Starless Nights (Hale Brothers Series Book 2) (21 page)

“Did you invite Beau?” Ali asks.

“No.” Ali frowns, and out of the corner of my eye I see Camille watching us. Ali just stares at me.

“Speaking of Beau, what’s his story?” Camille asks with a little too much interest.

Both Ali and I look at each other, neither one of us says anything, and Camille looks back and forth between the two of us.

“Oh, I see. For the record, I’m not interested in dating him. More or less I was just curious.”

She looks at me and gives me another one of her genuinely beautiful smiles.

“Besides, he made it pretty clear that he wasn’t interested either.”

Wait, did she hit on him? Whatever, if he wasn’t interested in her that’s all I need to hear. Relief washes over me and I smile back at her. She sees my smile and that’s her cue to continue.

“Not to sound conceited or anything, but I know I’m not bad to look at. I get hit on at least ten times a day, which makes it easy to spot the good ones. It’s the guys who go out of their way to make it known that they are not looking for a quick hookup, that makes my heart happy for the girl on the other end. And there is always one on the other end, whether they know it or not.” She tilts her head to look at me more closely.

“You followed him out the other night, why?” I had to ask. I had to know.

“Because I hate being outside in the dark by myself. He hailed us a cab and had the driver drop me off in front of my building.”

“Well, you picked the perfect guy to take you home. Beau loves the dark and being outside at night,” I say to her.

She shakes her head at me like I’m crazy and shivers. Like Beau, I’ve always loved the night time too. I can’t imagine not being able to sit outside and look at the stars. I guess that everyone has that one thing that scares them. I used to think I was fearless, that is, until we lost our home and everything. Now I fear having nothing. No money, no home, no way to pay for school, just all of it. I’ve lived and seen how quickly things can turn south and go bad, and I never want to live through that again.

“Leila, are you sure you didn’t invite Beau to go to the show?” Ali asks again.

“Yeah, I’m sure. The only address I gave to BLK was yours.”

“Huh.” She looks confused and I’m about to ask her why, but Camille jumps in.

“So, tell us about the models. I always wanted to be a model, but I am way to short.”

“I actually got to sit in on the interview process at BLK this week for the models and I learned a lot. There were three different directors there that would be working the show, one person from marketing, me, and of course Brandeth—who is BLK. She is so nice. I kind of expected her to be a little haughty, but she wasn’t like that at all.”

“BLK are her initials?”

“Yep, pretty brilliant if you think about it. From a marketing stand point, she gets the uniqueness of black, which is what most people think it stands for, and then her name.”

“Her logo is pretty awesome. Now to me, except for skin color, all of those runway models look pretty much the same. How does selection work? What did you do to interview them?”

“Mostly, the people from BLK were looking at their knees, ankles, and neck. You would think that they are all pretty similar, but once they started pointing out the differences, I saw it immediately with all of them. Another thing that the directors were looking for was personality. Anyone can walk an outfit down the runway, but to BLK, they were looking for spark and genuine interest in being there. Brandeth said that it’s these models who can own the outfits, they give them extra life. We must have interviewed 300 models, and the ones who came in with blank expressions, nothing behind the eyes, just there to do the walk, they didn’t even get considered.”

“This whole process to me is crazy.” Camille’s watching me and shaking her head in disbelief.

“I know, right? Usually, there are twelve to fifteen models per show, but BLK decided that we should have twenty. For my collection they will only dress once, there won’t be a change of outfits, but I do believe that there will be for BLK.

“What are you most excited about?” Ali asks.

“I think what I’m most excited for is how the energy of the audience and the excitement of introducing something so new, fresh, and never seen before makes me feel alive. It can be very rewarding, as I suppose it is with any artist who is showing their work to an audience for the first time. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been to a fashion show,” I look at Camille and she shakes her head, “But when the music starts and the models line up, it’s like you know something great and magical is about to happen. Backstage can be chaotic, hectic, and just downright nerve racking, but as soon as the first model hits the runway it’s an intoxicating moment.”

“Wow.”

“A couple of days ago, Vogue came to my studio for the interview and to shoot a few pictures of the ensembles, but that part is kind of boring. Yes, it’s exciting to know that I’m going to be in Vogue, but it’s editorial and it’s delayed. The person they sent over raved about the pieces, which was wonderful to hear, but that’s just one person. The excitement doesn’t come until the magazine is released to the world, and even then, it’s me standing on the street corner by myself. During the show, you can feel the buildup of the anticipation from the crowd, and it’s an instant gratification that floods through you at a live event.

A waitress walks over, sets down the three tiered tray and refreshes our pot of tea. My grandmother introduced me to different delicious types of teas when we lived with her and I’ve loved them ever since.

“So, something really awesome that BLK is doing this year, they will be streaming the show live and giving the fashion bloggers an extra hour after the show for any questions that they have. It’s so crazy how much the industry is expanding due to the bloggers, and all of the ones that I have met are just so nice.”

“Where is the show going to be?” Camille asks.

“This year BLK has decided to break out of Lincoln Center and put up a tent back in Bryant Park. The show used to be there. They moved it in 2010.”

