Page 27 of The Bad Girl
“Oh, save it.” Nola waves a dismissive hand. “The truth is, Mr. Stryder, you need me a heck of a lot more than I need you. Now take back your tacky jacket so I can get on with my day.”
Nola rises from her seat and tosses the jacket to the floor, stepping on it as she leaves. Maxwell jumps up to follow and salvage the deal. I bury my head in my hands.
I can’t believe I lost Maxwell Nola FUCKING Laybecks, only one of the most relevant and influential models of the moment, and most certainly shaping up to be the greatest of the century.
Is it so hard to believe, though? Really? You went off with that analytical side of your brain again, and Miss Nola didn’t rise in popularity using logic. She was innovative, keeping people guessing. You spoon-fed a dangerous woman safe advice.
Then it hit me. I know the real reason Nola rejected the collaboration, and even more importantly, I know exactly what I need to say in order to right the situation.
Nola has one foot out the door when I approach, cool, calm, and collected.
Here goes nothing.
“You were never planning on signing with InStryde, were you?” I say.
Maxwell turns towards me, a look of horror on his face. Nola, however, stops dead in her tracks.
“In a few weeks, you’ll announce your own fashion house. It might be a collaborative effort, but there will be no mistaking you at the head.”
At the first opportunity, Maxwell cuts in and says, “She simply means —”
“Look, Maxwell, “ I interject, “I got this.”
“I don’t owe you nothing,” Nola finally says, but makes no move to leave.
“Why don’t we sit down and talk about this?” I suggest.
“What is there to talk about?” Nola snaps.
“At twenty-three, I received my MBA, specializing in data analytics. I know what you’re planning, and I can see where it has the potential to fail, or at the very least, not go quite according to plan. You’ll be going up against an industry giant—a legend. This meeting was only so you could boast about your confrontation with the proverbial Goliath, but let me tell you something, you may get a few accolades for going up against the juggernaut of the industry, but you’ll also be making a lot of enemies.”
She points a long, blue-tipped nail at me. “You think I care about—”
“Yes—yes, I do.”
“Nadine,” Maxwell says in a firm, tense voice.
“If I’m at all right, let’s go back to talking. If you decide to walk away, well, that just gives InStryde time to prepare, maybe get Kyrhonda in our court,” I say, namedropping an up-and-coming rival. “I think it’s safe to say, I’ll be good at predicting your next move.”
Nola’s eyes light in fury, but she remains silent, mulling over my words.
I turn, walking back to my seat, and wait for the two professionals to join me. After a moment, Nola relents, reclaiming her seat. Maxwell follows.
You are a bad girl. The one with no apologies. The one who gets what she wants.
I start in immediately. “If I’m correct, you plan on launching in a month or two to make the main runway events of the season, and during your rollout, you’ll insinuate that the ‘dated’ fashion house, InStryde, did everything they could to not only get you but silence your creative vision. You couldn’t take it, so you set off on your own to create a fashion house for the times.”
Nola looks me dead in the eyes. “Great, now who’s my fucking rat?”
Maxwell’s face lights in surprise.
“You are,” I reply. “You make it too obvious. People love you because you’re emotionally driven. It’s how you’ve succeeded in rising to power, but there are weaknesses to your method. When you put together this plan, you should have had someone like me on your team.”
“So, what are you suggesting? Are you gonna try to tie and tether me to the InStryde brand? Are you going to demand I attribute my vision to Maxwell?”
“Absolutely not. If you want to keep the same plan, by all means, do so, but use LeVuluminé instead of us. Also, think about having Maxwell introduce you at your debut show. You’re already going to have the funky, fun crowd. If you make enemies of Maxwell, you’ll lose out on a whole generation of consumers. With Maxwell’s introduction, instead of alienating those who enjoy Italian luxury, you’ll enamor them.”
Nola fidgets with a beaded bracelet on her wrist, clearly unsure of what to do. To say I’ve pulled the rug out from underneath her is an understatement.
“I think you better listen to my assistant,” Maxwell finally says, and for just a moment, I wonder if I’m going to faint.
Nola’s perfectly sculpted, silver hair doesn’t move as she leans forward, shaking her head. I try not to let my fear show, but my chest is about to explode from the anticipation.
After a full minute, Nola looks up at Maxwell, a scathing look in her hot-pink eyes. “Let’s talk about whatyoucan do forme.”
