Indie Girl (14 page)

Even as an ordinary reader and not the obsessed fashion/celebrity fan that I was, this was huge. It was the kind of thing I would love to read about in any magazine—how a big-name star was bucking convention, turning away from all the French couturiers and New York and Los Angeles designers who wanted to make her gown, and instead seek out something so unusual, so off the beaten track, in a remote village in India. In the world of celebrity news and fashion gossip, it didn’t get much better than this.

My heart was beating so fast I thought I was going to faint.

Suddenly I had something that someone like Aaralyn Taylor would want. Sitting here innocently, a bystander at a wedding, I had stumbled across information that could make me invaluable to people in the media. Entertainment news shows, glossy magazines, supermarket tabloids:
They usually paid a fortune to get their hands on this kind of thing, and here, it had fallen into my lap. I knew for a fact that nobody else would have this information: I had read GossipAddict just this morning, and they updated their site almost every hour, and there was nothing on this.

I had butterflies in my stomach and felt a little giddy. But I had a sense I had never really felt before—as if everything were somehow within my reach. Despite what my father had said and the fact that I had a slightly odd-sounding name and was a marginally overweight dark-skinned girl from Agoura, a tiny voice in the back of my head told me I had what it took. Even that nebulous internship, which I had heard nothing about and the winner was to be announced in less than a month; there was, in my mind, no reason I couldn’t have it.

Truth be told, by the end of my conversation with Rinky, I was feeling that there was no reason why I couldn’t have anything.

While Rinky and I had been immersed in conversation, we had been swept up by the crowd and were now standing in front of the newlyweds. Aditya smelled of Old Spice, and his bride had way too much blush on. I stared at them, smiling, and hugged each one of them warmly and lovingly. I was suddenly feeling joyous, swept up on a wave of euphoria.

Suddenly my father was next to me.

“Come, let’s eat,” he said, leading me out of the crowd. “I know you have to go, but at least fill your stomach before you leave.”

I accompanied my parents and my brother outside, where long tables had been set up holding large stainless steel containers of Indian food being warmed up by small burners underneath. I helped myself to
naan
bread and
bhindi masala,
to potatoes cooked with cumin seeds and thick yogurt mixed with crunchy cucumber and tomatoes. I was suddenly hungry and wanted to devour everything.

Before I knew it, it was one o’clock. I looked down at my outfit, realized I had no time to change, and like Cinderella after the ball, made a sprint for the main entrance of the temple, where I was told Aldo would be waiting. On my way out, I ran into Rinky again.

“Just wanted to say good-bye,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. “I’ll explain later. But I owe you one.”

Aldo didn’t say anything to me, instead glancing for a minute at my shimmering silk and gold, most likely thinking how ridiculous I’d look and how clumsy I’d feel trying to chase after a two-year-old dressed like this. We coasted along the freeway in silence, just the gentle buzz of the radio in the background. It was another brilliant May day. The trees were rich and leafy, the sky a perfect shade of blue. And I was elated.

When we arrived, Juno let me in and while he tried to welcome me with warmth and enthusiasm, I could see the stress in his eyes.

“You look gorgeous, Indie,” he said, gazing at my outfit. “Hope you didn’t get all dressed up just for us,” he laughed.

“I had a wedding to go to this morning and I meant to change before getting here but didn’t have time,” I explained before realizing that he wasn’t really listening.

Kyle was sitting on the floor in the kitchen, playing with a remote-controlled car that beeped and lit up.

“Aaralyn usually doesn’t like him playing downstairs—she thinks it makes the house look cluttered, but I tell her that’s what children
do,
” he said, a hint of frustration crossing his face. “But she’s so preoccupied these days that I don’t think she even notices.”

He bent over to pick up his son, kissed him on the cheek, and handed him to me.

I heard the sound of tapping computer keys coming out of Aaralyn’s office.

All the way over here, I was envisioning just how I was going to tell her what I had heard. I would be almost matter-of-fact about it, as if I stumbled across this kind of information every day. She would gaze at me with astonishment and intrigue. She would fling her arms around me, call up her contacts to verify the story—who of course wouldn’t be able to deny it—and then thank me profusely. I was going to make her day.

