by Gina LaManna
I let my clothes drop to the floor.
Lizabeth took one look at me and laughed. Which is exactly what every girl wants to hear when she strips down to her undies. Then again, if I’d been wearing undies, things might have been different. I wasn’t wearing underwear though, I was wearing some lime green bathing suit bottoms.
“I’m on my reserves here. Desperate times.”
“Anna, can we help her out here?” Lizabeth gestured to me. “I do have one question though, Lacey. How on earth did you fit jeans over those things? They’re so…frilly.”
I grinned because, after all, there was no better feeling in the world than taking off a pair of pants. It was freeing on a whole new level.
“Sorry,” I said to Anna the Seamstress. “I know I’m creating a lot of work for you.”
“It’s my job,” Anna said with another long sigh. She was very good at sighing. “Now spin around and suck in a breath. We’ll have you looking fabulous in no time.”
Chapter 26
“I shouldn’t have eaten that last croissant,” I said to Lizabeth. “Because I think it’s stuck in my rib cage. I can feel it.”
“Move carefully,” Anna said, spinning me around. “If you pop one of these threads, everything will fall off, and you’ll be wearing a whole other suit up on stage. No, not your bathing suit.”
I blanched at the idea of walking down the runway naked. It was the stuff nightmares were made of, and I’d been having plenty of nightmares about wedding stuff already, thank you very much. I did not need to add nudity to that list.
“Now, for the shoes.” Lizabeth held up something that looked like a circle with a two by four on top of it. High heels, really super high, except they were missing the heel. “What do you think of these?”
“I think that looks like I’ll break my legs. Both of them.” I frowned in horror at the thing. “I’ll probably have to replace my hip if I try walking in those.”
“How we doing in here?” Meg climbed into the trailer, having popped in and out the last few hours as the crew had shoved, poked, and prodded me into the dress. “Ooh, shoes! Let me see them puppies.” Before anyone could comment otherwise, Meg had shoved her foot into the shoe and stood up straight, at least a foot taller than everyone else in the room. “Love it.”
“Anything else for me?” I said. “Since those are obviously taken.”
A baby’s cry came from outside the trailer. Following the cry came some curse words interspersed with a lullaby and a few thunks. I made a mental note to never let Clay babysit my real baby because even a fake one was too much for him to handle.
“Is Arnold’s head still on?” I asked Meg. “Please tell me he’s still alive. I can’t have spent this long taking care of him, only to have him croak on me at the last second.”
“That’s Clay’s way of showing love,” Meg said. “I taught him that lullaby. The thunks…yeah, I don’t know about the thunks.”
I glanced at my feet. “What should I wear for shoes? I still have to call Anthony before the show starts. He should be landing soon.”
“The first show of the night starts in twenty minutes,” Lizabeth said. “We have one more hour to get ready and then it’s backstage. Anna, other shoe options?”
A few minutes later, the ladies had come up with a shoe that looked more like a slipper, except glittery.
“I can get on board with that,” I said.
“Keep your head high, and your chin up.” Lizabeth straightened like a Barbie, sashaying around the room just like Angelica. She looked like a floating angel. “Try it, Lacey.”
I grimaced.
“It goes like this.” Meg stomped around on her ginormous high heels. She didn’t float like an angel, but she didn’t fall either. Sort of trudged like a sleepy panda.
“Very good!” Lizabeth clapped. “Brava!”
Meg bowed with grand dramatic flourish, accidentally hip-checking a tray of sewing needles through the open window. “Whoops. Too much oomph.”
Anna sighed again. No surprise there. She had retired to a small desk and chair in the corner of the room and proceeded to blow out long, sad-sounding breaths for most of the evening.
“Your turn,” Lizabeth said to me. “Float, Lacey. Float.”
“Am I floating?” I took a few steps forward. I wobbled, and then I stuck out my arms and continued. “I think I’m floating!”
“Lacey, you haven’t moved.” Meg looked down at my feet.
