“Kiki, darling, it’s the only way I can get all this work done. We have the Candy Land Ball coming up soon.”
“There’s too much to do. I feel bad for going on vacation.”
“Don’t be silly.” Taddy took another swig. “I didn’t hear from you this week, you okay?” She sat back in her chair, admiring Kiki’s outfit. A cream-colored sundress from Carolina Herrera’s spring collection, circa two years ago, it showed off Kiki’s legs. It was Taddy’s, taken from her closet. She didn’t mind. “I thought Port Authority stopped allowing New Jersey citizens into Manhattan.”
“Funny, Miss Brill, I came straight from your apartment. Three days nonstop, but I finished the inspiration boards.”
“Did you eat? You look gaunt.”
“Your butler fed me. He’s nice.”
“Díma is a fierce cleaner and my laundry is always perfect. But his kitchen skills are horrific. You ate his cooking, huh?”
“Your butler uses a communist nutrition book when he cooks.”
“What on earth did he make for you?”
“Holodets.”
“Is that some fish that only swims in the Azov Sea?”
“No. It’s minced meat. Díma also served me a plate of—beef tongue.”
“Yuk. No wonder you appear to have lost weight.” Taddy was embarrassed by her butler serving Kiki such nastiness.
“I didn’t eat those meals.”
“Oh?”
“I told him Mormons don’t eat meat and he made me a green salad.”
“Is that true about Mormons?”
“No, I fibbed.” Kiki laughed. “Mormons aren’t supposed to lie either. But I didn’t have the heart to hurt his feelings. I made a note for you to give Díma classes at the Natural Gourmet Institute for his birthday.”
“Kiki, you’re a thoughtful one. Great idea, thank you.”
“I enjoyed my time over there. I love your dogs. They ate the holodets. I didn’t realize you have a puppy litter.”
“How many fur babies did you see?”
“Three, maybe four.” Kiki smiled.
“The breeder swore to me I bought Shih Tzus. I bet they’re Gremlins. No matter if they get water or not, they seem to be multiplying.” Taddy had adopted the dogs to keep her mind off men. It didn’t work. She tried to act nonchalant, as if they decorated her apartment better than throw pillows. But in reality, she worshiped Ruby, Scarlet, Carmine and Cherry. They slept in her bed at night and kept her company.
“I’ve never seen red Shih Tzus.” Kiki handed her the image printouts she’d taken for the Neve project. “You don’t by chance dye the dogs’ coats—do you, Miss Brill?”
Smart girl. “Only when the color fades.” She winked. “The fur babies arrived from Hong Kong. I didn’t imagine one could love anything with a tail, but I’m quite attached.” She studied the pictures. Kiki had done amazing work. “Thank you for these marvelous photos. Luxury TV will eat this up. We’ll get these over to Blake in marketing.”
“My pleasure, Miss Brill.”
“See, I told you—nothing to worry about with my penthouse.”
“You have more accessories than Bergdorf’s, Barney’s and Bendel’s combined.” Kiki pulled her notebook out and cleared her throat. “In ascending order, your New York penthouse, which excludes your Malibu, London and Paris homes, stores 127 scarves, 249 wraps, 341 hats, 495 gloves, 681 sunglasses, 759 belts, 989 handbags, 1,092 rings, 1,217 pairs of shoes, 1,355 necklaces, and 3,512 pairs of earrings.”
“I do adore earrings.” Looking through the photos felt similar to seeing old friends in a family album. Hello, Dolce. I’ve missed you, Versace. Sorry about your last show, Marc. In a way, luxury goods became loved ones similar to a relative. “If you consider this loot-to-the-max, gander at my dildo collection sometime.” She winked. “Come to think of it, I haven’t played with my dildos in ages.”
Exhausted, Kiki plopped herself down on the high-back chair by her desk. “Thank you for the tickets to Cannes this weekend. I didn’t know it was a movie convention.”
“It’s called Le Festival International du Film de Cannes. Please don’t say the word movie when in Cannes.” She tried to groom Kiki little by little. “Are you excited?”
“I’m nervous.”
“Darling, you’re going to have an amazing experience.” Crossing her legs, she thought about the magical memories—bike-riding topless down the Promenade de la Croisette, having her pussy eaten outdoors along la Croisette, making love on a yacht docked at Vieux Port—and they all came flooding back to her as one blissful orgasm. She enjoyed Cannes almost as much as she loved St. Tropez. My tits adore the French Riviera.
“Cannes is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, Miss Brill. I can’t thank you enough.” Eyes filled with tears, Kiki’s face puffed as if she’d cried for days.
“Kiki, please don’t start crying.” It was common for Brill girls to shed tears from stress, dieting, being dumped, missing their parents, being evicted or not making the Barneys Warehouse Sale in time to find anything in a size two. But she’d never seen this. “Remember what our handbook states about crying?”
Her assistant blew her nose. “Eh?”
“You are permitted on occasion to whimper, whine and snivel. But under no circumstance shall you blubber, sob or bawl.” Bodily functions were for the weak. Girl, dig your acrylics into your palms, bite the inside of your cheek, take a deep breath and suck it up.
“These are good tears. I’m happy.” Kiki wiped her pink nose again. “My family isn’t speaking to me much. Not since I left Utah for here. It’s just nice to have some TLC in my life again.”
Unfamiliar with crying because of happiness, she offered, “Sorry, honey…I didn’t know.” Her assistant worked against impossible odds to make it in the Big Apple. Brill, Inc. statistics revealed fifty percent of her new hires, ages twenty-one to twenty-six, returned home within the first year. Half from the remaining group followed their predecessor at year two. And a third from the final group wed and bred, moving to Long Island, Westchester or Connecticut a year later. Leaving her Utah family and LDS congregation behind wore on Kiki, and Taddy identified with her homesickness.