Because Fat Girl

Chapter Ten

Drew turned around on the pedestal in the private dressing room, examining his new suit. “Damn, I’m good-looking.”

“And modest, too,” I said, tugging on his jacket sleeve to check the fit. Drew had arrived the next day exactly on time, full of excited energy and greeting me like we were besties.

“Who would have known light gray was my color?” He admired himself in the mirror, tugging on his cuffs like he was James Bond.

“I would have.” I smiled smugly.

“Now who’s the modest one?” Drew smirked. “Well deserved, though. You’re really good at your job.”

“I look forward to the day people say that about my movies, not my ability to pick out clothes.”

“I might be able to say that about your movie if you’d send me the script like I asked you to,” Drew replied.

“It’s not ready,” I lied, hanging up a shirt Drew had passed on. It took until three in the morning, but I’d polished my draft up enough that I felt comfortable sharing it with him. A freshly printed copy was tucked away in my bag; all I had to do was reach over and pull it out. Instead, I picked up the phone and called down to alterations, and then to Janelle, asking her to bring up some shoe choices.

“I don’t need alterations,” Drew said when I got off the phone. “And I’ve got plenty of shoes.”

“Yes, you do, and no, you don’t.” I changed his pocket square out for a more colorful one. “Where are you taking this suit for its debut?”

“I’ve got a hot date next weekend,” he shared, a joyous smile crossing his face.

“That’s fun.” I wondered which actress or model he was dating these days, but years working at Roussard’s had taught me not to pry. Besides, why should I care who Drew Williams dated? Instead, I handed him a purple tie to try.

“I’m really excited about it.” He hooked the silk around his neck. “It’s with the most amazing woman in all of L.A. She’s smart, funny, accomplished, and gorgeous.”

“Sounds like a wonderful woman.”

Drew was glowing with excitement, and a part of me longed for someone, anyone, to talk about me the way Drew was talking about his date.

“She is. Although I’m partial.” He caught my eye and winked. “Since she’s my mom.”

“You’re buying a special suit to take your mom out on a date?” The shock in my voice must have shown on my face because Drew started laughing.

“I take her out about once a month.” He chuckled. “It’s her birthday, so I thought I’d surprise her this time with a fancy restaurant and new suit.”

“That’s adorable,” I gushed as I undid the purple tie, which didn’t work after all with his gray suit. “Tell me, do women fall for the mama’s boy thing?”

“Only my mom’s friends.” He ducked so I could loop a black tie around his neck. “And they’re all settled-down lesbians, so it doesn’t do me any good.”

“So you have a thing for lesbians, then,” I teased, tying a Windsor knot on him.

“I have a thing for feisty, independent, intelligent women,” Drew responded.

“Like I said, you have a thing for lesbians.” I backed up to admire my work.

“Ha, well, maybe you’re right.” Drew fidgeted with the knot. “I never could figure out how to do a Windsor. How’d you learn?”

“Fucked the debate team in high school,” I responded.

“I bet you had a nice grandpa. Liked ties on Sunday.”

“I’m going to have to start quoting more obscure films around you.” I held up two pairs of cufflinks for him to choose from.

“Come on, you can do better than that.” Drew chose the ones in my right hand. “ Pretty Woman is too easy. I know all the rom-coms. Try me.”

“‘I brought you flours .’” I emphasized the last word.

“ Stranger Than Fiction ,” he said, catching the reference.

“‘Well, nobody’s perfect,’” I tried.

“ Some Like it Hot ,” he guessed, correctly.

“‘Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.’” I made my voice sound like it was echoing through a stadium.

“ Sleepless in Seattle , but quoting Pride of the Yankees .” Drew smiled.

“Damn, you’re good,” I said, impressed.

“Mom’s a romance writer.” He shrugged. “Takes her job of educating me seriously.”

“I’d like to meet her someday. She sounds like a great woman.”

Drew turned to me, suddenly animated. “You should come next weekend!”

“To your mother’s birthday party?” I asked.

“Yes! She’d love to have you there.”

“Your mother doesn’t even know me,” I pointed out.

“Yet,” Drew added, “but I told her all about meeting you.”

“You told your mother about meeting me?” I asked, skepticism rising in me. “Why?”

“We saw Lalo’s Lament together,” he explained. “She loved it, too.”

I had no idea what to say to that. On one hand, it could be really fun to hang out more with Drew and meet this lesbian romance writer mother he loved so much. On the other hand, it could be really awkward crashing a stranger’s birthday party.

Luckily, Janelle arrived just in time to stop me from having to answer. Drew greeted her like an old friend, and she looked at him skeptically as she laid out his shoe options: black Bruno Magli leather cap-toe oxfords, dark gray Hugo Boss Kensington leather wingtip oxfords, and black Gucci leather fox head loafers with a gray stripe.

“The Guccis,” Janelle and I said in unison.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Drew asked.

“No,” Janelle answered, handing him the loafers.

Drew put them on as the tailor came in and got to work, pinning and tucking his suit until it fit him perfectly. Drew talked the whole time, asking Janelle about her recent projects and me about Cecily and the kids.

“He sure is acting friendly,” Janelle whispered to me when Drew went into the dressing room to change out of his suit.

“We actually hung out last night,” I admitted.

“And you’re just now telling me this?” Janelle grumbled, smacking me playfully on the shoulder.