I looked down. Sure enough, I hadn’t even lifted my foot. “Bummer,” I said. “It felt like a lot further than that.”
“Float.” Meg glided across the room, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. “Just like me.”
“Nope,” Anna said. “If you glide like her, you’ll fall off the stage and break your neck.” She stood up, glared at the three of us, and left the room in a flurry of pins and mutters about how maybe that wouldn’t be so bad after all.
I shook my head at Lizabeth. “I can’t do this. Even your seamstress hates me.”
“She dislikes everyone,” Lizabeth said with a smile. “But she’s the best at what she does.”
I took small steps across the floor, feeling like a baby giraffe just realizing it has legs. When I got a little stronger, I took bigger steps. After ten minutes, I felt like I was walking on clouds.
Eventually, Lizabeth said, “That’ll do,” and everyone cheered.
I exhaled in relief. “I really need to use the restroom,” I said. “That is possible, yes?”
“I’ll go with you,” Meg said. “I can help.”
The thought of Meg assisting me in the bathroom was not appealing.
“I’d like to call Anthony in private,” I said. “It’ll just take a second. And I’ll bring a gun.”
The last part was a lie, but when I turned to Lizabeth, she was smiling. “You’ll be okay?”
“You won’t even notice I’m gone,” I promised.
I didn’t really need to use the restroom, though it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea now that we were talking about it. I pulled the door open to the trailer, extended one daintily clad foot onto the first step—and missed the entire thing completely.
Skidding down the four stairs leading up to the trailer, I landed with a hurrumph and a grunt on the ground.
“Are you okay?” Clay dropped Baby Arnold, turned to me, and then watched as I tried to stand.
“Help?” I extended a hand, but Clay made me suffer for a little longer before reaching over and hauling me from the ground. “Is there any damage?” I spun in a slow circle, the dress shimmering as the lights glinted off the gems embedded into the silver fabric. “Please say no.”
Clay’s eyes widened and his face turned red. “Oh, no.”
My heart raced. “What’s wrong?”
“Lizabeth!” Clay hollered. “Help!”
Chapter 27
“Oh, dear.” Lizabeth poked her head out of the trailer. “Someone had a tumble?”
My face fell. “I might have.”
“It’s nothing…much,” Lizabeth said. “But come on inside for one second. Walk slowly, and don’t turn around.”
I backed toward the trailer, my ears reddening as I put two and two together. If Clay’s mortification hadn’t been enough of a clue, the sudden breeze over my legs—in a floor length dress—gave things away. I’d ripped the seat of the dress.
Thankfully, Anna returned seconds later, stitched me up, and shoved me into a pair of flip-flops.
I maneuvered the stairs like a professional the second time around, and I made it to the bathroom without incident. The line for the restrooms on the first floor was longer than I cared to wait, so I left in search of more stalls on the second level. That too was a half hour wait, so I climbed to the third level.
I pulled my phone out to call Anthony, trying to convince my pores that now was not the time to sweat. The makeup artist had already done her work. When I finally made it to the restroom, I paused in front of the sink, su
rprised by my reflection in the mirror.
Setting my phone on the counter, I did a slow twirl, double checking the stalls to make sure nobody was around. Finally certain that I was alone, I leaned closer, examining the person pretending to be Lacey Luzzi.
Shimmery silver eyeshadow covered my lids. A dab of color on my lips made me look alive, despite the pale powder covering my face. I felt a little like a lightning bug, my face glowing in the dim bathroom, my chest shimmering with something the makeup artist had called fairy dust.
Then there was the necklace. If the rest of my body shimmered softly, the necklace popped like a firework. The diamonds splashed across my skin, the unarguable centerpiece of the entire show.
Somehow, seeing the necklace reflected back gave me a wave of relief. The crowd wasn’t there to see me; they were waiting to see the necklace. As long as I figured out how to walk straight and keep my head above my feet, everything would be fine. I also had to figure out what to do with my face. Smile? Laugh? Frown? I made a note to ask Lizabeth.
