March 2nd 2016

This is rather long and unedited. You have been sufficiently warned :) Sarah x

~*~*~

"I did a bit of Googling and found out that the last of today's Paris Fashion Week shows was at eight, French time. Which is seven British time. That was almost three hours ago, so it's almost eleven in the night with you over there. Are you free to talk?"

"Hi, Daniel."

"Um, hi, Soph. So are you, free to talk?"

"Haha, yes, I am. So, you Googled Fashion Week, did you?"

"Well, I had to. It's late and you hadn't called me yet, so I was going to call you instead but I didn't know when you'd be free. What's a guy to do?"

"Google it, apparently. For your information, I'll have you know that I was just about to call you. I've literally walked through the door, taken off my shoes and was about to ring when my phone started to vibrate obnoxiously on the bedside table."

"I wasn't sure if you were going to call."

"When have I not called?"

"True."

"Did you miss me, Daniel?"

"Maybe, slightly."

"I knew you loved me."

"Absolutely."

"Before I forget, thanks for texting through your measurements. I've got someone scouring all the Parisian stores for your outfit."

"Please don't say it like that. It makes me sounds like I'm a clothes horse."

"How would you prefer that I say it?"

"I don't know, clothes shopping?"

"Clothes shopping? No, sweetheart, that's not going to fly."

"I couldn't care less. Out of interest, though, what type of style are you going for?"

"Well, I was thinking a little Paul Smith, Tom Ford, Lanvin with a little McQueen in the mix, too. Don't worry, you'll look great!"

"Comforting."

"It should be. I have impeccable taste. I'll have on of my mother's minions come over and help style you for the show. I'll be working most of Saturday when you all arrive, so I probably won't see you up until the show."

"Minions?"

"It's what they call themselves- Maison Clément's Minions."

"Your mother's label is called Maison Clément?"

"God no! It's called Doré. It's French for 'gilded'."

"Cute."

"She has a 'sister' line, too called Le Papillon Doré. The Gilded Butterfly."

"Sounds nice."

"I suppose so. Her brand is extensive, though. Clothes, make up, shoes... it's all going on."

"I bet they all have different names, too."

"All equally stupid names, too. Miaou. It is literally what it sounds like."

"The noise a cat makes?"

"The exact same. That's her shoe line and the all have cat whiskers embossed on the soles of the shoes. Then there's Arc-en-ciel, or rainbow, to you and I. That's the make up line. Um... what else does she have? Oh, the handbags! Floraison. It means 'bloom' and they're always named after flowers- in French, obviously. Le Lys- The Lily- is this season's it bag."

"So, the show on Saturday is for...?"

"Doré. It's going to be rather extravagant... from what I've heard."

"How extravagant?"

"Who knows. All I know is that there's going to be a lot of black and gold, if the invitations are anything to go by. Plus, this is Camille Clément we're talking about. My mother doesn't do half measures of anything."

"Sounds like... fun?"

"Too late to back out now, Whitaker."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep, you're shit out of luck, mate."

"Great."

"Haha. It'll be fine. As long as you stick with me or Emma."

"Not Charlotte?"

"Well, if you want to get arrested in Paris, go ahead and hang out with Charlotte."

"Arrested?"

"It wouldn't be Charlotte's first rodeo. She's a little wild child once she's crossed the English Channel. French Charlotte is so much more fun than English Charlotte, but there's always a downside. Last time, I think she was arrested for public... I want to say intoxication but I think it was for public indecency."

"What?!"

"She wasn't charged, or anything. Just held overnight. Her and that German Prince she was dating at the time."

"German Prince?"

"He's not actually a prince, per se. He's got the title, but he's not a real member of royalty. It's like a throwback to when Germany actually had a Royal Family, that's all. Still, Alexander is a playboy in Europe and is constantly making headlines for being a party animal. I think the whole arrest thing is why Charlotte now goes by Delaney and not Clément."

"What does a change in surname have to do with it?"

