Chapter Two – We Break the Dawn
Ooh, there's somethin' 'bout the skylight tonight. Somethin that lets me know everythin's gon' be alright. - Michelle Williams
Rosalie decided she would sleep over, so after grabbing her own juicy sweats from the drawer she claimed in Bella's room, the three ladies settled in for an intense, four hour What Not to Wear marathon.
With the help of half a dozen sushi rolls from Geisha, Bella's heart mended itself. String by string, it wove back together.
Rather then feeling like an empty tube of lip gloss - dry and used up – Bella's confidence started to come back. Slowly but surely.
"I have major good news," Alice squealed on the couch after placing her personal platter on their hard wood floor. She could not hold her good news in anymore, and she knew it would defiantly make Bella fell better.
"What?" Bella and Rosalie said in unison, giggling at Alice's excitement.
"GuesswhoscoredtwofrontaislepassesfortheCalvinKlineshow?" yelled bouncing up and down on the couch like a work out ball.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Bella and Rosalie screamed grabbing Alice in a tight hug.
"Ehmygosh…only celebrities get those seats!" exclaimed Bella. She was so astonished; it was like seeing Santa in front of the tree.
"I know, that's just how good I am," Alice said nonchalantly, wiping an imaginary fuzz ball from her shoulder.
The girls had decided earlier to plan a dinner together during the week knowing that Alice would be running around like a chicken with her head cut off to get all the models in order before the show.
Bella just had to complete her last paragraph and print out her article on Milan's Fashion Week for her editor and she was free for the night.
It would be her third cover article; all she had to do was finish it with a kick butt hook. But what was catchy enough to keep her readers addicted and excited for her next article?
But Pollini's identity needs more than symbols. It requires a recognizable style rooted in a meld of its history and a thrust forward to the future
Add period…save…print…
Grab out of printer…turn off Mac…
Finally done, Bella grabbed her black Fendi Spy off of the corner of her polished wooden desk.
"Good evening Miss Swan," Bella's butt kissing, eager to please intern said as she walked out of her office. In the beginning, Bella thought it was fun to send college students for Starbucks when she could just as easily get up and get it herself, but she got over that charade pretty fast.
"Hey Caitlin, the girls and I are going to that restaurant Nipote, so you can go home early if you want," Bella said. She felt bad keeping the poor girl so late some nights, she was only twenty.
"Oh, that's perfect actually. Its Ryan's birthday so we're throwing him a surprise….blah blah blah," Bella stopped paying attention after awhile. Caitlin was a sweet girl and a good writer, but boy could she talk.
After saying goodbye to her intern, Bella dropped off her article and waved down a taxi.
The fact that she was only twenty minutes away from food was a very good sign because she was starting to get that weird clammy, lightheadedness feeling in her body that happened when she forgot to eat. She had to watch fifteen videos of runway shows that were sent to her via e-mail for her article. It was just the price she paid for getting an overview report on the fashion week in another country on press before any of the other major papers were able to. Her commitment was why she moved up the rankings so quickly.
Bella pinch-tightened her silk gold Hermés scarf as she got into the scratched taxi. After closing the door, the garlic anchovy Brooklyn cheese pizza smell hit her in the face like a wrecking ball. Pulling her Chanel No. 19-scented hands to her noise for relief, Bella called out the intersection of the restaurant to the New York Mets baseball cap wearing driver.
Tapping her purple Tory Burch foot impatiently, Alice waited at the table for her friends to arrive. Why did she always have to be the punctual one?
It wasn't like she didn't have anywhere else to be. The show was as stress filled as it usually was.
Making sure the models were dependable enough, making sure the right model had the right pieces, correct fittings, lights, stage, music, and seating, not to mention dealing with Francisco Costa freaky mood swings…
Alice loved it more then her red Birkin, and that was sayin' somethin'.
Absorbed like a sponge in her thoughts, Alice didn't notice when Rosalie and Bella walked in.
"Hey girlies," She said as they sat down.
"Hey Al…you look a little tired," said Rosalie. "You okay?"
"Yeah I'm fi-ne," Alice said, not realizing she was letting out a yawn simultaneously. "It's just the show; Francisco's been driving me up a wall. He fired three models during their fittings. I almost chucked my cell at him."
"Are you sure, we can always order in and watch a movie," said Bella, concerned with the major purple bags that were forming under her friend's eyes due to lack of sleep.
"Yeah totally… anyway I heard the food here is supposes to be amazing, critics give it five stars!" Alice said as she glanced around the impressive high end looking restaurant.
The walls were a dark maple wood – the tables draped with white fabric and shinning silverware. With waiters dressed in matching black slacks and button downs, the restaurant had a scene of exclusiveness and prestige. Located in between 1st and 2nd Avenue, it was where the wealthy went to dine.
Bella was so relieved she finally got some food in her system. And some very good food at that-like the best she's ever had!
Every meal included five courses. Bella ordered the lobster consommé, poached halibut, the hanger steak, which was followed by the traditional digestive salad and the spiced red wine poached pears with Tahitian vanilla ice cream. The food was designed so gracefully around the plate - each small portion like a picture.
Not wanting to stuff anymore in her small frame, Bella placed her white cloth napkin next to her half eaten finished plate and sighed in contentment. She was such a foodie.
