Page 33 of Most Eligible Billionaire

And I wanted to cry from relief. And happiness. My beautiful sister with her bright red hair and orange faux-fur coat. People stare at her and she decides she looks amazing.

That night after she’s asleep, I go to my old jewelry collection, sifting through the pieces I’ve collected over the years. I finger a charm bracelet, one of the few beloved things I still have from my childhood, and that’s when the brainstorm hits.

I’m thinking high-end charms crossed with Valentine’s candy hearts. I'm thinking fun animal faces and playful sayings. Smuckers’s face withSmuck U. A cat withmeow, mofo. An owl:GrrOWL.

I start sketching and scribbling, coming up with increasingly outrageous messages. I stay up all night designing and making reckless decisions. It’s just a one-time outfit, so who cares?

I work up a bracelet and a necklace, all animal medallions the size of quarters set in neon pink alloy. The fact that Henry partly inspired it all adds to the crazy, fuck-you fire of it. But really, it’s not solely inspired by him. It’s the city and the battle of the jungle and droplets of water on windshields, the flashing perfume billboard out our window, bright desserts on a tray and me having some fun for once.

Somewhere around four in the morning I redesign everything to make it double sided, with the animal face on one side and white letters on the pink metal. I design sandal charms and hairpins, too. It’s messed up and wild. I forgot how much I missed color.

I drop my sister off at school and head to the makers space. Almost nobody is around. I make medallion molds of different sizes and work out how the lettering will go. Everything feels new. It’s a lot of work for a one-time outfit, but sometimes you make shit just to make it.

The place fills up. I work through lunch, and suddenly Carly’s calling. It’s already time to get her.

It’s only when I stroll out of there into the hot afternoon that I realize things I’ve been making don’t feel new at all.

They feel old. Like Vonda stuff. I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry when I realize that.

My insane collection is ready two days later, matched perfectly to the large Smuck U medallion that adorns the back of Smuckers’s throne.

I show Latrisha the bracelet and necklace set.

“You’re really committing to the madness,” she observes.

I inform her that there will also be a large zoinks medallion in my ponytail.

She’s just looking at the necklace. “I kind of want one. Exactly like this.”

I tell her I’ll make her one. A few other artisans come around. By the end of the day I have orders for ten pieces. I’m thinking about putting it on Etsy. I force myself to go back to my serious collection—Saks is tomorrow—but when I open the box I keep it in, my heart seems to sigh. Not a good sigh. A sad sigh.

Even tucked into elegant black velvet, the pieces look sad. I’m selling safety. Invisibility. Being on trial. Jewelry for a girl who wants desperately to be trusted. Wants not to be hated.

And I realize I want more.

Ten

Vicky

The prebuyers frown.“This is completely different,” a woman in mod stripes says. She’s rail thin like so many in the fashion industry trenches. “You can’t switch.”

“The old stuff was about women hiding their true personalities, and that’s not what I’m interested in anymore,” I say. “Jewelry should express something.” Even as I say it, I’m wondering if I’m committing too much to the cray. But I can’t deal with the old collection. It’s like I’ve developed an allergy to it overnight.

Her blue-haired partner, who looks like he’s eighteen, is not happy. He closes the case and slides it across to me. “We worked up a whole new biz-casual strategy for the other, and that’s not this.”

“We had this designated for a specific niche,” the woman says.

The main buyer comes in. They both look really nervous. “We might have to postpone this,” the blue-haired buyer says. “This isn’t the collection we were slotting. This new one…no offense.”

The main buyer frowns. “Usually when somebody says no offense, there is some. This I gotta see.”

“I brought one that wasn’t requested,” I explain, not wanting to throw the prebuyers under the bus. “I wasn’t thinking. I’ll go back through the channels.”

She makes a come-hither motion with her finger.

I slide the case to the middle of the table and open it. She pulls out the necklace and studies the animal faces with their weird little messages.

“Hmm,” she says, stopping on GrrrOwl.

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