“I remember my mom saying something about them moving it. My mother is a southern socialite and uses my father’s political connections to help her stay in the know with fashion. Heaven forbid she wear something that’s currently not in season. But that’s here nor there, I think it’s amazing that they are moving locations to the park.” There was a slight edge to her tone when she mentioned her mother that makes me sad for her. I love my mother.

“A lot of designers have been branching out to different locations, but this one has definitely created a buzz.”

“Did you tell your mom? Is she going to watch the show?” Ali asks as she takes a sip of her tea.

“Oh, Aunt Ella bought a projector and they are closing the café to have a private ‘fashion party’ of their own. I think they are dressing up and serving champagne.”

“Ahh, that’s fun. I love your aunt. Drew and the guys love her too.”

“She is pretty amazing. I hope everyone likes the show.”

“How could they not? You’re crazy, I don’t know why you are worried. Your designs are brilliant,” Ali says to me.

“So the twenty models will walk one at a time, then the entire collection will come out all at once at the end of the show, and then me. Some designers just wave, others walk the runway. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet. Most people would probably be excited about this, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid of falling on my face.”

“Leila, for as long as I have known you, you’ve always worn tall fancy shoes. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I hope not.”

“Well, I think we should toast,” says Camille. She raises her glass and we follow suit. “Here’s to you, Leila, may your show be flawless and may all your dreams come true.”

“Thank you Camille, and here’s to new friends.”

Her smile stretches from ear to ear.

Giggling, the three of us clink our glasses together.

CLIMBING OUT OF the cab at Bryant Park, I am awed by the grandiose production that is taking place before me. I knew that Fashion Week is a big deal here, but all of this is just wow.

Drew and Ali are already waiting for me as I approach the grill. He hands me a beer and Ali’s eyes light up.

“Oh my god! I forget how nicely you clean up.” She smiles at me.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Tiny.”

Drew forcefully shoves me in the arm while scowling at me.

“Really?” I say to him.

Ali giggles and his expression relaxes. He clinks his bottle with mine and we raise them in a silent toast.

“So, have you talked to her at all?” I ask Ali.

“No, not since last weekend. BLK pretty much swooped in and took hostage of her. I do know that she is equally excited and nervous about today.”

“She’ll be fine. She always is and I’m certain what she’s put together will be amazing.”

Ali tilts her head and I can see that she wants to ask questions, but she won’t today.

“I’m still surprised she sent me a ticket. I honestly didn’t expect to get one.”

Neither she or Drew say anything. I take a swallow of the beer and look at all the chaos going on across the street. We wait about fifteen more minutes and then decide to make our way over.

Walking up to the entrance of the tent, there are a lot of people standing around: assorted celebrities, fashion press, fashionistas, bloggers, buyers, and spectators. The paparazzi are swarming and snapping photos of just about anyone and everyone.

“Beau, did you know that the first fashion show was held in 1943, because fashion experts at the time could not travel to France to see the French shows during World War II.”

“Tiny, did you know that bikini designer Louis Reard said a two-piece bathing suit couldn't be called a bikini "unless it could be pulled through a wedding ring."

“Of course a guy would say something like that.”

I smirk at her.

“I’m impressed you did your fashion homework.”

“I couldn’t come here empty handed.”

Handing the invitation over, the three of us are ushered down a black carpet that stops in front of a wall with the Mercedes-Benz logo splattered around and a photographer. The three of us pose together and then the guy laughs as I hand over my cell phone. I want a picture of us too. It’s not very often we get so dressed up.

Once inside the tent, it’s broken down into three sections. There is the main center room where the catwalk is set up for the show and then there are two smaller sections, one off to each side. On the left is where the cocktail party is and on the right it’s called The Gallery, and will be open after the show for spectators to wander through and look at the designs presented.

A gong rings throughout the tent alerting everyone that the show is about to begin. As Ali and I follow behind Drew and make our way to our seats, waiters appear handing out champagne. The runway isn’t your typical catwalk. It’s shaped more like a horseshoe, allowing photographers access to the middle.

There are about 400 white wooden chairs strategically placed around the runway. As we sit down in our front row seats, several people point and frown at us. I’m certain these seats are prestigious, and now that we are here it would take a team of wild horses to drag me away.

Once everyone is in their seats, the lights dim . . .

“BLK proudly presents ‘Rising Designer’ Leila Starling.” All the lights in the room go out leaving it pitch black except for the ceiling. Tiny stars are projected onto the roof of the tent, which has been covered in large swags of black fabric. The illusion she’s created of being outside at night is spectacular and I gasp at the sight. Ali must hear me because she reaches over and squeezes my leg.

Very faintly music from Modern Symphony fills the air and as the music grows louder. Leila’s name comes into view on the both sides of the runway on the back wall. Her name is done in an elegant script and is surrounded by three shooting stars. I know that there’s no coincidence in the three stars, but I can’t help to think about the summer triangle.

Staring at her name on the wall, which has now become her brand, a lump forms in the back of my throat and my eyes begin to burn. I know that I am witnessing what is going to be a very long and successful career for her. I’m so proud of her.