Miss Scarlet's School of Patternless Sewing (26 page)

“What’s wrong? This is what you’ve wanted, and you got it.”

Scarlet raised her knees, hugged them, and examined the grooves in the floor. “They want the dirt on Daisy,” she said.
“They’re calling her the original bad girl of fashion. They have this horrible info on her and they want me to piece it all together with timelines. And there’s a bonus if I can gather information on her early—quote, unquote—troubled days at Coconut Grove.”

“Oh,” Marco said, falling back on the bed. “Coconut Grove… that would mean…”

Scarlet turned to face him. “I’d have to sell out Rosa.”

I
n the far corner in the busy production room of Carly Fontaine Studio the next day, Scarlet wiped the sweat from her neck, reached across the cutting table, and raised the volume on her iPod. Her new playlist consisted of nothing but Sam Cooke. She ever so carefully removed a turquoise crepe de chine silk gown from the petite dress form and held it up to admire Carly’s design work.

Nice,
she thought. But if Scarlet had created the gown, she would have dropped the neckline and added a row of flat-back crystals to each layer of vertical ruffles. Scarlet knew that was why Carly kept her hidden in production and not design—Carly hated sparkle, like salt to a snail, even in eveningwear! Scarlet slipped the billowy dress over a velvet hanger and hung it on the rack for steaming. From the corner of her eye, she watched Carly cruise in her direction.

Carly slowed her pace when she reached Scarlet, giving her outfit a complete once-over. “Let me guess—today you are Natalie Wood in
Rebel Without a Cause
?”

Putting her hands on her hips, Scarlet smiled and smirked at the same time. “Nope. I put an end to Cinema Couture. This is one hundred percent Scarlet Santana.”

Thanks to Scarlet’s sisterfriends, as Olivia would say, forty fantastic Mexibilly Frocks were delivered to Carly Fontaine Studio that morning. Ready to be bought and paid for. Scarlet planned a party to thank her class as soon as she cashed the check. Maybe this order would garner her a bobbin’s worth of respect from Carly, and she’d be invited too.

“Good for you,” Carly said in lowercase emotion, removing her chunky white eyeglasses and gliding them to the top of her head. “Why did you bring the dresses?”

“Excuse me?” Scarlet asked. “Your e-mail about your client from Santa Fe. I have it in my inbox. You said—”

“She canceled. I texted you Monday. Did you not receive it?”

Scarlet whipped out her iPhone. She had been in a caffeine-induced trance all week, but she would never miss even a sneeze from Carly. She scanned all her incoming texts, but Carly’s didn’t exist.

“There’s no text,” Scarlet said, her voice going up a bit.

“Whoops, sorry about that. I could have sworn I sent it. At least you can sell them in your Internet store. Anyway, can you remove the items from the showroom on your lunch break?”

If Scarlet could confront her father, she thought, Carly would be like frosting on a cupcake.

“No. I can’t do that.”

The sound of a sea of sewing machines came to a halt as the production workers paused to listen.

“Carly,” Scarlet said, “I had a team of dedicated women help make those dresses in two days. They’re perfect. Better than perfect. You placed the order. I’m a designer and businesswoman just like you. You owe me the money for the invoice I left on your desk. I need it for my tuition payment for Johnny Scissors.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Carly snipped, confronting
Scarlet. “You were serious about Johnny Scissors? Why didn’t they call me as a reference?”

Scarlet moved the garment so it wouldn’t burn from being too close to the steamer. That poor dress didn’t deserve any further harm. “They did. Several times, but you didn’t call back.”

“How could they accept you without
my
recommendation?” Carly said, propping her elbow against an overstuffed fabric-supply cabinet. “You have zero notable experience. I run the biggest fashion house in Arizona, I should have some say in the decision. It’s just… ridiculous. We both know at least a dozen designers who deserve this more. They are properly educated and have invested years in their craft. I don’t mean to be rude, Scarlet, but I have to wonder about the motivation of the jury.”

“Maybe they saw something in me that you don’t,” Scarlet replied coolly as she finished the hem of the dress. “Not every person has to follow your formula in order to succeed.”

Carly let her head rest against the stacks of folded fabrics. “Ahhh, I know what’s up… the fifty-year anniversary of Daisy de la Flora. They chose you for the novelty of that shrine of a blog you have,” Carly replied.

“You would say that. Whatever the reason, I leave next month and I need payment for the dresses. Today.”

“I’m not buying your tacky crafty couture. If you were a sharp so-called businesswoman, you’d see that I didn’t place an order. I asked
if
you had them on hand. I said I’d cut you a check
if
the transaction went through. It did not, therefore I don’t owe you anything. And you’re lucky I don’t fire you after this confrontation. I’ll grant your time off for Johnny Scissors, but don’t come back expecting a promotion,” Carly said firmly. “Miss Scarlet may have scored a lucky pass from Johnny Scissors, but with me you’ll always be Scarlet Santana, the woman hustling for a short cut. I guarantee you won’t last a week in New York. Those
designers will outshine you ten-to-one in talent and expertise alone. You should save yourself, me as your boss, and Arizona from the humiliation and stay home. Let someone else who deserves it have a shot.”

In a moment of rage-infused self-empowerment, Scarlet turned off the steamer, covered the dress in a plastic bag, and handed it to Carly.

