Page 20 of Triggered By Love
“Ah, yes, the wild and wooly beach—so windblown in the winter,” Joan said.
The conversation trailed off as Avery set the table and was ensconced in memories that left a bitter taste precisely because of how sweet and hopeful she’d been.
Brando was the perfect boyfriend and for Joan, the perfect son. How was it possible to describe the loss? If he’d been inconsiderate or self-centered, or perhaps a little less thoughtful. If he’d not been the fearless hero who was always there when duty called. If he’d forgotten to call her and let her know he was safe, or if he’d been less appreciative of her or even tried to improve her with helpful suggestions…
But no, he’d accepted her insecurities the way no one else had, and he’d come to her aid when she needed him and let her spread her wings when she was able to.
If only she’d been more confident to do that last ramp walk alone.
“Brando would have loved this lasagna.” Joan picked at her food, twirling the fork in the salad. “It’s hard to believe he’s been gone almost a year.”
“Will you be okay coming to the fashion show?” Avery took in the sagging shadows underneath Joan’s eyes and general lack of energy.
“I can’t wait.” Joan forced an edge of gaiety in her voice. “I’m so proud of Brando for inspiring your new line of menswear. Classic and heroic. So reminiscent of the clean lines of Cary Grant coupled with the athletic ruggedness of Clark Gable.”
She sounded like she was reciting Alida’s ad copy instead of truly excited for Brando, and in a way, she was right to be devastated. How did anything, a tribute or dedication or posthumous award, make up for the absence of Brando’s hot vitality and the spirit and warmth he’d brought into their lives?
“Every line I drew was inspired by Brando,” Avery said. “I’m not sure the critics will appreciate the return to masculinity. The coiled power behind the well-tailored fit. The ramrod straight spine, strong chest, and sturdy legs. It’ll either be make or break, but I don’t much care for the slouchy soft fabrics and the stretchy knits that pass for menswear these days.”
“I agree,” Joan said staunchly. “How will you find models to portray Brando’s strength? I’m not sure you’d easily replicate the girth of his neck and fill out the shoulders.”
She ran her finger over one of her illustrated posters of a tailored suit with an ascot around the neck and the splash of a rose buttoned on the sleek lapel.
“Alida found someone with a big neck,” Avery said. “I’ll need to make a big splash this upcoming season, and he’s only available for Manhattan Fashion Week.”
“Oh, why’s that?”
“He’s a pro football player, and their season starts mid-September.” Too late, she recalled how Joan was an avid football fan before Brando’s death. “Maybe we can score tickets to their opening game. How would you like that?”
“Who’s the model?” Joan’s hands clasped together. “I can only think of one who’d have a chance of filling in for Brando, not that he’s half as handsome. Don’t tell me, is it Matt Swanson?”
Avery nodded wordlessly, watching Joan for a response.
She squealed like a schoolgirl and flapped her hands. “I mean, he’s not Brando, but he’ll do. How’d you get him to model for you? Isn’t he like a big star?”
“It’s a deal Alida made. I’m doing some promotional work for him, and he’ll walk in the opening for me.”
“You think I can get an autograph from him?” Joan asked. “But of course, this is all in Brando’s memory, and Matt Swanson is a favorite hometown hero.”
“Yes, I’m sure Matt will be glad to autograph anything you want,” Avery said. “In fact, we might be able to have dinner with him before the show.”
Joan wiped the corners of her eyes and blinked. “I just wish Brando were here. Remember the last playoff game when Matt broke a sack and rushed for the winning touchdown? Brando saved the clip of that boss move for his screen saver.”
“I’m sure Matt would be happy to hear what fans he has with you and Brando.” Avery put her hand on Joan’s shoulder. “I’ll be taking some publicity photos with Matt ahead of the show, so I don’t want you to be alarmed or anything.”
“Why would I be alarmed?”
Avery squirmed in her seat and shrugged, hoping to downplay what she was about to say. “It’s nothing really, but my part of the promotion is pretending to be his date.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Joan’s eyes sharpened, and she grasped Avery’s arm so tight it pinched. “He has a horrible reputation with threesomes and strippers. Why would you want to be mixed up with him?”
“It’s part of the deal. I wanted to let you know so you’re not surprised. I know it’s upsetting, but both of us need good publicity. I’ve been a recluse this entire year and out of circulation. He needs to clean up his image or his sponsors will drop him. Being seen with a woman like me will help, especially since I’m a small business owner and come from a conservative family.”
“Your parents aren’t going to like this one bit,” Joan said. “I don’t like this, and I feel it sullies Brando’s memory. It’s not even a year, and you’re dating a football player? A new man who’s modeling Brando’s fashion line?”
“I won’t do it if you don’t approve.” Avery stiffened her lip.
“How fake does it have to be?” Joan asked, clearly torn between her admiration for Matt on the football field and her disdain for his personal life. “I don’t mind if he’s promoting Brando’s name, but the dating part bothers me.”
