he already has." Veronica looked at him curiously, and then his black and blue eye. He smiled. "Has he?"
"Yes. But I made him promise me if I completely debacle the job I could continue with my old one." She added, "I hope it's just temporary." She laughed.
"No, you'll be great!" He said confidently.
"I don't have a desire to do what he's asking me to do. All I really want to do is keep making my shoes. I love shoes. They are a passion. I myself, have about three hundred pairs in my closet." She said.
"Me too. I mean I have about three hundred pairs, but I'll admit I am more passionate about clothes." He said with a smile. "I still think you'd be perfect for the job. You have great taste, and that is half of what counts. But if you're not wanting . . ."
"Oh, no. My boss is given clothes from other designers. If it's clothes for women he gives them to me. I just wear what I like, but trust me, I couldn't pick this out from a drawing and call it Marcus's perfect blouse," she said while pulling on her white button up top as she spoke of it. "Before I started working for Marcus I would buy anything that fit not caring if I even matched." She laughed. "Trust me I'm much better off in my windowless office drawing pictures of shoes."
He smiled. "I was no different. I used to wear nothing but jeans and white t-shirts." He added, "And now I wear nothing but suits. It's a faze. Maybe it will go away. Maybe it won't. We'll see."
"Well, that isn't a true statement. You can't always wear suits. What do you wear swimming?" She asked. He smiled so mischievously that she blushed. "Never mind." She felt her face go pink. She turned and sipped her water and then went back to her drawing.
"Will you make me that pair of shoes?" He asked her. She turned back around and stared at him in surprise. She blinked. "I want those shoes." He said. She looked at him a second longer, then to her drawing and then back to him. She must have looked at him like she thought he was crazy because he said, "It could be payback for breaking my nose. I had to go get it popped back into place by the way." He grinned.
"You're not serious!" She said miserably.
"No. I am. I really had to go to the doctor for my nose, and I really do want you to make me that pair of shoes. One of a kind. Just for me." He dug into his gray jacket which was draped over the arm of his chair. He then pulled out a business card and handed it to her. "Why don't you come by my work, and you can tell me everything you need to make it happen. Do you make the first prototype yourself? I admit I don't know very much about making shoes."
"Yes, I always make the first pair. It lets me learn from my mistakes, and with each drawing I can see what the leather (or what every I want it made of) will realistically look like folded, or . . ." She stopped talking. No doubt she was boring him. Not even Kimmy would let her drone on very long without intentionally crossing her eyes to show she was bored to tears. "Anyway, yes. I make them."
"Even better! Will you make those shoes one of a kind for me? What were you going to make them in, black leather?" He asked.
She nodded, and as the idea came to her she went on to say, "I was thinking Reindeer leather cured in baths of rye, oat flour and yeast, hand-finished and soaked in vinegar and steel wool. I made my father a pair of shoes with that leather last Christmas. I still have some at home. I really love the texture."
"Perfect! I'll look for clips like that." He said.
"I'll have to have the clips made." She said. "I'm pretty exact."
"Well then they will really be one of a kind." He smiled. "Come by my work next Monday. We'll get everything sorted out you need to get started. I'll pay for everything. But you have to make them."
"Sorry, but I haven't said I would yet." She said. "I think I would rather buy an expensive William Berks shirt. I don't have time to make a pair shoes on the side! Especially if my boss just asked me to take on even more work. I just don't have time. It would take me months."
"I can wait! I'm a patient man." He said then grabbed the paper from off her tray. "I'll keep this." He quickly put it in a briefcase above him in the storage compartment. He sat down and got comfortable in his chair once again.
"How about I buy you a William Berks shirt as a replacement." She said while staring at the closed compartment above him where her sketch was. She then looked at him shocked he would just take it from her. His black and blue eye stared at her. Crap! She was obligated.
"I have enough of those. I want a one of a kind pair of Veronica Mitchell shoes." He said.
"My shoes aren't called Veronica Mitchell shoes. Their Yutan VM shoes." She corrected him. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to get to it for a while. You honestly don't care?" He was asking her to spend a week on a pair of shoes. It would take at least two or three weekends to get it done, and that was if she wasn't overworked and tried. The idea of working all weekend wasn't appealing either. She would want at least one day off a week, and that meant it would take at least two months to get it done.
"I'm patient." He said again. "But I could talk with Marcus about it. I'm sure I can arrange for time off for you to make me a pair of shoes."
Veronica eyed him skeptically. "He doesn't even listen to his wife. Trust me you won't be able to ask him for time off for me. I haven't had a vacation in over a year and a half. And I've only had one in the four almost five years I've been there." She laughed. "Good luck with that. And in the mean time, I'll just make your shoes on the side."
