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All Chapters of My Dismissive Fake-Love Marriage: Chapter 71
- Chapter 80
174 Chapters
71 past
Monica was back into the door, pushing it open with her butt, and joining the morning rush of people on the street once more. She makes it to the corner and go through the glass double doors simply marked Jacobs in a beautiful gold script font. Nora’s storefront has a smallselection of off-the-rack options, but the bulk of her work is through custom designs and the few boutiques she works with directly. Inside, she was hit with a bustle of activity as assistants run back and forth to set up racks in the conference room. “What’s that for?” she asks an intern. “Backdrop scenery for the call. Nora’s early morning, brilliant idea,” he replies, never pausing. In the conference room, Nora’s presence is commanding as she gestures and gives orders to the people scurrying about to do her bidding. At five feet eight in her bare feet—not that many see her that undone—she’s sharplydressed in a white pantsuit with a custom hand-embroidered rose on the lapel of her jacket. It’s her own design, o
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72 a nice move
Jacqueline’s still talking. “I’d like to invite Monica to Paris, to House Corbin, for a month-long contest of sorts with the other finalists. It will be all-expenses paid, of course, including flights, lodging, and materials. Some of the other young ladies are not currently associated with designers, but seeing as Ms. Tedd is on your roster, I felt it only proper to notify you first.” Monica is shaking. She has managed to sit up, at least, but she is still on the linoleum floor and there are interns looking through the glass on the side of the room in concern. She flashes them a shaky smile so they don’t barge in to rescue her from herself. Nora smiles, well aware of her shock. “Of course. I’ll be sad to lose Monica for a month . . . or more” —she tacks on with a wink— “but I know she’ll be head over heels at this opportunity.” Is she seriously making fun of her at a time like this? She was going to kill her. After she kisses her for making her apply in the first place. “In fact, J
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73 Paris downtown
She has already downloaded an app to start learning and another to do translations. “I’m gonna be fine. This is an amazing opportunity for me,” she tells her, wishing she could understand what this means to Monica. She’s supportive, or she wants to be, but sometimes her fears come through in ways that sting and hurt. Her dreams are so much more than hers ever were, and she has adifficult time relating. She want to be more than just another Masshole. She wants more than a nice, boring husband, two-point-five nice, boring kids, a nice, boring,hypoallergenic dog, and a job at the local theater doing costume design, which was Mom’s grand suggestion to fulfill her designing dreams after she shot down being a specialty bridal tailor. That’s her dream for her—acombination of her hopes and her fashion interest. But that would never be enough for her. Monica didn't feel like telling Julien anything. Ava face timed her with Jamie as Jamie ignored asking that his father is never going to com
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74 fart or snore
Actually . . .that’s not all snores. Monica thinks he just farted. She glares at him as though he’ll feel it in his sleep. Seriously? If he just launched a deadly dose of methane inside a metal tube with recirculated air, she was going to suffocate because she can’t escape to the onboard bathroom with her feet still asleep. She rolls her ankles with more intention, because now that she has thought about it, she really could use a trip to the restroom. A glance at Turkey Neck has her doing some mental gymnastics about how she might get around him and out into the aisle, but she comes up short of any reasonable possibility. She is ready for this flight to be over. As bad as it’s going, she mostly want it to be over so that she will be there . . . in Paris! That’s the thought that’s been playing in her mind, over and over, with every mile. She was going to design in Paris with House Corbin. It’s utter madness, and excitement shoots through her, fresh once more. Hours, and a few more fa
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75 manifest
What there isn’t is . . . a toilet. Uhm, that’s a bare necessity too. Monica looks around again, as though a door to a water closet will have magically appeared in the last five seconds, which it hasn’t, nor has a toilet manifested in the corner. Confused, she looks at theapartment door. She pockets her key and step out into the hallway. There are New York studio apartments that have shared facilities. She has been fortunate enough to not live in one . . . until now, she guess. She glances at the handful of other doors, seeing similar locks and deducing that they likely have skeleton keys too. At the end of the hall, there’s a door with a different type of knob. She knocks twice. “Pardon?” Hearing nothing, she slowly turns the knob, hoping she is not about to walk into her new neighbor’s private space. Nothing likebarging in uninvited to mark herself as a stupid tourist with no boundaries, common sense, or manners. Thankfully, all she reveals is an equally small bathroom with a sink
