Urban God of Rebate: Infinite Returns Of Women And Powers

”It’s a categorization system,” said Vanessa.

”What category does a lightning bolt represent,” said Sarah.

”Significant client,” said Vanessa.

”Right,” said Sarah. She wrote something in her notebook. ”So you want to invite your significant client to Paris.”

”I want to extend a professional invitation to someone whose aesthetic sensibility and interest in fashion has been demonstrated through his purchasing patterns,” said Vanessa. ”It’s a business decision.”

”Of course,” said Sarah.

”Stop writing things in that notebook.”

”I’m taking minutes,” said Sarah.

”Of what,” said Vanessa.

”This meeting,” said Sarah.

”This isn’t a meeting,” said Vanessa.

”Then why am I here,” said Sarah.

Vanessa looked at her. Sarah looked back with the specific expression of a twenty-six-year-old who had three years of practice being patient with someone considerably more experienced than her at everything except, apparently, this.

”I’m not sure it’s appropriate,” said Vanessa finally.

”The invitation,” said Sarah.

”Paris is not a typical client relationship gesture,” said Vanessa. ”A discount. An early access preview. Those are client relationship gestures. Inviting someone to Paris for a week is.”

”A date,” said Sarah helpfully.

”A significant expression of professional regard,” said Vanessa.

”That is the longest way I’ve ever heard anyone say date,” said Sarah.

”It isn’t a date,” said Vanessa. ”It’s a fashion show. With multiple other guests. In a professional context.”

”In Paris,” said Sarah.

”Paris is where the show is,” said Vanessa. ”I didn’t choose Paris to be romantic. I chose Paris because the venue has the right ceiling height for the installation piece and the European press will be there.”

”The ceiling height,” said Sarah.

”It matters enormously for the installation,” said Vanessa.

”I’m sure it does,” said Sarah, writing in her notebook again.

Vanessa stood up and walked back to the mood board. She stood in front of it with her arms crossed, looking at the fabric swatches and the Paris venue photographs and the collection pieces she’d been working on for eight months.

”He’ll think I’m too forward,” she said.

”Vanessa,” said Sarah.

”I’m thirty years old,” said Vanessa. ”He’s eighteen. Inviting an eighteen-year-old to Paris on a week’s notice is either very confident or very—”

”Vanessa,” said Sarah again.

”What.”

”You are one of the most successful fashion retail managers in this city,” said Sarah. ”You have dressed three city council members and a federal judge and the wife of someone I’m not allowed to name due to a confidentiality agreement. You have been invited to sit front row at four international shows this year alone. And you are currently standing in front of a mood board worried that an eighteen-year-old is going to think you’re too forward.”

Vanessa looked at her mood board.

”He’s not like other men,” said Vanessa quietly.

Sarah paused, pen hovering. ”What do you mean.”

”Most men who come into this store,” said Vanessa, ”regardless of how much money they have, behave in a specific way. They perform. They want you to see how comfortable they are, how casual the amount is, how little the price matters.” She turned around. ”Sean walked in here in a worn-out shirt and jeans and asked a rude sales clerk to ring up twenty thousand dollars in clothing because he’d checked his phone and confirmed he could afford it. No performance. No looking around to see who was watching. Just a transaction and a very specific kind of confidence that has nothing to do with needing anyone to confirm it.”

Sarah looked at her secretary notebook. Then at Vanessa. ”And you found that.”

”Professionally interesting,” said Vanessa.

”The lightning bolt emoji suggests professionally interesting,” said Sarah.

”Sarah.”

”I’m just saying the emoji is doing a lot of work,” said Sarah. ”A standard asterisk would have covered professionally interesting. A lightning bolt is something else.”

Vanessa sat back down behind her desk. ”What if he says no.”

”Then he says no,” said Sarah. ”And you have two empty seats at a Paris show with excellent ceiling height.”

”What if he thinks it’s strange,” said Vanessa. ”That I’m asking.”

”Any man in this city would lose his mind at the chance to go to Paris with you,” said Sarah. ”I say this with complete professional objectivity.”

”Sean is not any man in this city,” said Vanessa.

”That’s why you want to invite him,” said Sarah.

Vanessa looked at her. Sarah looked back, having apparently decided that patience was no longer the tool required and something more direct had become appropriate.

”He came in here twice,” said Sarah. ”Spent what most people don’t earn in a year. Let me style him. Took your personal number. Has not called for anything except scheduling.” She paused. ”And you’ve been standing in front of that mood board for forty minutes.”

”Thirty,” said Vanessa.

”I’ve been timing,” said Sarah. ”Forty.”

”That’s not accurate,” said Vanessa.

”I have a very precise internal clock,” said Sarah. ”It’s one of my qualifications.”

Vanessa looked at the mood board one more time. Then she turned back to her desk and pulled up her calendar and looked at the Paris itinerary she’d been refining for weeks.

”What do I even say,” said Vanessa. ”When he comes in. I can’t just hand him a Paris invitation the moment he walks through the door.”

”Why not,” said Sarah.

”Because it’s too direct,” said Vanessa.

”You once told a deputy mayor his tie was wrong to his face in a receiving line,” said Sarah. ”You told the label of a major fashion house that their spring collection looked like it had been designed by someone who had never met a human body. You are not a person who struggles with directness.”

”That’s professional directness,” said Vanessa. ”This is.”

”Personal directness,” said Sarah.

”Different category,” said Vanessa.

”Apparently,” said Sarah. She wrote something final in her notebook and closed it. ”Vanessa. You texted him. He’s coming. That was already the hard part.”

Vanessa looked at her phone on the desk, the message she’d sent Sean still visible on the screen. Something personal to tell you.