"We're friends. Well, competition really. But I'm sure he would give you a week off to make me a pair of shoes." He leaned forward. "But if he doesn't give you time off, you should come work for me. I would let you keep to you dream of only making shoes. You shouldn't do anything beyond what you love. It's a waste of your time, if it's not what your wanting."
"I love my work. I don't need lengthy vacations. But don't worry I'll make you the shoes. It's the least I can do." Veronica said with another glance at his eye, and as she did, she came to the conclusion it wouldn't be that bad. It would only be three long weekends. After all, she did break his nose. She looked to his black eye, and flushed pink.
"It looks worse than it really is." He said. "So how long are you in Paris?"
"Until Thursday." She said.
"Thursday? The fashion show is Wednesday. That is quite the long trip to make and not even stay one weekend. Are you even planning on seeing the Eifel Tower?" He asked.
"Oh, I'll walk around Paris all night after the show." She said.
"You won't have time. The after party on Wednesday night lasts until at least three in the morning. Then the after, after party goes on until early Thursday morning. It's practically mandatory to be there." He added, "Well, if you're serious about getting your name out there, you'll need to make relationships. The most important part of my job is making relationships. It will be the most important part of your job too, and the sooner you learn that, the quicker you'll rise. You should go. Have to really."
"Uhg. I wish you didn't tell me that." She sighed, "I really wanted to sightsee, and now I can't or I'll feel guilty about not representing Marcus Yutan . . ."
"Just change your ticket. It doesn't cost a thing to change a first class ticket." He added, "Better yet, I'll have my assistant do it. You call Marcus Yutan and tell him your staying until the Saturday flight, and will be back Monday. I can show you around Paris after the fashion show, and after I sleep on Thursday. We can spend all day Friday touring. I speak fluent French and I've been there a million times. I'll be a perfect guide and gentleman. Promise." He paused, "What do you say?"
"Um." She smiled, but flushed embarrassed. "It's a good idea, but I don't think I will. Thank you though." She said no, but she liked the idea of changing her ticket for free and staying a little longer. Marcus no doubt wouldn't mind her staying one business day longer, and she could sight see Thursday with little sleep and all day Friday before leaving on the weekend. It would be fun. And she didn't know the last time she would have another vacation. Plus she had never been outside New York. She had to do it!
"That is cute. You're shy." He smiled. "And blushing. What's got you pink?"
"I'm not blushing," she lied. "I just don't think I'll go sightseeing with you. I . . . I don't know you."
"Of course you don't know me—yet. But a day in Paris would fix that." He said with a shrug.
"I can't." She said. "Sorry."
"No. Don't be. I've seen it all. It's me who is sorry. You're going to miss out." He added, "I could have my assistant take you. He speaks French, not as well as me, but nevertheless he could show you around."
"No. I appreciate it, but I don't know him either." She said and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Thank you though."
He smiled. "I see. So your shy, and coy. That is even more cute." He paused, "Do you drink?"
"Not often. Once or twice a month. I guess it depends on the mood I might drink more often. I have a few when I go out dancing or to bars, but who doesn't." She said.
"Smoke?" He asked.
She laughed. "No." She said and shook her head.
"Do you boat?" He asked.
"Never have." She paused, "Why?"
"Never!" He looked shocked. "Do you jog marathons, bike ride, swim, anything like that?" He asked.
"I swim sometimes. In the summer I walk in the park. I ice skate in the winter. I guess I just have a good metabolism, because I have a terrible diet, but have always had this string bean skinny body without trying. That is my excuse for not working out, anyway. Why?" She asked.
"Are you a dog or cat person?" He asked.
"A cat person. You?" She asked and looked at him with a quizzical brow.
"I hate dogs. They stink." He said. "But I like cats fine." He then asked, "What kind of music do you listen to?"
"Typically anything but rap." She said. "Why?"
"I hate rap myself." He sat back in his seat. "Huh." He smiled. "Well, it's nice meeting you, Veronica. I am going to try to sleep. So have a good night." He got the attention of a flight attendant and asked for a blanket, visor, slippers and two pillows. "Goodnight." He said then got comfortable, turned off his light, pulled on the visor, and then laid down. Veronica watched him. That was about the strangest conversation she had ever had. Veronica sat back in her chair a little confused about the odd conversation ending the way it had. The only word that came to mind was interesting.
His visor was pulled over his eyes so she couldn't see his bruise. She looked at his black thick wavy hair, and his thick arms. He obviously worked out, and much more than her. That was probably why he asked if she ran marathons, but what sane person did? The last time she ran on a treadmill she was in high school. Running was painful. She preferred to swim, but that was a once and a blue moon event.
She laid down and thought about their conversation, all the while catching glimpses of him. He definitely was interesting to talk to. Pity he stopped. She had no idea what he was thinking, which was half the intrigue. That was the second time he left her in the midst of a conversation. She couldn't figure him out; he kept surprising her. Interesting!