“And you’ll be a great addition to ours,” Paige tells her. “I’m almost certain you won’t be cut.”
“Fantastic.” Granada grins at me. “Now I want to make another deal with you girls. At least with Erin. I’m not sure Paige will want in.”
“What?” I ask eagerly.
“You keep the outfit.”
“Seriously? I mean, I was actually going to buy it—if I could afford it, but—”
“You keep it on the condition that you wear it once on your show. Besides this one, okay?”
“No problem.”
“And a little mention of my company in the final credits.”
“Of course,” I assure her. “We already do that for any designers who send clothes that are used.”
She turns to Paige. “Same offer to you, but I promise not to be offended if you turn it down.”
“Hey, I’m in,” Paige tells her. “I can’t wait until we do a spot in some tropical location, and I’ll be wearing this for sure.”
Granada shakes both our hands. “On behalf of Third World workers and plants and animals who have no voice, I thank you.”
“We should be thanking you,” I tell her.
“And I have someone who wants to meet you,” Paige tells Granada. “Benjamin Kross from—”
“I know who Benjamin Kross is.” Granada grins.
“And he thinks that Malibu Beach should do something green on their show,” Paige says as she leads Granada out to where our guys are waiting. “And maybe their show will feature some of your designs.”
I chuckle as I shut down my camera and slip it into my backpack. I’m sure Paige would love to make a recommendation for Mia’s wardrobe too. Maybe that saggy denim dress that Paige made fun of last week.
To save time, and because we’re both ravenous, Paige and I decide not to change back into our other clothes to go out with Benjamin and Blake. It turns out that Benjamin made reservations at a great new restaurant in Beverly Hills. And, even though I usually act like I don’t enjoy it, I have to say that it can be kind of fun being pointed at and observed as if we’re all celebrities. People are flashing their cell phones at us and both Paige and Benjamin are rushed for a couple of autographs. I’m actually relieved that I’m not the center of this limelight, but it’s fun to witness. Plus the treatment from the restaurant staff is way better than usual.
“I could get used to this,” Blake says after an oblivious girl asks him for his autograph as we’re leaving.
“That’s what you think now,” Benjamin tells him as we wait for the parking valet to bring his car back around. “But if you had to live with it for a while you might think differently.”
“I’m still enjoying it.” Paige smiles and waves at a couple of teen girls who are gawking at us from a car that’s slowly cruising down the street—obviously on the lookout for celebs.
“The time will come when you might like your privacy more,” he warns her.
“It’s the price you pay for fame,” she says like she’s got it all figured out. “You simply have to deal with it.”
“I don’t know…It’s okay for now, but I’m not sure I’d want to live like this for too long,” I admit.
Just then a dark van pulls up so quickly that one of the parking valets jumps to avoid being hit. And—bam—just like that, several guys leap out with cameras and begin snapping as if they think they just caught something really earthshaking.
“And then you have the paparazzi.” Benjamin just shakes his head.
“Let’s give them what they want,” Paige says quickly, turning to give them a great big smile. Benjamin follows suit, as do Blake and I. And the photographers sort of back off, like maybe that wasn’t really what they were going for after all. Then they wave and hop back in their van and take off—probably in pursuit of more interesting celebs.
“See,” Paige says in a matter-of-fact tone. “That wasn’t so hard.”
Benjamin laughs as he tips the valet. “No, it wasn’t.”
As Benjamin drives us back to the hotel to pick up Paige’s car, I’m thinking once again that my sister really is cut out for this kind of high-profile lifestyle. She actually seems to fit in—and she genuinely loves it. Whether or not she’ll always feel that way is anybody’s guess, but for the moment she appears perfectly content.
And just because being photographed by crazed photographers is not my favorite pastime doesn’t mean I should judge Paige for liking it. Still, I hope that I figure out what it is that makes me as happy as she seems to be today. I want the chance to chase my dreams too.
Chapter 5
“So how was the big fashion event?” Mom asks as soon as she’s in the door Sunday evening. Paige and I are in the middle of watching some of the film that I shot today.
“See for yourself,” I tell Mom.
“Unedited, uncut, and uncensored,” Paige quips.
“Does it need censoring?” Mom puts her purse down and comes over.
“Well, maybe some of the behind the scenes stuff,” I admit. “I mean, girls were getting dressed, and they might not enjoy being seen in their underwear.”
“Some of them would,” Paige teases.
“Anyway, you can get a better idea of how it was when you see Friday’s show,” I tell her.
“Oh, Paige.” Mom points to the TV where Paige is striding down on the catwalk. “You look like such a natural on that runway. I’m surprised that other designers didn’t ask you to model for them as well.”
“Erin did great too,” Paige tells her.
“Aw thanks,” I say. “But sorry, Mom—you can’t see me here, because I’m behind the camera.”
“You’ll see her in the real show.” Paige says. “She was fabulous.”