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76 introductions
She looks great, her hair cut in a shaggy bob with a few braids woven through and peeking out the bottom, the same dimples framing her mischievous smile, and eyes that glitter with intelligence and bad ideas. She does a Mariah Carey impersonation with one hand to her ear and one waving through the air as she closes her eyes and sings, “Teaching these girls some karaokeeee favorites.” “That no one asked for,” a dry voice answers. Monica looks over to see a towering slender beauty with a domineering look and harsh, almost sharp features to both her face and her dress. She looks like she’s here to kick ass, take names, and spit out our corpses when she’s done with them, without giving a single fuck the entire time. She looks Russian, or something similar. “She is Molly, you are apparently Monica. I am Katarina. We are finalists in this contest.” “Nice to meet you," Monica greets her, still looking at the phone waiting for Julien to make calls. If he heard from his mom that she was in Ne
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77 Polyglot
Molly goes back to her karaoke, wailing out, “I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mothahhh—” “Ah, I'm afraid I’m not familiar with that tune. Perhaps you could introduce me to it,” he requests of Molly, who agrees with a wink. “To that end, I would suggest that we all attempt to speak English to one another, as it is the one language the five of you have in common. I understand that sometimes there are difficulties, and I’m happy to assist with any forgotten words. I speak French, English, both dialects of Japanese, Cantonese, Mandarin, Russian, Spanish, Italian, and a little of a few others. I’m a bit of a polyglot.” “What does sexing lots of people have to do with languages?” Molly hisses. “That’s polyamorous, and only with the consent of all involved parties,” Monica inform her quietly, her attention trained on Tobias. “As I was saying before I began bragging about my linguistic prowess” —he grins, not the least bit chagrined at his boasting— “I am here to introduce you
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78 who is the new guy?
Monica rips along the bottom seam for a frayed effect that barely covers her ass, and over the knee boots with tall platforms and spiky heels. She adds another scarf asa train, tying it to the waist chain too. A few more bits and baubles, and she was ready. Just in time, too, because she realised that everyone else has already completed their outfits and left the room. “Shit! C’mon, Monica. Get it together." She hurries down the hallway, realizing that she was not entirely sure which door they xame out of. They all looked the same, and time was ticking. She grabbed the door handle she thinks is the correct one and takes a steadying breath to get into character for the razzle dazzle Tobias said Madame Corbin wants. Monica bursts inside and twirl, giving the room her back, dropping it down low to twerk and singing, “There’s some hoes in this house, there’s some hoes in this house! Yeah, yeah, yeah you fucking with some wet ass pussy! Give me everything you GOT! With this wet ass—” A d
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79 Jackson
Once, he would have been correct. Jackson was nothing more than a pretty face, literally serving as the male face for House Corbin at his aunt’s behest. With age came the desire to be more and do more. He began by taking adeeper interest in the photography and representation of the brand during his model shoots. His interest quickly grew into learning the business side, and he immersed himself in every department, wanting to know as much as possible..Despite hid last name, not because of it. He had earned his position as an executive director. “Do you know what the word on the street is about House Corbin?” he asks him darkly. To his credit, he frowns but doesn’t speak. “Stale. Repetitive. Elitist. That is what I’ve communicated to Jacqueline time and time again. It’s what got her on board with this competition.” Using his own verbal habits, Jackson drives the point home that this is happening whether he’s happy about it or not. “Bourgeois,” he mutters. “Pardon?” Jackson snaps, glar
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80 Womens or girls?
“Ladies,” Tobias says, “this is Jackson Corbin, executive director of House Corbin, and as I’m sure you know, the face of our brand. He is the one who came up with the Fashion Females Under 25 competition.” He makes theannouncement with a small golf clap that Jackson is sure he will give him shit over later. “Thank you. I am wondering why our guests are dressed so . . .” he trails off, not sure how to describe the variety of craziness in front of him. Tobias laughs easily. “It was a brilliant idea your aunt had. Have them dress up amusingly in a style to be in opposition to their usual. And voila.” “Interesting,” Jackson allows, though he doesn't like it. The competitors Jacqueline and Jackson selected are all talented, innovative designers. They should not be reduced to dramatic antics, despite the tempting sexiness of the frayed strings adorning Monica’s upper thighs. An image of the same frayed bits hanging over her ass while she twerked forms in his mind, resulting in a tighten
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