Page 71 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
I drop my gaze to the floor and shake my head. It wasn’t thoughtful, but I don’t want to get into it.
“This is stunning.” Frankie is still examining all the fabric. “Piper is really good.”
I take a breath and step inside the room. When Frankie waves me closer, I can’t resist. I’ve wanted to see Piper’s designs.
I’m not disappointed. I’m keen on the colors and patterns and the way Piper’s put them together, but that’s as much as I know. The dress is pretty, but I’m not sure why.
I reckon Frankie senses I’m clueless—she has spent her entire existence with me, after all. She runs her fingers along the top of the dress. “See how she’s combined old denim patches with this quilted cotton bodice?”
I nod, assuming the floral stuff making up the body part of the dress is “quilted cotton.” At least I know what denim is.
“I bet this is all thrifted clothes she’s upcycled.” Frankie’s wide grin encourages me to really study Piper’s work. I want tosee what she’s seeing. “Remember when Piper and I used to go thrifting? She’d repurpose her finds into something better. Even the vintage designer stuff. Piper liked to make everything she wore. It was sort of like making it her own, I guess.”
“She’s good?” I ask.
“She’s better than good. Look how she’s made the stitches noticeable and imperfect. And the little bits of embroidery on the patchwork. I think this is a Japanese technique—I can’t remember the name of it. Honestly, Arch, Piper is going to make a name for herself. I’d wear this.” Frankie fingers the stitched flower design, then glances at the bed and moves there.
I examine Piper’s dress in the making more closely, trying to imagine her in it.
When I glance back at Frankie, she’s slowly turning the thick pages of the sketchbook I’ve seen Piper carrying around. She studies each one, but I stay where I am. Sure, I’ve messed with Piper plenty, but going through her things? That’s too far, even for me.
“These are even better,” Frankie says over her shoulder before tipping her head toward the book, inviting me to look.
Tentatively, I move closer until I can see Piper’s drawings from behind Frankie, which is technicallypeeking, notgoingthrough.
“Check out this patchwork dress.” Frankie points to the page and then to the different textures Piper has labeled.Recycled denim, reclaimed leather, vintage silk.
“Her designs are as good as any designer I’ve seen who is focused on repurposing,” Frankie says next to me.
“I wonder if they’re for Luca Valente.”
Frankie huffs a laugh. “If they are, he’ll take all the credit for them.”
I think I remember him dressing Frankie for a few events. She doesn’t sound like a fan, though.
“What do you mean?” I study the page closer, then give into temptation and flip to a few more, all of which have similar labels.
Frankie stops me from flipping a page to examine a design more closely. “The last dress I wore to the Oscars was a Valente, but the designer he sent to measure and fit me implied that the dress was one of the few things Valente had actually designed in recent years. Apparently, he uses his employees work more than he does his own these days.”
“Is that normal?”
“I remember my designer friends telling me that ‘borrowing’ happens a lot, especially when it comes to ideas. There’s so much collaboration that the path between idea to execution gets blurry.” Frankie walks to the Surf City High picture Piper teased me about her first day here and smiles at it.
“Luca, though, has a reputation for going straight from idea to execution without any collaboration, so his designers don’t get the kind of hands-on experience that will help them make a name for themselves.”
My heart sinks as I take in what she’s said. “I wonder if Piper knows that. She was pretty excited about her internship.”
Frankie shrugs. “I doubt she’s aware. I get the impression it’s the sort of thing people get blacklisted for being public about.”
I glance at Piper’s sketchbook again. I’ve seen her drawing in it every day since she’s been here. I’m not keen on the idea of something she’s worked so hard on being stolen from her.
My jaw tightens. I know how that feels.
Dad may have been the money behind “Surf City,” but I’m the one who spent twelve-hour days on set filming and months promoting the show. I’m the one who finished high school with a tutor and moved across the world from my mum. I worked hard and sacrificed a lot. And I’ve got nothing to show for it.
“Ready for your lesson in laundry?” Frankie asks, before wandering through the spotless bathroom that Piper has had to herself.
Reluctantly, I shut Piper’s book, my mind still on whether I should be worried about her working for Valente.