"As Camille Clément's daughter, you're over exposed in Europe. My mother is a big name in France and as such, in French society. Her daughters are equally well known, all because of the name. By using our real surname, we get by anonymously in France. Charlotte Delaney could be anyone in Parisian circles. But Charlotte Clément? Everyone knows who that is."

"That must be like living in a fish bowl and everyone can see you."

"That's why none of us live here. Charlotte gave it a try for a while in her early twenties, but after the whole arrest thing, she quickly moved back to London. Emma's always been a New York kind of girl, though."

"I can't imagine what it's like to be in the public eye that much. I mean, yes, I have a title and what not, but no one really cares about that. You, on the other hand... that's rough."

"You learn to deal with it. And thank God we're only in the fish bowl for a couple of weeks out of the year."

"Yeah, but... that's mental."

"You'll have a taste of it on Saturday. I should warn you- if you get photographed with either one of us Clément girls, your face will be plastered all over every single media outlet in France, so tell me now if you want a separate car to pick you up form Gare du Nord."

"When you say 'plastered-'"

"I mean, your face will be everywhere and everyone will know your name by Saturday lunch time. By Saturday evening, they'll have your whole life story running on the gossip websites."

"Yeah, in that case, a separate car sounds good."

"No worries, I'll sort it out tomorrow for you."

"Thanks. I don't think I can deal with being famous, even if it's in France."

"Don't worry about it. Over here, there are pretty strict privacy laws so if there's a hint of rumours surfacing, I'll get that ridiculously pricey lawyer on the phone."

"Which lawyer?"

"Have you heard of Philip Grey?"

"Hasn't everyone in the law world?"

"I'm not in the law world, so I wouldn't know."

"He's like the Big Bastard of Law. No one wants to cross him, or come up against him. It's career suicide."

"No wonder he's expensive."

"Is he the one that sorted out all your troubles with your ex boyfriend?"

"Yes. Don't get me wrong, Philip is lovely, but he's pretty intimidating."

"I know."

"Wait a second! Don't you two work at the same firm?"

"That we do. How else would I know to keep clear of him?"

"Because apparently everyone in the law world has heard of him."

"Touché."

"Anyway, you'll be ok if anything about you crops up in the press. Don't want people getting the wrong end of the stick about our friendship."

"No, we wouldn't want that."

"So, separate car it is. I'll get the details from Emma tomorrow. I need to phone her about something else anyway."

"Thanks. Let me know how much the bill for the car is and I'll write you a cheque."

"I'll bill it to my mother's company. Or my father's. Depends on my mood at the time."

"Sophie, I'd like to pay for the inconvenience I'm causing."

"Oh, you will because on Saturday, you will wear whatever I tell you to wear. That's payback enough for me."

"I think I prefer paying in cold hard cash."

"Tough shit."

"I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

"What do you think?"

"I have giving in, but... ok, have it your way, Clément."

"Whoop, win for me!"

"At the risk of sounding like a middled aged man, I'm tired."

"Me too. I'm an hour ahead of you, remember."

"Not that you need beauty sleep, but I bet you're dying to sleep on a cloud."

"It's not a real cloud, but the bed is rather comfortable."

"Then I shall let you go, Sleeping Beauty."

"Oh, if only you could see me now. I look like Shrek."

"You could always send me photo. You seem to like doing that mid conversation."

"I am not sending you a photo of me looking like Shrek!"

"Shame. I was dying to see that."

"I guess you'll just have to die, then."

"Whoa! Harsh, much?"

"A little, perhaps. Sorry."

"You better be. Remember that I'm spending about two an a half hours on the train with your sisters on Saturday. By the time I arrive in Paris, I'll be armed with several stories about you that I can use against you."

"I really am sorry, Daniel."

"Apology accepted. Now, go to sleep. Speak to you tomorrow."

"Thanks. Sweet dreams."

"Isn't that supposed to be the guy's line?"

"I'm all for equality for the sexes."

"In that case... Night, night. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"Haha. Bye, Daniel."

"Bye, Soph."