While practicing a variety of dumb-looking smiles in the mirror, I finally dialed Anthony. “Hey you,” I said. “Show’s about to start. Where are you?”
“I’m getting on the Metro,” he said, as whooshing noises filled the background. “I’ll be there soon. Sorry, I’m going to cut out…on the train…”
“Anthony, wait!”
“Where can I find you?”
“I’ll be walking—” I didn’t get to finish before the dial tone sounded.
“On stage,” I muttered to nobody. I sent him a quick text instead, telling him that he could find me on the runway. I told him to call Lizabeth or Meg and they’d fill him in on the rest.
I was still typing away when the door to the restroom opened. “Oh, excuse me,” I mumbled, not looking up. I moved away from the door, still clicking away on my phone.
A female voice laughed. “You’re not in the way,” she said. “In fact, you’re just the person I wanted to see.”
Chapter 28
That caught my attention. I looked up in surprise to see Alessandra’s now-familiar face smiling back at me—so pretty and friendly. If I didn’t suspect her of stealing a bunch of necklaces, we might be friends.
“Hi,” I said carefully. “What brings you to the reject bathrooms?”
She looked over my shoulder into the mirror, and fixed her perfect hair. “Here for the show, of course. It looks like you are, too?” She flicked her eyes back to me and took in the gown, her eyes resting on the necklace. “Last minute change of plans?”
I nodded. Alessandra stood between me and the door, and even though she was petite, with a pleasant look on her face, I couldn’t help feeling intimidated. She stood close to me, too close.
“Relax!” Alessandra said cheerfully. “You’ll do great. You have no reason to be nervous. Oh, hang on one second, your hair is caught in your necklace.”
She stepped forward, and I flinched.
“May I?” She stopped, an alarmed note to her voice. She stood so close I could hear her breathing.
I wanted to say no, to slip past her and escape into the more crowded store, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. What if she was the thief, and she was armed? I wouldn’t make it more than two steps before she got to me.
Instead, I nodded. Clutching my phone tightly in my hand, my palms slick with sweat, I turned around slowly. I think my life flashed before my eyes. Staring at myself in the mirror, I waited and watched as she reached for the clasp.
“There,” she said, as I was envisioning my head shooting off like a rocket. “Your cute baby hairs were caught in the clasp. You’re free now.”
I met Alessandra’s gaze in the mirror. She was grinning.
“Better?” she asked. “That had to be pinching your scalp.”
Sure enough, a tugging sensation that’d been tickling my head had vanished. “That’s much better,” I said. “Thank you.”
She pointed to the necklace. “So you’re a model now?”
“It’s complicated,” I said, “but I am modeling. For work.”
“And I’m assisting,” she said. “Aren’t we cryptic?”
We shared a laugh, an easy laugh that turned into a pleasant silence.
“Anyway, I should probably get back to my trailer,” I said. “I’m afraid I’ve sweated off all my foundation.”
“Wait.” Alessandra reached an arm out, blocking the doorway. “I need to ask you something.”
I waited for her to speak. While I waited, I found myself wishing that I could wear skinny jeans like her. I needed a team of people to get me ready, and she’d thrown on black skinny jeans, a black tank top, and a black leather jacket. She had her hair in a ponytail and looked ten times cooler than me.
She still didn’t speak, so I looked pointedly at her arm, blocking my path. “Did you need something?”
Her jaw set in a firm line. “Tell me everything you know about The Violet Society.”
I choked back a gasp. It sounded like a dying frog. “Excuse me?”
“The Violet Society. What do you know about them?”
“N-nothing.”
She sighed, and then pulled a fancy little tool out of her pocket that resembled a set of gold toothpicks. After fiddling with the lock for one second, she looked up. Then she yanked it a few times. It didn’t budge.