Picking up her glass wine glass to her glossed lips, Bella noticed a man walk towards their table.
He had thick bronze - colored hair that was gelled to rise above the smooth marble of his forehead. He was normal in height, probably five nine or ten. But it was when Bella looked into his light green eyes she was sucked in. They were the color of a jade gemstone. Sparkling - breathtakingly beautiful.
Thankfully, she snapped out of it and placed her glass back down when she felt a familiar vibration in the front pocket of her ultra dark wash citizen strait leg jeans because he was approaching their table.
He was dressed in a bleached white chefs jacked, cuffed over at the sleeves and dark wash jeans.
"Good evening ladies I'm Chef Masen. I hope your meal exceeded your expectations tonight." he said politely. His eyes traveled across their faces as he asked, landing on Bella's smiling face.
"It was wonderful," she said whole heartedly.
"Well, I'm very glad you have enjoyed yourself at my restaurant," he said still staring at Bella. The way he looked at her made Bella's hands sweaty.
Then he smiled a crooked smile that sent Bella's heart into a sprint-like after running five miles in Central Park with Rosalie, it wouldn't slow down.
Noticing her current state, Alice and Rosalie quickly intervened.
"Yes, thank you," Alice said looking from Bella to the chef and then back to Bella again – her head whipping around so fast she looked like a cartoon character, Rosalie had to hold back a giggle at Alice's suddenly jerky head.
They were still looking at each other smiling.
"Um…Well thank you for dinning at Nipote tonight and we would love to have you again," it was like the invitation was just for Bella. And with that he turned to asses the other guests in the restaurant.
When he turned, Bella got a very good look at the distressed back pockets of his dark washed jeans, they had to be Diesel.
Fake coughing to get her attention, Rosalie said "Ahhemmm, Crush x 10!!!"
"More like x 100!" squealed Alice.
"Pul-ease…I'm NOT crushing," Bella said defensively.
"Yeah you are B," Alice said knowingly. "I could tell the way you guys were looking at each other…your cheeks are even pink."
"Al, Rose…I'm, I'm not sure if I need that in my life…I'm not sure if I want it right now," Bella said suddenly serious. She had just gotten her life back together. The strings were threaded, stitched and knotted. She didn't want someone to come and walk into her life and rip them out from under her again. Bella wasn't sure how much she could take. "Anyway, leave me alone…what are we fifteen!"
"Fine, let's get the check," wined Rosalie. She was getting jiped out of her fun. "Someone over here needs sleep like Justin-Bobby needs a hair cut," Rosalie said pointing at Alice while she slid a piece of golden blond hair back into the bobby pins that were holding up her business styled swirled bun at the base of her neck. Alice had said she was fine, but Rosalie didn't like how much she killed herself over her job. She was working sixteen hour days, and that was more concerning then Fergie dying her hair brown.
Laughing at Rosalie's the Hills slam; the girls paid the check and grabbed their respective bags.
"B, Manolo or Jimmy," Alice called from the inside of her twenty feet walk-in closet. Not breaking her stare on the two pairs of six inch black heals in front of her. The back wall of the closet was a floor to ceiling shoe section. She had three built in departments: flats, heals, slides/wedges. Each organized by color, designer and style within that design. Alice had a specialized ladder made in order to reach the top compartments – Bella had a matching one.
The Blanik's design was gladiator strap like. The straps rapped high to her ankle like a web. Small dark jeweled pieces nestled into the top straps that made the shoe slightly sparkle with the right light.
The Choo had one simple strap that went over the toe and a flirty black ribbon that tied just above the ankle.
Both of the beautiful shoes could be worn with her black one shoulder Calvin Kline mini. Cinched in at her petit waist, Alice's dress hit her mid-thigh. The silhouette was just high enough on her chest to insure privacy from all the freakishly tall models.
"Manolo, always Manolo," Bella shouted from her own closet. They were both getting ready for the show. Alice had been at the hall the whole day; she had just gone home to change.
Alice needed a quick second opinion. Running out of her closet, Alice grabbed her cell that rested on top of her bed.
"Rose, Manolo or Jimmy," Alice shouted frantically. She had about twenty more minutes until she needed to be out of the building.
"Manolo, the Choos will break after the second hour."
Rosalie was right. The width of a two centimeter heal could nearly take one hour of backstage sprinting let alown two.
PLEASE READ!!!
I have a very important question that I need answered for the next chapter:
Does anyone know where the Masen family is originally from? I know Edward was born/lived in Chicago, but where was his family from? England, like Carlisle? Mediterranean Region?
If you know PLEASE tell me ( its for next chapter )
ALSO, a little less important:
What are "PM's?" Does they stand for "Personal Messages?" Did I get it right??
LAST THING ( long list I know, I don't blame you if you have already stopped reading )
If you don't understand some of the inferences that I make, please ask me. I would hate to think you didn't know what I was talking about.
As always thanks for reading
xox
Lex
P.S. Francisco Costa was brought in to be the successor for Calvin Kline after the brand was bought in 2002. That is why Alice says "Francisco" and not "Calvin" ( you might want to remmember this for the next chapter...hint...hint )