Page 9 of Falling into Place
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
Chapter Three
Carly
You won’t believe the joint business pitch Sasha and I came up with. Not quite as bananas as that reptile café in Midtown, but close. I can’t wait to tell you about it, let me know if you can talk sometime this week. Miss you.
—Text message from Carly Porter to Benjamin Wheeler
“He’s in.”
Sasha’s announcement came the second Carly opened her apartment door. Half an hour ago, she’d sent a text:
Sasha:you home?
Carly:Yep.
Sasha:I’m coming over and IHave News
There was only oneheshe could mean by that. Rather, there was only onehethat mattered, if Sasha had been thinking about the plan they’d cooked up as incessantly as Carly.
She’d been a little hesitant when Sasha first blurted out,We should do our own kind of reality show!that night at Variety. It sounded prettyout there and more than a little complicated to coordinate. But Sasha had kept at it, texting Carly every few days with updates about things she was working on—assessing local business interest, meeting with the editorial team about content placement and the like—to make sure the plan could work. It was when Sasha suggested a formal partnership with Mode to dress the chosen bachelor that Carly decided to go all in. A collaboration like this could be just the type of innovative idea to prove to Mai and Kyle she was someone worth investing in.
If all went according to plan, this could giveLiveOKCthe bump it needed and land Carly a coveted permanent position at Mode. And over the last few weeks, all the logistics had fallen into place nicely ... except one.
They had to find their bachelor.
“You found someone?”
Sasha danced her way into Carly’s apartment, pausing when she twirled around and landed in the kitchen. She dropped her hands and shook her head. “God, I always feel like such a slob when I see your place. How do you keep it so perfect all the time? It’s like a showroom.”
“Focus, Sasha. Who’s the bachelor?”
Her friend grinned as she leaned her hips back against the counter and crossed one ankle over the other. “None other than my very own brother, Brooks Martin.”
Carly’s mouth dropped open. “Brooks?How’d you get him to agree to that?”
“He was happy to help.”
Carly cocked a disbelieving brow.
“Fine,” Sasha said. “I bribed him with food, beer, and guilt. Macy helped.”
“Ah.” Carly smiled a little. The closeness between siblings had always been sweet and entertaining to watch for an only child like her. Based on her mother’s less-than-stellar parenting style, it was probably best for society as a whole that Carly never had a brother or sister, but still. Part of her had always wanted one.
“Your brother might be the last person I ever expected to be part of this.” And not necessarily because he was a bad choice. Brooks just wasn’t someone who had crossed Carly’s mind over the last several years. After he left for college when she and Sasha were about to start their senior year, it sort of felt like he’d dropped off the face of the earth. “Does he even need me? A stylist, I mean?”
Sasha barked out a laugh so loud, Carly’s cat, Pepper, fell off his perch on the back of the couch. “Boy, does he.”
Carly’s eyes went wide. “That bad?”
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know you love extensive makeovers more than the picky folks who already think they’re as good as runway models.”
It was true. Carly loved witnessing a complete transformation—not only on the outside but also what dressing well could do for a person’s confidence. Fashion had been one of her only sources of it growing up, even when she’d had to get creative. Back then she couldn’t risk spending much money, so she’d become a master at creating secondhand style. She loved teaching clients how to dress for different body types and thrived when presented with a challenge. That first look of awe tossed over their shoulder that saidOh my gosh, I look ... good?was the best part, hands down.
If Brooks really needed that much help, it was proof good fashion sense didn’t run in families. Sasha would never need help from a company like Mode. On the contrary, sometimes Carly’s ideas stemmed from something her friend wore. For as long as they’d been friends, which bloomed somewhere in the middle of fourth grade, Sasha’d stood out.
While she’d never turned as many heads, Carly always worked to put her best foot forward when it came to her appearance, too. Like it or not, it was people’s first impression of her. Even during her day job, where she walked into the office only to sit at the computer and work with numbers, she never had a hair out of place.
