Chapter8:The Cousin Returns

Show title on invite: LUXURY WITHOUT SUFFERING — BY JULIE DAVENPORT, FORMERLY MRS. ASHER, ALWAYS Julie

Tommy funded $100k, no approval, but he came anyway, front row, with Mark, with Eleni, with Miriam Klein who brought contract to show front row that this girl went from contract wife to contract owner. Avi did security, checked list with iPad.

Show starts, music — Jersey club mixed with Greek bouzouki, Eleni's idea — models walk on plywood runway that Keisha's boyfriend built, lights from A****n, but energy is real, Newark energy, girls clapping, yelling, You better walk, Jayla! Work, Amira! Luxury is us!

Last walk, Julie herself, in red bodycon gown from first cover, same gown she wore when she met Tommy first time, but now tailored to be hers, not borrowed, paired with Timberlands, not Louboutins, because Newark. Crowd stands, cheers, mothers crying, because one of them made it from Broad Street to runway without marrying for it, but because she married and divorced smart.

After show, after champagne, after hugs, after Eleni says, My daughter is a designer now, after Mark says, You did it, after Tommy says, $100k well spent, best investment Asher Capital ever made, after Leo brings flowers and says, You are art now, not just a girl who likes art.

A man walks in, late, expensive suit, not Newark, London. Tall, Greek, beard, eyes like Tommy's but colder.

Elias Asher.

Tommy's cousin. The one who offered double, £80k/month, Mayfair penthouse, email she deleted without opening but he didn't delete.

Mrs. Asher, he says, British accent, Greek British, offering hand, I mean Ms. Davenport, sorry, I heard about your show from Tommy's I*******m. He posted you. He never posts anyone. So I had to see the famous Julie from Newark who said no to my offer and yes to his for half price. Why?

Julie looks at Tommy, who is tense, Mark holding his hand tight.

Because he offered family, she says, loud enough for rooftop to hear, because 20 people still there listening, because Newark girls listening. Your cousin offered money. Tommy offered Post-its on fridge and respect and a building with my name on it. I chose building over bonus. I chose family over franchise. I chose Newark over Mayfair.

Elias smiles, not mean, tired like Tommy was a year ago.

I see, he says. My mother is dying too, like Stavros. Same cancer. Same club of old Greek mothers who told us to hide. My situation is same as Tommy's was. But I have no Julie in London. No girl from Newark who knows how to be elegant because she studied elegant women, not because she was born one. I have no one who can tell my mother, protect him like I am protecting him, woman to woman. So I came to ask in person, not email, because email is cowardly. Will you consider? £100k now, triple, plus store in London, plus you keep Newark store. Same rules. No falling in love. No public lovers. No pregnancy. 24 months. You would be free.

Silence on rooftop. 80 people staring. Keisha whispers, Girl, triple? Newark girls would take triple.

Tommy steps forward, protective, brother now, not husband.

Elias, no, he says. She is not for sale. Not anymore. She is my sister. You find your own Julie. There are many girls from Newark who want luxury without suffering. But there is only one Julie Davenport who taught my family how to be family.

Elias nods, looks at Julie, not angry, almost relieved someone said no for him, because maybe he didn't want to do contract either, maybe he wanted to be free like Tommy.

I understand, he says. But my offer stands, Ms. Davenport, if you ever want London. And my mother would love you. She loves strong women. Like Eleni loves you.

He leaves card, thick, embossed: ELIAS ASHER, ASHER CAPITAL EUROPE, MAYFAIR.

After he leaves, after rooftop empties, after models go home, after Keisha and Amira count tips — $600 cash tips from guests — Julie sits on edge of rooftop, legs over edge like Tommy did year ago on Tribeca balcony, 2 stories up, not 40, but same view: Newark lights, not Hudson, but hers.

Tommy sits next to her, same way, legs over edge, expensive Loro Piana pants ruined by plywood dust.

You okay? she asks, like she asked him at Plaza Gala year ago.

You okay? he asks back, like he asked her on balcony.

They laugh, same joke, one year later.

You could take London, he says, quiet, not jealous, just brotherly . Triple. Building in Mayfair. You would be global.

I know, she says, holding card, then tearing it in half, then quarters, letting wind take it over Newark, over Halsey Street, over Avon Avenue where she grew up. But I already have a building. I already have a family. I already have luxury without suffering. Why would I start new contract when I just finished old contract and turned it into real contract? I'm done being beard. I want to be owner.

She posts final T****k of night: @Julieluxuryloft — Day 120, NYFW Newark, former fake wife, current real luxury owner, turned down triple offer from London billionaire because I am not for sale anymore. I am the offer now.

Caption: You don't need a husband. You need a plan. And a building with your name on it. - Julie.

Video gets 100k views overnight,because girls from Newark share it, because girls who want luxury without suffering share it.

Tommy texts at midnight: Eleni saw your T****k video, says you are crazy to turn down triple, but proud you are her daughter.

Julie replies: Tell Eleni I turned down triple because she taught me luxury is not money, luxury is saying no when you can say yes.

Mark adds to group chat: Family forever.

Julie replies: Family forever. And no NDAs.

Eleni replies in Greek: Agapi mou, Ela, come home Sunday, pastitsio, and bring that boy Leo, I want to meet boy who paints my daughter.

Julie laughs, in her store, among her racks, among her empire that started with a post that said SEEKING GAY BILLIONAIRE FOR CONTRACT MARRIAGE, and ended with a building that says LUXURY WITHOUT SUFFERING.