“It was nothing,” I promised. “He came by to get a suit, but I was upset about a genderqueer kid’s mom being a total bitch to her child and me, so he invited me to putt-putt to cheer me up.”

“Putt-putt? Is that some slang I don’t know?” Janelle asked.

“Miniature golf,” I explained.

“You played miniature golf with Drew Williams?”

“We also rode the bumper boats,” Drew shouted from the dressing room, his voice muffled through the clothes he was trying on. “And ate fries with cheese.”

Janelle looked at me sideways and opened her mouth to say something, but Drew came out, back in the gray sweatpants he’d worn in.

“I’ll have alterations rush this.” I took his suit out of the dressing room and handed it to the tailor, who was patiently waiting by the door. “The event is next Saturday, correct?”

“Yes,” Drew replied.

“We’ll have it ready by Monday morning, sir.” The tailor handed Drew a receipt and headed out.

“You both should come,” Drew said as I packed up his accessories.

“Two invites in the last month,” Janelle chimed in. “Who knew Roussard’s was the place for hanging out with the rich and famous?”

“Emmy knew,” I said, handing Drew a pair of jeans and a shirt I’d pulled while the tailor was pinning his suit. “Go, try these on. I can’t have you leaving in those crusty old sweats.”

Drew protested that his sweats weren’t crusty but went and changed anyway.

“Since when do you care about his pants?” Janelle asked.

I shrugged. “I could use the commission, and he could use a few paparazzi shots of him that don’t include stained shirts.”

“I can hear you,” Drew said from the dressing room.

“That’s the point,” I shouted.

Janelle rolled her eyes as Drew emerged wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a light blue cotton tee that clung tight across his chest.

“Much better.” Janelle nodded in agreement.

“It’s still weird,” Drew said, staring at himself in the mirror.

“What?” I asked.

“Tight-fitting clothes,” Drew responded. “I wore baggy sweats for so long, I don’t know how to wear anything else.”

“And that’s why there are professionals like us to help you.” I handed him a few more casual outfit options to try on, reminding myself that while men might have it easier in this town, it’s still hard to be fat in Hollywood, regardless of gender. I could only imagine the tabloid images Drew had to deal with as a teen.

Janelle looked at her watch. “I should get back downstairs.”

“Wait, before you go”—Drew poked his head out—“where should I pick you up for dinner next Saturday?”

“I’m not sure I agreed to go.” Janelle cocked her head.

“You’re gay, right?” Drew asked.

“Sure am,” Janelle proudly replied.

“So are my mom and her friends. They’re great—strong, independent, queers, and women of color. They’d love some fresh blood. You’ve gotta be there.”

“We’ll think about it,” I cut in.

“Did I mention it’s at Dos?” Drew added. “And it’s my treat.”

“Holy shit,” I said. Dos was the hottest restaurant in town, impossible to get into, running about $250 a person. “I’m there.”

“I should just start off with the food options if I want you to come somewhere.” Drew laughed.

“It’s the only thing that gets her out of the house,” Janelle agreed.

“Send me that script of yours tonight,” Drew encouraged me. “I want to read it before dinner.”

“Why do you want her script?” Janelle asked, giving me the side-eye as she said it.

“To see if it would be a good fit for my new production company,” Drew responded casually, like he wasn’t offering some huge opportunity to me, one I wasn’t sure I deserved but desperately wanted.

Janelle turned rapidly toward me, annoyance on her face. “How did you not tell me any of this? And why haven’t you sent it to him?”

“It’s not ready,” I lied again.

“Bullshit,” Janelle spat, looking around the room. “Where is it?”

“What do you mean?” I avoided her eyes while my brain rapidly tried to decide whether it could handle handing my script over for Drew Williams to read.

“You act like we haven’t been best friends for a decade.” Janelle began rifling through the room, lifting sofa cushions. “I know you brought a copy with you. So where is it?”

Unconsciously, I glanced over at my purse, hidden behind the dressing room loveseat. Catching my gaze, Janelle walked over, opened my bag, and pulled out the printed copy of my script with a satisfied look on her face.

“Here you go, Mr. Williams.” She handed it over to Drew. “Your next big hit.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” I asked.

“Nope.” Janelle smiled smugly at me.

“Are you okay with this?” Drew asked me.

“Yes, she is,” Janelle answered for me and crossed her arms, daring me to object.

“I guess I am.” Nervous bile rose in my throat as I watched Drew flip through the pages.

“I’ll read through it and let you know what I think on Saturday when I pick you up,” Drew said. “Does five work for you?”

“Will you pick us up in a ridiculously long stretch limo, like prom?” Janelle asked.

“I’ll even get a white one to make it that much more ridiculous if you’d like,” Drew acquiesced.

“Sounds perfect.” Janelle took a pen out of my purse and wrote her address and our phone numbers on the back of the script. “You can pick us up at five here.”

“Great!” Drew exclaimed as he gathered his clothes. “I’m excited for you to meet my mom.”

He changed, paid, and enthusiastically said he’d see us next weekend as he waved goodbye.

“Why did I let you give him my script?” I asked as Janelle and I watched Drew maneuver gawking shoppers to get to the parking lot.

“Bitch, stop complaining. I just got you back into show business.” Janelle wrapped her arm around me. “You can thank me in your Oscars acceptance speech.”