Once Upon A Time(58)

“The black and white are the label colors, but also we tend to lean more towards bridal wear than fashion. Celebrity weddings usually consist of two things: a ridiculous budget and a request for a unique Vera Wang dress,” Meshia said, stepping into the room and placing the dress on another metal hook on the back wall.

“Once you’ve changed into the dress, give me a shout and we can start making some adjustments.” Meshia smiled before turning and leaving the room.

I let out a heavy sigh the moment I heard the door click into place. Here I was, standing in the middle of Vera Wang’s personal studio, the place where she designed seasons worth of stunning fashion. I may be from the sticks of Kentucky but even I understood just how fortunate I was to be in a place like this.

I shook my head as I stepped on to the platform and gazed at my reflection. This was not me. I needed a friend, someone to hold my hand as I stood in a world where I'd never really ventured.

Pulling out my cell, I sent a text to the two people I knew would not only appreciate my apprehension but also squeal in child-like fashion at the mere mention of Vera Wang.



Me: Guys, I need help.



As I set down my cell, the door to my right opened and in walked a smiling Meshia with a glass of champagne. Who drinks champagne while trying on a dress? Oh, wait. People with more money than sense.

“Something wrong with the dress, Miss Miller?” Meshia asked, setting the champagne glass on a small table beside the door.

What the hell did I say to her? Oh hey, so... I’m kinda used to buying my clothes from a thrift store and my best friend lets me borrow her Louboutins because I’m broke?

“This,” I waved my hand around, “is so out of my depth.”

Meshia smiled politely.

“Don’t worry. Mr. Black thought you might be apprehensive. I presume you’ve already called your friends?” she asked, raising her brow.

Shit. She’d already informed me it was an honor to stand in the personal studio of Vera Wang, I doubt they’d let just anyone off the street walk in, even my best friends.

I nodded my head gently, looking down at the plush carpet beneath my pair of cheap heels.

“Good, I’ll send them through when they arrive.”

What?

“Er. Thank you?” I said quizzically.

“Like I said before, Miss Miller, Mr. Black is a close friend of the label, what he wants, he gets and he wants you to be comfortable.” She smiled before leaving me alone in the room, the most stunning dress I’d ever seen staring back at me.

Groaning out loud, I shook my head and walking to the small table by the door, I grabbed the champagne glass. Without thinking, I threw back the bubbly liquid down my throat.

“Ugh.” I smacked my lips together.

I don’t care how expensive, champagne is nasty.

Setting the glass back down on the table, I turned towards the dress that was luring me in. Stepping towards it, I ran my fingertips over the blue fabric of the bodice. It’s so smooth and soft beneath my fingers, I was afraid I’d ruin it merely by touching it. This so wasn’t me.

Why the hell am I here? To prove how big the divide is between the ridiculously rich and the utterly broke?

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my cell from the podium and made my way towards the door, wondering how the hell I’d tell Meshia I wouldn’t be taking or wearing the dress. I hoped they wouldn’t be offended but the moment my hand grasped the handle on the door, a force opened it from the other side.

I sighed in utter relief when I saw the smiling and excited faces of my best friends. Although the moment Kylie saw the stress lines on my forehead, she shoved me back into the room, along with Quinn, shutting the door behind her.

“Okay. What’s wrong?” Her hands came down on my shoulders as she stared me straight in the eyes, trying to work out what my problem was. “It’s the money thing,” she evaluated, clearly reading my mind.

“Take a look at it, Kylie.” I sighed, averting my gaze to the floor.

Kylie and Quinn’s gazes searched the room until they landed on the swath of blue fabric hanging from the clothing hook behind me.

“Oh. My. God.” Kylie gasped.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Quinn shrieked, covering his mouth with his hands.

My only response was a deep groan.

“Payton Miller!” Kylie screeched from behind me, the high pitch tone in her voice grabbing my attention. Turning, I chuckled. Kylie’s hands sat on her hips and I’m positive I saw her foot tapping against the floor. “You’re going to try this dress on without a single complaint, even if it’s just to feed our love of Vera Wang.” She waved her hand to indicate herself and Quinn. Quinn nodded his head a few times before taking the dress down from the hook.