as they were on the outside. Because she’d lived her whole life in St. Elizabeth, she could maintain that childlike innocent view of the business. An imaginary circle had conscribed her world; life within its friendly confines had given her an unrealistic belief in human kindness.
I wasn’t about to shatter her dreams along with mine.
“There’s probably some mistake. The reporter got it wrong. Wynn showed him my photos to prove how good his students are. Their wires got crossed. Yeah, that’s probably what happened. No biggie. When he sees it, he’ll make them print a retraction.” I mumbled all this to myself as I wadded up the magazine pages and tossed them into the trash can. Then I started inventorying my supplies and getting ready for the day ahead.
LaReesa Bowens showed up at my elbow. She was a large woman with a couple of homemade tattoos on her right forearm. “Girlfriend, we talking about that man! He was on the down low, girl. He’s a dog! Passing off your stuff as his. That Wynn Goodman ought to be shot, he should. Everyone knows those were your styles! Everyone! What a jerk. Especially considering the other news and all.”
“Other news?” I froze.
LaReesa shifted her weight and stared at me. “You mean you don’t know? I thought you’d be the first person he’d tell.”
“Spill it.” I crossed my arms over my chest so she couldn’t see my hands shaking.
“Oh, baby girl.” LaReesa shook her head. “You ready for this? That skunk. He really is lower than a cottonmouth’s belly on a July day. You know what he went and did? It was all over the news this morning. That talk show on the radio? The one where they talk to all the celebrities?”
“What happened!” I was losing patience, and LaReesa had a tendency to wander off topic.
“Wynn Goodman got engaged. He’s marrying Eve Sebastiani!”
Chapter Nineteen
ARTURO SEBASTIANI GREW UP IN POSITANO, WHERE his father owned an olive orchard. Early on, the boy showed great talent with his sisters’ hair. Their friends started lining up in the Sebastiani kitchen where Arturo would cut, color, and curl for a small fee. Inspired by the soft skin of the farm workers, Arturo created a variety of products, all using high-quality olive oil. When the boy turned eighteen, the villagers took up a collection to send him to the States for training.
Arturo arrived in New York City, found a place behind a chair, and never looked back, although he has been a huge benefactor to the area. Once a year, he makes a pilgrimage to the village, bringing much-needed financial aidto such projects as the local library, the schools, and the churches.
Somewhere along the line, Arturo attracted the attention of a wealthy socialite who convinced her husband to back the Italian boy in a series of business ventures. Thus, Snippets was born. Arturo married a model, had a bambino, and the entire Sebastiani clan often appeared en fami-glia in advertisements for the Snippets chain.
Everyone in the industry followed the adventures of Eve Sebastiani, Arturo’s only child and his successor in the business. She helped in refugee camps in Uganda, broke ground for AIDS hospitals in Kenya, and still found time to meet the Queen at Ascot. As time went on, Eve took on more and more of the decision-making responsibilities. But when had her path crossed that of Wynn’s? How long had they been an item? Was it possible my friends were reporting old news? Wynn had stayed at my place overnight just last week before flying out to Los Angeles for meetings at Vidal Sassoon headquarters.
Or so he said. The company headquarters had moved nearly twenty years ago. But I needed Wynn so much that I didn’t question him. Looking back, I’d been just as blind about Wynn as I’d been about Hank, but for different reasons. With Hank, I was young and stupid. With Wynn, I was needy and hurt. Ours was a typical rebound relationship, but I was too blind to see that at the time.
“Here.”
I wasn’t about to shatter her dreams along with mine.
“There’s probably some mistake. The reporter got it wrong. Wynn showed him my photos to prove how good his students are. Their wires got crossed. Yeah, that’s probably what happened. No biggie. When he sees it, he’ll make them print a retraction.” I mumbled all this to myself as I wadded up the magazine pages and tossed them into the trash can. Then I started inventorying my supplies and getting ready for the day ahead.
LaReesa Bowens showed up at my elbow. She was a large woman with a couple of homemade tattoos on her right forearm. “Girlfriend, we talking about that man! He was on the down low, girl. He’s a dog! Passing off your stuff as his. That Wynn Goodman ought to be shot, he should. Everyone knows those were your styles! Everyone! What a jerk. Especially considering the other news and all.”
“Other news?” I froze.
LaReesa shifted her weight and stared at me. “You mean you don’t know? I thought you’d be the first person he’d tell.”
“Spill it.” I crossed my arms over my chest so she couldn’t see my hands shaking.
“Oh, baby girl.” LaReesa shook her head. “You ready for this? That skunk. He really is lower than a cottonmouth’s belly on a July day. You know what he went and did? It was all over the news this morning. That talk show on the radio? The one where they talk to all the celebrities?”
“What happened!” I was losing patience, and LaReesa had a tendency to wander off topic.
“Wynn Goodman got engaged. He’s marrying Eve Sebastiani!”
Chapter Nineteen
ARTURO SEBASTIANI GREW UP IN POSITANO, WHERE his father owned an olive orchard. Early on, the boy showed great talent with his sisters’ hair. Their friends started lining up in the Sebastiani kitchen where Arturo would cut, color, and curl for a small fee. Inspired by the soft skin of the farm workers, Arturo created a variety of products, all using high-quality olive oil. When the boy turned eighteen, the villagers took up a collection to send him to the States for training.
Arturo arrived in New York City, found a place behind a chair, and never looked back, although he has been a huge benefactor to the area. Once a year, he makes a pilgrimage to the village, bringing much-needed financial aidto such projects as the local library, the schools, and the churches.
Somewhere along the line, Arturo attracted the attention of a wealthy socialite who convinced her husband to back the Italian boy in a series of business ventures. Thus, Snippets was born. Arturo married a model, had a bambino, and the entire Sebastiani clan often appeared en fami-glia in advertisements for the Snippets chain.
Everyone in the industry followed the adventures of Eve Sebastiani, Arturo’s only child and his successor in the business. She helped in refugee camps in Uganda, broke ground for AIDS hospitals in Kenya, and still found time to meet the Queen at Ascot. As time went on, Eve took on more and more of the decision-making responsibilities. But when had her path crossed that of Wynn’s? How long had they been an item? Was it possible my friends were reporting old news? Wynn had stayed at my place overnight just last week before flying out to Los Angeles for meetings at Vidal Sassoon headquarters.
Or so he said. The company headquarters had moved nearly twenty years ago. But I needed Wynn so much that I didn’t question him. Looking back, I’d been just as blind about Wynn as I’d been about Hank, but for different reasons. With Hank, I was young and stupid. With Wynn, I was needy and hurt. Ours was a typical rebound relationship, but I was too blind to see that at the time.
“Here.”
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