Open House (Epilogue Three)

Home Office (Epilogue 4)

Sometimes a Tailor cannot quite provide what a client needs, and at this point another Tailor is usually what they need. This is why there are networks within even our small community to reach out and get aid from each other.

This is something like a medical group practice reaching out to another, as both will have a Tailor as the leader, with a half dozen or more other experts working with that Tailor, akin to specialists working under the umbrella of a Medical Administrator or General Practitioner who leads the practice.

And much like similar groups, petty disputes can kick up out of nowhere. Especially around any major Fashion Week. There are still hurt feelings after Paris, 82 and the infamous Tailor Brawl.”

Phantastique, secrets of the Tailor’s Trade

Michelle Royce was organizing the paperwork for the coming fashion events of the new year, sorting through the itineraries and hotel reservation confirmations she or Cassidy had arranged. Fashion was an art, but the fashion industry was as much a slogging bureaucracy as any other business culture. Just with better shoes.

When the work phone, a cellular phone dedicated to Cassidy’s business identity, rang she picked it up curiously. The number wasn’t familiar, but she answered. “Cassidy Maynard’s offices, how may I help you?”

“Hello, my name is Elizabeth Summers,” The woman on the other end of the line said, her voice a cultured, but not quite posh, British. “I would like to talk to Ms. Maynard about doing some evening wear and other bespoke outfits, it is a bit of a rush to set up for a party in a couple of weeks, and I do apologize, But I wasn’t expecting Kriegsmarine to just drop by.”

Michelle took the phone from her ear and stared at it for a full second. Kreigsmarine, the most powerful super-villain on the planet, wasn’t usually the inspiration for eveningwear. “Well, that's... certainly a lot to unpack." The assistant said. "May I ask who gave you our contact information? We're not publicly listed, for obvious reasons."

The other woman sounded amused, and Michelle was punching her name into the computer trying to remember why the name was familiar. “Of course! My publicist Zakai, from EpicEmblem, recommended her to me. I, apparently, am going to be hosting a white glove event in the next couple of weeks.”

It didn’t take much to pull up the identity of the person calling, or at least who they were claiming to be. Solaris, the Bombproof Bombshell, The Original Girl. That’d be a good name to drop to get through the gatekeeping process. But Michelle had worked for years with Cassidy she knew the importance of confirmation. "Could I perhaps get your number to call back? It should only be perhaps twenty minutes, but I need to track Cassie down in the building."

“Of course.” The English woman gave her number clearly and slowly, correcting herself to add the area code. “Please let me know either way, so if she can’t do it, I can ask my Tailor for other recommendations.”

"Of course, we wouldn't want to leave anyone hanging." Michelle agreed.

After hanging up, she hurried over to the elevator with the work phone still in hand. She was scrolling through the contacts list, finding their own contact with EpicEmblem’s number and calling it as she hit the up button for the St. Guinefort school’s ancient elevator.

“Michelle, how are you? In the thick of Fashion Week planning?”

“Hey Terrance, we’re aiming for a New York show in Febuary, so with how my boss works she’s not even stressed yet.” She laughed. Terrance, never Terry, was the fashion maven for EE, and instead of belonging to one of their specific client teams, was a floater to help with putting the right stylists with the right clients for the agency.

That means he’d know if the call was legit. “We just got a call out of the blue, and I wanted to check if it was legitimate. Elizabeth Summers, Solaris. Something about Kreigsmarine?”

“Oh! You’ve not been watching the news, have you? Yeah, the Living Dreadnaught decided to sail up with his little aircraft carrier, and then fly the rest of the way in to do meetings with NATO and the UN, which everyone knows is probably just window dressing.”

“So, her call is legit?”

“I got a message from one of our team leaders a couple of weeks ago asking about stylists when she was ready for the social set, and you were on the short list for her. Let me send a quick message over to their contact liaison.” Less than a minute passed. “Yep, they gave your bosse’s name, since it’d be a rush job.”

“That is kind of her specialty. Thanks for confirming it. You know how it is with security for Tailors.”

“Especially the publics. I know. Have fun with this project, I understand she’s relatively easy to work with.”

“Thanks again, Terrance.”

