Her cheeks flushed. She could feel the heat prickle against her skin. That’s what you’re proud of, she could hear them thinking. Each disparaging thought more pronounced between the flashing dots. Jamie was still typing.
It could go on forever. Evelyn locked her screen. The text thread disappearing behind a screen of black. The longest, Evelyn had ever seen here start/stop/start was 2.5 hours. Not that there should be so much opinion, or if there was, perhaps a phone call would have been more sufficient.
Evelyn sucked in a breath and glanced down at the screen. No incoming calls. She released the air from her lungs slowly. If there were that many opinions she wasn’t sure she could take them at the moment.
She placed her phone on the arm of the couch and continued to walk in circles moving at odd angles to keep the finished product in her blind spots.
Jamie had been her first friend turned client. Proper client.
Evelyn pictured the restaurant where they had met as her feet mechanically swept through her apartment. Any time she was meeting a new client no matter their level of celebrity or wealth Evelyn met them at L'amour à la Maison. The staff was wonderful and it was impossible to beat the coffee or the in-house French pastries worth every precious penny. For Christmas last year, Evelyn had made each employee a hand crafted scarf with a minimalist sketch of something that represented them (earbuds for Samantha, books for Stephie, a baby donkey for Courtney, a flower for Jose).
Long before her work had shown up on red carpets or Drag Race — what a dream come true — before she could properly afford it, Evelyn was a patron at L’amour from its opening days. A tiny table in the back where she would sketch and plan, figure out her orders and her schedule. Sometimes she would even take the afternoon just to enjoy a coffee, two of her favorites chocolates, and a sinfully good book.
They didn’t take reservations, but for her they always set aside her table if she called.
Jamie had never been. When they hung out it was usually at her place. Her and her fiancé had an apartment overlooking the park. At least that’s how it was billed. Jamie had been pissed when they had first moved in, Sam had vetted this one. She looked out each window hopefully expecting the lush wildness of the treetops and instead was met with a variety of building exteriors. It was a phone call Evelyn had not forgotten. There were at least six different types Jamie had counted from their bedroom. Finally Sam had taken her to the roof and there was a visible stretch of park in the distance. Evelyn had been most surprised Sam had returned from their rooftop venture. Not that he noticed. He had gotten the apartment he wanted, even promised Jamie to chip in the extra money since he had gone slightly over her designated budget.
Evelyn hadn’t heard anything more about it since the third month they were there, the first month Sam didn’t have the extra money. The fourth month he didn’t have the extra money or his baseline contribution to their rent.
To make up for the fact that she was overpaying, and doing it effectively alone, she was going to spend as much time in their apartment as possible. Including girls nights. Evelyn rolled her eyes, it was easy to get lost in the drama of Jamie’s life. Her reaction to her first time at L’amour was just one of the many examples.
“Well Ev, I’m impressed. When you first told me you met your prospects at a little French cafe I thought you were teasing. Then when you made it clear that you were serious I thought struggling artist.”
“J. K. Rowling didn’t mind,” Evelyn added.
She figured Jamie couldn’t be too series since her favorite author had been populating the same cafe for months before she got her big break. The comment was meant to be a throw away, a silly tease that was supposed to be in the same vein as Jamie’s comment.
"Much better than what I was expecting,” Jamie went on stiffly. She paused for a moment as if she had just heard what Evelyn had said. “She wouldn’t waste her precious little on — what does that sign say? $5 per chocolate? They’re the size of a quarter.”
Jamie remained standing behind her chair. She pressed on.
“You’re the one that wanted to make this like a real introduction. Prospective client Jamie, not friend Jamie. Here I am; woo me.”
Evelyn’s stomach turned slightly. Apparently Jamie had been serious. Samantha saw her from behind the counter. Her head titled sideways. Evelyn tried to smile. Her throat had suddenly become very dry.
Hundreds of clients had sat in the same seat Jamie was still hovering above, including one or two of her idols. This was a client meeting. With a quick breath, sharp through her nose and out through her mouth, Evelyn bowed her head lightly before standing up.