But now that I was here, though, I wasn’t quite sure when I would tell her. She was busy in her office and I had been summoned here to do nothing more than play with her child.

Juno disappeared into his clinic in the back. I got down on the carpet with Kyle and started building his blocks, and I waited.

“You look like you’ve just come off the set of a Bollywood movie,” Aaralyn said, startling me.

I turned around. For someone who had been taking
lots of relaxing weekends off, she certainly didn’t look very good. She had gray circles around her eyes, her hair was in a messy ponytail, and she was in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Even her fingernails, which I remembered so clearly from that first day I saw her because they were pointed and lilac and almost menacing in a pretty way, were now free of polish. They even looked like she had been chewing on them.

“Oh, I came straight from a wedding,” I said, then explaining again what had happened to my change of clothes.

She looked me up and down, as if trying to figure out exactly what it was I was wearing. In the cool interior of her house, I felt rather garish and out of place.

“Well, you’ve got a few hours here this afternoon, and you need to be comfortable, so why don’t you go upstairs and rifle through my closet? I have some stretchy pants I wore during my pregnancy that I’ve kept which might fit you. But take Kyle with you. I just came out to get some coffee, but need to go right back into my office.”

Even though Aaralyn was suggesting that I could fit into her maternity clothes, I wasn’t in the least bit offended. I was just so excited that I was going to be able to have an up close look in her closet. I had seen it from afar that first day here. But being given an all-access pass by one of the best-dressed women in America to wander through her wardrobe—what self-respecting
fashion fiend wouldn’t be
thrilled
at such a prospect?

I gathered up Kyle and some of his things and went upstairs, careful not to trip over my floor-sweeping
lehenga
in the process. Just as I was standing at the bottom of the steps about to go up, the doorbell rang. Nobody else appeared to answer it, so I stuck my eye to the peephole. Cayman was standing on the other side. I felt a little lurch in my stomach and opened the door.

He let out a long, low, soft whistle when he saw me.

“You look like a princess,” he said.

I blushed.

“I was at a wedding,” I repeated for the third time that hour.

“Well, no girl I know goes to weddings dressed like that. I’m impressed. It must have been some shindig.”

“Actually, I was just about to go up and change. It’s hard to run after Kyle with those gold threads prickling into my skin.”

We both laughed.

I was beginning to like him more and more. And I hoped he felt the same way, although it was so hard to tell because he was always so genial. He was probably this nice and relaxed and charming with everybody. He was wearing an Levi’s T-shirt and a leather cuff around his wrist. It took a seriously confident young guy to wear jewelry and still look masculine.

“I’m here to help Juno out again,” he said, stepping in.
“He called last night, said he needed me for a few hours today. I was a bit bummed about it. Man, it’s a gorgeous Sunday! And it’s the last Sunday I’ll be working for a while. Anyway, it’s all good now.” He looked straight at me and smiled again, his brown eyes softening even more.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later,” he said, trying to make his way past my big froth of an outfit.

I nodded enthusiastically as Kyle kicked me in the thigh, telling me it was time to start moving.

All my friends were there. Chloé, Diane von Furstenberg, Oscar de la Renta. There was Michael Kors and Tommy Hilfiger and even a few hot new guys like Peter Som and Derek Lam. Not only was it the most gorgeous wardrobe I had ever seen, but it was also the most brilliantly organized. One section was all evening gowns, each one in a long transparent garment bag. Next to it was a grouping of semiformal cocktail dresses—Prada sheaths, some wispy Alberta Ferretti pieces. Another closet entirely held work and casual clothes; beautifully cut blazers from Giorgio Armani and tailored pants from Stella McCartney. And then her weekend clothes—a rundown of everybody from Escada Sport to Rock & Republic jeans, some of which still had four-hundred-dollar price tags stuck to them.

I had never been this close to such gorgeousness before. So immersed was I in the glamorous clothes in
front of me that I almost forgot why I was here. Instead, I stood there, fingering a Carolina Herrera satin gown and staring closely at some tube beads on an ice-blue Badgley Mischka. I was almost about to start rifling through the three racks of shoes beneath—the Christian Louboutins and Stephane Kélians—when Aaralyn’s voice sounded behind me.