“I’m done here. This is my last shift. Forever,” Scarlet said.

“Smartest decision you’ve made in two years,” Carly said in her usual high-handed way. “I’ll send security to help you clean out your things. And the dresses as well. Think I’m tough? I dare you to take those frocks to Johnny Scissors and see what he has to say.”

Carly glanced at the gawking production team. She swung around on her black pointy heels, raised her chin like a queen who had just ordered a beheading, and high-stepped it out of the room.

Scarlet had always aimed to play fair, and gave things her best shot.
To hell with it,
she thought. If she wanted to get ahead in life, she had to take drastic measures. Just like Daisy. There would be explaining to Rosa, but she had to understand Scarlet’s predicament. Rosa lived her life and accomplished all her dreams; Scarlet deserved the chance to do the same.

Scarlet’s nostrils and nerves flared as she pressed Call Back on Nexa Shinenfeld’s entry on her phone list. She plugged one finger into her ear so she could hear over the hum of the sewing machines.

“Hi, Nexa, this is Scarlet Santana. I’ve had time to think about your offer. I’m ready to negotiate. I’ll divulge everything I know, plus I can find out more. I’ll even write the article if you want me to. Payment in full by this week or no deal. If you’re interested, here are the numbers you can reach me at…”

N
o one wanted to see Scarlet go. As she packed up the last of her items from the desk, her former coworkers gathered around to send her off with smiles and hugs, despite the tears many of them shed.

“It’s time, Miss Scarlet,” Barney, the normally frumpy security guard informed her as he lifted her box of unwanted Mexibilly Frocks and carried it out to her car for her. “Late-fifties-model Mercedes. This is one sweet ride. You’ve sure taken good care of it.”

Polishing the roof with the sleeve of her overcoat, Scarlet nodded in agreement. “Yes, sir. Mint condition. My nana gave it to me when she stopped driving. You know my tata used to take her out on dates in this car? After days like this, that happy energy sure comes in handy.”

“Always seeing the bright side,” Barney said as he watched her get in the driver’s seat. “We’re sure gonna miss you around here, but you’re gonna be just fine.”

“Thank you.” She went to close the door, but he blocked her.

“Like I said, this is one sweet ride. You ever decide you want to sell it, you let me know.”

Scarlet waved good-bye to Barney and the Carly Fontaine
Studio parking lot for the last time. As soon as her tires hit the asphalt of Roosevelt Street, Scarlet knew there were only two ways to calm her soul: sewing… or Marco. Scarlet intended to reach Vega’s Vicious Vinyl without any interruptions.

Fighting against the sharp, windy chill outside, she parked Nana’s Mercedes and hoofed it down the sidewalk in her 1930s T-strap pumps and ivory trenchcoat. She used all her strength to swing open the glass door to the sewing room. Then she paused, pleasantly puzzled at the scene before her: Rosa and Mary Theresa giving Marco a sewing lesson while loud mambo music blared from the stereo. If she didn’t know better, she’d think they were having a party without her.

Their faces lit up when she entered, excited to hear about the big dress sale. Scarlet didn’t have the heart to tell them right away. So she kept the secret inside and snuggled her way onto Marco’s lap, gripped his neck, and gave him a long kiss.

“No wonder his eyes are sparkling today,” Rosa said proudly, as if he were her son.

Mary Theresa appeared pleased for them as well. A part of her wished it were she and Hadley.

Scarlet kissed Marco’s nose and swung her legs cheerily, as if life were swell. As if she hadn’t just lost her job, her shot at paying for Johnny Scissors, and possibly a career in fashion.

“What brings you all here on a Wednesday night?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“My mom took the kids shopping,” Mary Theresa explained. “I couldn’t handle being cooped up alone, so I thought I’d change my scenery. Apparently this is where the action happens. I walked in on Rosa
dancing
with Marco.”

“Oh, really? You’re already trying to make me jealous, are you?” Scarlet said, poking Marco in the chest. She winked at Rosa.

“Did Carly pay you?” Rosa asked, steering the conversation to a serious direction.

Scarlet cautiously stepped down from Marco’s lap and removed her coat. “I have a bit of bad news about that….”

After Scarlet gave them the scoop, the women and Marco were furious at Carly. Mary Theresa suggested Scarlet call her out on her blog. Rosa was tempted to ask Joseph to drive her over there to tell the woman off. But neither suggestion was Scarlet’s way of doing things.

“I’m not dwelling on Carly anymore. What’s done is done,” Scarlet said. “I have some other ideas up these sleeves.”

Marco crouched forward in his chair like a military strategist. “We’ll find another way. I’ll come by tonight and put the dresses up for sale on your Etsy page. We can also put some for sale in the shop. You can blast it out on your blog.”

“Even if they did sell, I’m still short by a mile,” Scarlet muttered, thinking about the phone message she left for the
Fashion Faire Weekly
writer. Scarlet currently had an unopened voice mail from the woman, plus two e-mails she refused to look at. Her biggest fear was that Nexa would give the go-ahead to Scarlet’s demands. At the time Scarlet left the message, she couldn’t control her anger. But now that she had cooled down, she was having second thoughts about selling little old Rosa down the river.