“Did you lock us in here?” I gaped at her. “What do you think you’re doing? I have a runway to strut!”
Alessandra looked confused. Then she glanced between the door and me, and understanding dawned in her eyes. “Oh, that. It’s just to keep other people out. I like to talk in private.”
“Why should I tell you anything?”
She rolled her eyes. “Look. If I wanted to steal the necklace, I could have. And I would have already.” She crossed her arms. “I told you it wasn’t me. Either you believe me or not. And if not, then arrest me already.”
“I don’t have handcuffs.”
She smirked. “Okay then.”
I crossed my arms. “Fine. Maybe I believe you. But your shoes…they sliced that glass casing like it was butter.”
“My shoes double as tools for my job, just like this.” She jangled the lock picking set. “Don’t ask what I do, or I’ll have to kill you.”
I swallowed.
“I’m kidding. Mostly. But I am looking for someone, and I need to know anything you’ve learned regarding The Society.”
“I don’t know much besides the rumors.”
“What sort of rumors?”
“You probably know more than I do.”
“Humor me.”
She didn’t move to unlock the door, which had me a little annoyed. So I crossed my arms. “Humor me first, and tell me who you’re looking for.”
To my surprise, a flicker of sadness descended over her sunny face. Her lips formed a thin line, and then suddenly, her shoulders went limp.
She toyed with the lock-pick set near her waist. “I lost someone close to me…it was a long time ago, and I’m probably chasing a senseless dream. But I need to find out if this person is still alive.”
“How will finding The Violet Society help you do that?”
She hesitated, and then eventually gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I can’t say for sure, but I believe this person was connected to them. I’m close, I can feel it.” She clasped her hands over her chest, the lock picking set dangling over her heart. “Please, if you know anything, it might make all the difference. I promise I’ll leave you alone after this.”
“They’re criminals,” I said. “The society is dangerous.”
A wry smile cast a glow over Alessandra’s face as she held up the lock picking set. “I’m not in a position to talk about criminals.”
“Got it,” I said. “In that case…”
I filled her in on the few rumors I had heard. I ended by clarifying that the thefts from the designers didn’t feel like the work of The Violet Society.
“I thought it was you
behind it for a while,” I said. “The newspapers nicknamed the thief the Kitty Kat Burglar.”
“Not me,” she said. “I don’t care about jewelry. Or stealing, really. I’m not in that business anymore.”
I stood awkwardly still. Then she winked, and I was pretty sure she’d been kidding.
“What do you think?” I asked. “Do you think The Society is behind the thefts?”
After a long minute, she shook her head. “It doesn’t have their mark on it. I should know, I’ve studied each of their heists in great detail.”
“What do you do?” I asked. “I mean, for your job.”
She leveled her gaze in my direction, which was as much of an answer as I’d expected.
“Right,” I said. “Off limits.”
“I do, however, believe they’re involved,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s sort of a far-fetched theory, but it just might work…”
“I told you my rumors, now you tell me yours.”
Her eyes glittered, dark and mysterious. “Fair enough. I think it’s part of an initiation.”
“An initiation?” I raised an eyebrow.
She leaned against the locked door. Someone knocked on the outside. “Go away,” she called. “The plumbing in here is terrible, and there’s water all over the place.”
She waited for the footsteps to disappear before she turned back to me. “The Violet Society, as you know, is an uber-exclusive ring of criminals. They take exactly one representative per country—no more. For example, the United States, England, Italy, Russia…you name it. There is one from each.”
“Does every country in the world get a representative?”
She shook her finger. “No. Every country is eligible, but there is an extremely rigorous trial before anyone is accepted. If there is nobody from a given country who can pass the test, then that country goes without a rep.”
I sucked in a breath. “Tough crowd.”
“Very.” She gave a quick smile. “I happen to know there’s an opening for an American representative at the moment.”
“What happened to the last one?” I asked. “I imagine that these sorts of positions aren’t given up easily.”