As they’d talked, she’d boarded and ridden the elevator up from the floor where her own dedicated office and workspace was, and stepped off into the large, open area used for much of Cassidy and her own work, along with the interns Cassidy was working with.

“Honey, I’m not angry you went off to do something silly while I was on that buying trip with Michelle, but if I find out you didn’t do your research… again…” She heard Cassidy’s voice, spotting her next to the couch that Carl, her husband, had claimed for most of the time since they’d been back with his broken foot.

“I promise, it wasn’t anything big. We did research, on route and nothing really hinted at… accidents being likely.”

“Right. Accident. When you should have been wearing a boot rated for a point-blank shotgun blast.”

Much as Michelle loved watching Carl squirm, not out of dislike but because he still hadn’t outgrown that gawkiness that made him look rather funny when he was caught out, she interrupted. “Cassidy, we got a call. A potential new client.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Really? Who could be reaching out now? The stuff for the big Thanksgiving and Christmas season events should already have been arranged and drawings getting approval.”

“That is out of the blue. Maybe it’s a new kid on the block?” Carl suggested.

Michelle shook her head. “Very much the opposite. I checked before I came, because it was a surprise call, and Terrance confirmed it. Solaris reached out, and apparently is going to need some rush work done. At least one white tie event, and possibly involving the sort of people that would show up for Kreigsmarine appearing.”

“Kilian Von Volkhard? That Kreigsmarine? They did have some weird history back in the day.” Cassidy stood up, pacing a bit. “Solaris, and it’s legit?”

Carl and Michelle watched her, as she sped up, zipping back and forth fast enough to cause a good breeze. They glanced at each other, amused.

Her boss’s office was filled with memorabilia of hero fashion, as befit her work, but most of it was vintage images or items of Solaris. Elizabeth Summers had been a serious fashion plate and non-Hollywood bombshell with stunning looks, a good public voice, and relatively low-key public personality.

Also, the tiny speedster had long realized that she could pass for Solaris’s sister, with the only major differences being a smaller chest measurement that left Cassidy getting asked if she was a teenager often enough to be annoying.

“I told her we’d call back, once I tracked you down.”

“Right. Yes. Go back to the office, I’ll meet you down there. Carl, I…”

He laughed at her. “Honey, I know you. You’re going to want to do this. I can travel, so I’ll just go with you to New York. Then you can grill me in your spare time.”

“And where we don’t have to fear you blaming us.”

“Shut up Ryan.” She yelled, throwing a pillow across the room at the laughing man. There wasn’t really any heat in the words. A broken foot was a minor injury for what the trio tended to get up to, sometimes with Cassidy making four, but the stylish speedster tended to assume the other three would forget proper preparation if she wasn’t around.

“Honey, I was using that pillow.” Carl said, now spilled out on the floor.

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry.”

She was slightly better organized than the others. There was a reason she had Michelle working for her.

Michelle was laughing as she dialed the phone. “Hello” came from the cultured British voice on the other end. “

"She'll be here in just a moment. She may have... unintentionally unseated her husband from their couch."

"It's not my fault he's slower than usual." The seamstress said, louder than she’d likely intended. The tossing pillows at people was pretty standard for the tiny, empowered woman.

Cassidy took the phone, adopting her professional tone. "Good evening, this is Cassady Maynard. I was told I am speaking to Solaris? Full disclosure, we called your press agency before returning the call, if they mention it."

“Yes, this is Solaris. I don’t mind, I don’t have the history with your shop the way I do with Phantasique’s. I’m guessing Zakai was waiting for your call as quick as you were able to get back to me.”

“He was. Of course, considering what happened when I dressed that TV star for them." She sighed. "But we like the new bus better, anyhow. Now, my understanding is you need something for a white glove dinner party that will have the Living Dreadnaught present? Should I also assume other dignitaries are likely to show up?"

“Yes. Zakai hasn’t sent me the guest list yet, but I’d assume at least some bigwigs from the MLB. Probably someone from the Guardians and St Nicks.”

"I'd expect more will be suggested. And perhaps offices contacting you when they find out. Kreigsmarine is notoriously prone to not leaving the islands, so expect to also get invitations to other parties while he's in town. I'll be shocked if you don't have messengers by morning." Cassidy knew how the Cape culture worked.