“Jamie? Hi! Evelyn. Lovely to meet you. I can’t wait to hear all about your special day. I’m going to grab a coffee. Is there something I can get for you?”
Jamie’s blue eyes darkened. Her thin, strawberry blonde hair looked dry under the atmospheric lights.
“Their pastries are delightful but their chocolates are divine.”
Evelyn watched as Jamie’s eyes scanned down her body, taking in her fitted, yet flowy, pearl top underneath an open hand-stitched silk blazer in light rose blush. Her jeans were skinny, dark, and fitted ending perfectly at her ankle above her strappy velvet heels.
"Herbal tea.”
Jamie answered before pulling out the chair and sinking into it.
The rest of the meeting had gone about the same. Evelyn’s coffee and two chocolates had helped in keeping her sane. If she hadn’t been friends with Jamie she probably would have declined the opportunity, but she was friends with Jamie. When they were finished, mostly finished Jamie had refused to let Evelyn talk numbers. Every time she started Jamie had plugged her ears saying things like “my best friend is making my wedding dress,” and “I know you’ll do the best you can.” Evelyn’s notebook and calendar tucked away in her bag, she stood excusing herself to the bathroom. Before she had pushed her chair in Jamie spoke up.
“Is that a Saint Laurent Sac de Jour?!”
Jamie’s whisper was harsh and loud.
Evelyn looked down at the bag in her arm. She was going to put it on the chair before tucking it in, the same way she would have if she was having a true client meeting. Something in Jamie’s stare made her stomach tighten.
“Yeah,” Evelyn started, “one of my cli—”
Jamie let out a harsh breath and tore her eyes from the bag.
“I’ll be right back,” Evelyn said.
With her bag slipped through her arm she walked around the table. Samantha smiled, her eyes shifting behind Evelyn to wear Jamie was. Evelyn rolled her eyes and made a small face.
“Card’s on the table,” she mouthed, pointing over her shoulder.
Samantha nodded.
When Evelyn returned to the table a very dismayed Samantha was there but Jamie was gone.
“There’s a note,” Samantha said handing her a slip of paper, “on the back, from your friend.”
Evelyn sat back in the chair reading the note, Thanks for everything! Happy to support you on MY big day.
That wasn’t too strange. The other side was the receipt for everything. Evelyn’s coffee and two chocolates, Jamie’s herbal tea, and a to go order: a box of chocolates, two pastries, and two coffees. $113.40 and no tip.
Samantha returned to the table with a coffee and two chocolates.
“It’s that kind of day,” she said putting them down.
“What happened?”
Evelyn looked up at the woman. They were about the same age and had gotten close over the years. Samantha was inline to be the next head managed at L’amour, and it was clear why.
“When I went to take the check she said you had asked for a to-go order. She said that this had been cute, but it wasn’t like a real brunch. Or something like that. She wanted to take your card but I wouldn’t let her. She took the bags and stormed out.”
The 24K gold leaf shined on top of her hazelnut creme filled chocolate.
“I just can’t understand, $83 of someone else’s money and you can’t even share the wealth and leave a tip?”
“The transaction is still open. We can cancel it and —”
“No, no. You guys don’t deserve the loss. But if it’s still open just bring me a new receipt with these on there and I’ll close out.”
“These,” Samantha said pushing them forward, “are on the house. You don’t have to do that.”
“Really, it’s okay. I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding or something. I’ll call Jamie on the way to your place. We’re still on?”
"Yes! I’m so excited. Dave is driving us to and from the show. He even made something called The Big D. He got it from a drag cocktail cookbook!”
Evelyn smiled brightly. She and Samantha were going to a show, one of the queens she had made a dress for was performing and had sent tickets. She had been sure everything with Jamie was a misunderstanding. After she corrected the bill, now $150, to include tip Evelyn dove into some sketches for Jamie based on their conversation.