“What
are
you doing?” she asked, holding her son. “Kyle was outside, at the top of the steps. Did you forget you had him in here with you? Good thing the gate was up so he couldn’t go anywhere; he could have tumbled down the steps,” she said.

“Crap,” I said under my breath. “I’m really sorry, Aaralyn, I just got so caught up in your beautiful wardrobe. I’ve never seen anything like it. You really have the most incredible clothes.”

“Thank you,” she said tersely. “And you’re really not going to find something to wear in
there,
” she said, motioning to her closet. “I should have been more specific. Come here.”

I followed her to a dresser against a wall, where she pulled open a drawer.

“Here,” she said, pulling out some drawstring pants from the Gap and a long-sleeved cotton top. “I was about to give these to Goodwill. But I suppose you can have them, if you’d like. I think they’d suit you.”

She tossed the clothes at me and put Kyle back on the
floor. This was my chance, I thought. I was alone in the room with her, had her full attention, and also probably needed to slightly redeem myself after she had found me rummaging through her closet like a burglar. I opened my mouth to say something. But the look on Aaralyn’s face told me she had something better to do and couldn’t wait to get back to her office. She turned around and left the room. I peeled off my ornate Indian clothes and shrugged into the clean and comfortable simplicity of Aaralyn’s castoffs, and then went back downstairs to resume my duties.

But, hopefully, I’d soon get a chance to make Aaralyn happy first.

The afternoon had gone smoothly enough. Although Kyle had refused to nap, at least he had played quietly and didn’t even ask for his mother. I was keeping an eye on the back door, hoping that Cayman would appear again. But obviously Juno was keeping him busy in there. As Kyle fidgeted with some large multicolored magnets, I started thinking again about the juicy news I was sitting on, wondering when the timing might be right.

Suddenly I heard a loud bang from Aaralyn’s office. I scooped Kyle up and ran in there. I remembered the place from my first day here. But today, it was in a state of total disarray. Papers were scattered all over the desk, and files were laid out over the emerald-green Persian rug on the floor. There was an upside-down slipper in one corner, a stained coffee mug on a side table. It looked as if she had been in here for hours. Even the room felt stressed.

“Aaralyn, is everything okay?” I called out.

The cordless phone was on the floor, smashed into six pieces. Aaralyn had thrown it against the wall. Now, her head was in her hands and she looked like she was crying.

“What happened?” I asked her, instinctively putting my hand on her shoulder, before realizing that even that was completely out of line. I don’t think I had ever touched her before.

“Nothing you would understand,” she said, stomping out and shrugging my hand off her. A few minutes later, I heard her in the backyard, arguing with Juno. Cayman had come into the house, in an apparent bid to get away from them.

“What happened?” I asked him, genuinely alarmed. It was like someone had died.

“A car company that sponsored a couple of pages in the magazine every issue just pulled out. Didn’t give a reason. Aaralyn is distraught. Juno is trying to calm her down, but I don’t think it’s working. He’s going to give her some St. John’s wort. She’d need a massive dose of it, though,” he said.

Five minutes later, Aaralyn came back in, a little more composed. She poured herself a drink of water and told me she was going back into her office.

It was now or never, I said to myself.

I had access to some information that would, if nothing else, help turn around Aaralyn’s day. There was no need for me to hang on to it anymore.

I asked Cayman to watch Kyle for a few minutes. He
looked at me quizzically when I told him I was going to talk to Aaralyn, but didn’t ask me about it.

The door to her office was shut. I knocked softly on it and waited.

“Who is it?” she asked gruffly.

“It’s me,” I replied. “Indie.”

“What do you want? I’m in the middle of something.”

“I need to talk to you,” I replied, trying to stop my voice from shaking. “It’s important.”

“If it’s about Kyle, go ask his dad. I can’t really deal with him right now.”

“It’s not about Kyle. It’s about your magazine.”

She opened the door and stepped aside to let me in.