The best way to draw a reclusive hero or not quite villain was to invite any archenemies they might have to an event. Granted, it increased the need for either security or strong event insurance, but it was also oddly successful. While Elizabeth Summers and Lord Kilian Von Volkhard were known to have a reasonably non-hostile relationship on paper, they were also known to have hit each other with strange and unusual portions of local geography in the past as well. They kind of fit the bill.

“Good point. Penny, can you ask Nahoa to do extended hours for a bit, someone is going to try and jump the fence.” The older heroine said to someone near her, then returned to the phone conversation. “Sorry. Now do you think you have time to work with me? I do know it is short notice.”

"I'm working on my New York Fashion Week line, but that’s not till February so I have plenty of time, though I'm also working on finding... never mind, that's not important. I am not in the weeds yet, so I can take the time to do a bespoke project. Or three, if they're for one client." She chuckled. "I will book a flight and come out by tomorrow afternoon. I'm assuming you don't need me to just Marathon myself over there."

“No. No reason to do that unless you want to avoid the hell of commercial flight. I’d offer my plane, but I think my toymakers have stolen it for refits.”

What Cassidy would give to see those refits. "Yeah, if you fly me out on a private, you better want more than just a few dresses honey. That's too fancy for me to be lazy." A bit of urban California worked its way into her voice as she laughed. "That being said, I usually sketch the entire time I'm on a flight. Granted, makes my carry on basically a stack of sketch books, but I tend to lose track of time during the flight."

“Better that than the food. I’ll put you up in one of the guest rooms. It’s the least I can do. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

"There's nothing I'm allergic too, and I don't have any religious convictions." she said. "That being said, I believe you've worked with speedsters in the past?" She chuckled. It was a universal truth that speedsters did not do tapas.

Solaris laughed, “Yes, several including Breakneck and Hummingbird.”

"Then I feel safe in saying large portions are an understatement." She chuckled. "I also will need someplace to set up my workspace."

“Can I come too? I’d love to meet an actual legend.” Carl said.

"And my husband is asking if he can accompany me. He's recovering from a rather rough series of events, recently."

“Of course, you can set up in the guest office, and if you need more space, you can use the library off the media room. Your husband is welcome, I hope he is not too unwell.”

"Apparently he was attacked by an alligator while helping a realtor examine a house in northern Wisconsin. I'm still trying to get him and the other two to admit to what they were actually doing."

Solaris blinked. "Isn't Wisconsin a bit chilly for Alligators? It sounds like it will be an interesting story.”

"Yeah, especially since the three of them, and their new friend, came back with four vintage motorcycles and no explanation for them. They did another urban exploration, villain edition, and didn't tell me before and now don't want to tell me what happened since he broke his foot. Ryan thinks I'll drown him. I mean, he's right but only since I know he can't actually drown." She paused, frowning at the five hundred gallon enchosure in the corner. “Plus pretending we didn't all see his new gecko throw its tail to blow up the blender yesterday, there is basically just a ticking timer on them giving up and telling me what actually happened."

"So, are you more upset they had an adventure without you, or that your husband managed to break himself in the process?"

"That they think they can act so nonchalant. It means they did something ridiculous and think I'll be angry. They're only right if they really screwed up." She laughed. " Well, that, and I didn’t get a motorcycle out of the deal! I know, the speedster doing the adulting isn't the default assumption, but I actually control my ADHD."

"You’re old enough to be a grown up. that means a bit more with speedsters." Solaris said. " Why don't you go get packed. Send me the flight details and I'll have someone pick you up at the airport. I look forward to seeing you."

"Will do. give me your email and I'll forward all the details there." They exchanged the information, and the call ended.

“Right, so Michelle, could you make the usual arrangements for the flight for me and Carl? I’m going to go pack The Rig. Carl, I know you aren’t moving really well but could you pack us a few days of clothing and my blank sketch kit?”

“I can do that with one leg, no problem.”

“I’ll call American Airlines.”

The stylish speedster smiled at her friends, before moving over to the work area. She had to pack her portable autoloom, embroidery equipment, and sewing kit. “OMG! Solaris….EEEH!” She squealed spinning around in joy. Now who do I know in New York to get fabric and ballistic cloth from? Sam! He’s still working out of Manhattan!”