Now, after months of hard work and yards upon yards of fabric, Evelyn had sent Jamie a preview. Her usually process was deposit then final payment, the upfront deposit locked in time and gave Evelyn funding for the materials. Jamie had asked if she could do one payment at the end, Evelyn had agreed. She wasn’t going to be charging Jamie for the time, just the materials. It was part of her wedding present. Not that she had told Jamie that. She insisted on being billed like every other one of Evelyn’s clients, except for skipping the deposit.
Her first fitting would be next month, so there would be time for some alterations to the design if there was anything she hated but the structure was set. The overall concept and idea of the piece had been crafted with love, care, and the attention to details Jamie had harped on.
Objectively, it was one of Evelyn’s most beautiful creations.
Minutes went by, enough that they turned to an hour. Then multiple. Sickness had clawed its way into Evelyn’s throat, down to the depths of her stomach. She wanted to call Jamie, but that look of disdain flashed before her every time she reached for the phone. She was going to call Samantha for advice, if she could muster up balls to pick up her phone. She had finally been promoted to head manager and was one of the best at navigating difficult customers. In Evelyn’s experience every person she designed for was either incredibly down to earth or had the best PA in the world.
Jamie didn’t have a PA, and Evelyn’s gut told her that she wasn’t going to be down to earth either.
Evelyn finally lifted the phone from the couch holding it like a sensitive bomb. Jamie was no longer typing. When Evelyn went to pull up her call log she resumed. Then stopped. A small vibration moved against Evelyn’s clenched fist.
Jamie had responded, “First fitting is next month? I can do. . .”
There was no commentary on the dress. There was really nothing else in their texts from the past few months since they had met in person. The simple “oops, thought I had invited you over. Enjoy your night out… thanks for the goodies! Hopefully you don’t do this with all your clients, I can’t imagine you’d make enough to afford your apartment, even if it is in Garment district.”
Evelyn pulled out her calendar and looked at the dates and times Jamie had sent her. She sent back a calendar invite for the only date and time that wouldn’t work for her.
Right away her phone vibrated. Jamie answered “doesn’t work for me, what else can you do?”
Evelyn’s heart sank. Was Jamie a Karen? She had sent her the list of dates and times, but then again, people did make mistakes.
She replied back with a few that would work, and one that “could only work if its a near-seamless fitting.” In reality it was the best option for Evelyn, she had no other appointments that day and was going to a special premier the new Beauty and the Beast production at night.
Jamie sent a calendar invite for that one, an hour earlier than what Evelyn had sent. A text followed, “great. See you for mimosas and whatnot then.”
Bile burned up Evelyn’s throat. Jamie worse than a Karen but how could she have missed it? All the years they went out together. It had been a long time since they went out. At least two years? When Jamie had moved in with her boyfriend giving up her rent controlled one bedroom apartment and adding three subways to her morning commute.
At least they had a date and time on the books now. Jamie would only fuck around so much with her own wedding dress. She had been going on for years about marrying Trent. She double downed on him when her family pointed out their misgivings and bombarded Evelyn with a catalog of every nice thing he did for her when she simply asked if she was happy.
Evelyn got out a bottle of chardonnay from a winery in upstate NY. Dry and just magical in everyday possible, especially when paired with a blended cheese of parmesan and gouda. It also paired well with milk chocolate curry chocolates. With no hesitation Evelyn dialed Samantha’s number. Throwing the phone on speaker she opened the bottle of white.
At least she knew what she was dealing with now.
“Hello,” Samantha said into the phone.
“You and some curry chocolates aren’t available for a wine and drag race night are you?”
“Oof, right to the point. Everything okay?”
“Wine is opened, and will be waiting for you to be poured. I’m okay, but I have some Jamie drama. Or should we call her Karen.”
“Dave can drop me off —” she paused, “he can drop me off and pick me up whenever we are done whether that is later tonight or tomorrow.”
“Hi Dave!”
“She says hello. See you soon!”
Citations
Nolfi, J. (2021, July 2). “rupaul’s drag race” stars sip and react to silky nutmeg ganache’s “cocktails for a queen” recipes. EW.com. https://ew.com/tv/silky-nutmeg-ganache-cocktail-book-recipes/
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