I roll my eyes and turn off the TV after the footage comes to an end. “So how was Mamma Mia?” I ask Mom.
“Fantastic.” Mom is heading to the kitchen. “I think I’ll start some dinner. Anyone want to help?”
“And how is Jon?” Paige asks as we join Mom in the kitchen.
“Jon is fantastic too.” Mom almost seems starry eyed as she sets a head of lettuce on the counter.
“Are you in love?” Paige pauses from reaching into the fridge to study Mom and I’m wishing she hadn’t asked that. I’m not even sure I want to know the answer.
“Oh…I don’t know.” Mom smiles mysteriously. “It’s a little early for that.”
“But you do like him, don’t you?” Paige persists. “A lot, right?”
Mom looks embarrassed now. “He’s a very nice man.”
“I’ll make the salad,” I offer, taking the lettuce from Mom, trying to divert attention away from my blushing mother. I start jabbering on about how we went with Benjamin and Blake to this new restaurant and how the paparazzi snagged some photos and how Paige just waved and smiled.
“It’s probably more fun for them when they have to chase you down to get a shot,” Mom says as she pours rice into the boiling water. “So you’ve been out with Benjamin a couple of times now, Paige. How’s that going?”
“It’s okay,” Paige tells her. “But I’m taking it nice and slow.”
“And you and Blake?” Mom asks me. “Are you two a couple again?”
“I’m taking it even slower than Paige,” I say with a chuckle. “Blake, for now, is my good friend. I told him that he’s getting closer to boyfriend status all the time.”
Mom laughs. “Good for you. Make him prove himself. Make them both prove themselves.”
“I remember how Dad always told us not to settle for less than the best for guys as well as in life.” I pause from slicing a tomato. “And I seriously want to stick to that.”
“Me too!” Paige agrees.
“So do I,” Mom says.
Later, as we sit down to eat, Mom asks about our plans for our New York trip. “Is everything falling into place?”
“Seems to be,” Paige tells her. “We fly out Thursday—”
“This Thursday?”
Mom looks surprised.
“Yep. Remember Fran wanted us out there a week early to interview designers and put together footage that will play before our Fashion Week show?”
“Yes I remember. But Thursday just seems so soon.” Mom sighs. “I wish I could go with you girls.”
“Why don’t you?” Paige suggests.
“Oh, you know I can’t get off work. Besides, you girls need to do this on your own. It’s your show. You don’t need your old mom meddling with it.” But even as she says this, I sense that she regrets not being involved. I remember when Helen Hudson offered Mom a chance to help produce our show.
“You’re not our old mom.” I take her hand.
“And we would love it if you came along,” Paige adds. “Well, as long as you didn’t try to direct the show or anything. Fran might not like that too much.”
Mom laughs. “Thanks, honey. But you’ll be fine without me tagging along. Just make sure I get a full itinerary before you take off.”
“I’ll remind Leah to copy you on all that,” Paige promises.
After dinner, I head to my room to unwind. Eventually I decide to give Mollie a call. I have no idea if she’ll even speak to me, but I really want to be mature about this and at least attempt to make things right. But, once again, I am sent directly to voicemail, and this time I don’t bother to leave a message. For one thing, I’m getting aggravated that she seems to be ignoring my calls, but the other reason is that I’m worried I’ll say something dumb and make things worse. Sometimes it’s just better to keep your mouth shut.
Paige and I end up spending the next three days at the studio with Fran and the crew. Fran spends this time mapping out our time in New York as well as briefing us and planning our wardrobe.
“Hopefully we’ll pick up more pieces once we get there,” she informs us as the wardrobe workers pack the boxes to be sent on ahead to our hotel. “Leah let the designers know your sizes as well as sent DVDs of your show. But a lot of this we’ll simply have to play by ear.” She chuckles as she hands us a hard copy of our schedules. “And, after all, isn’t that the beauty of reality TV?”
“Have you figured out how many of our crew will be coming yet?” Paige asks as she looks at the schedule.
“Thanks to a serious lack of available hotel rooms next week, that’s a tough one—but Leah’s on it. She might even stick the crew in New Jersey during Fashion Week proper. And if we have to go bare-boned for a few days, in regard to our regular hair and makeup artists, I’ll be counting on you, Paige. You seem to be a natural anyway.”
“You mean I’ll be doing my own hair and makeup?” Paige looks shocked and slightly diva-like as she says this.
“I hope that won’t happen, but in a worst-case scenario, we need to be prepared. Keep in mind, it is Fashion Week, and besides the challenge of accommodations, every decent hair and makeup person is already booked. It’s not like we had a year in advance to set this thing up.”
Paige looks concerned.
“You’ll be fine,” I try to assure her.
“Does that mean I’ll be doing Erin’s hair and makeup too?” Paige is still acting a bit too much like a prima donna for me. I sure hope this isn’t some kind of foreshadowing of what I can look forward to in the Big Apple.
“Good grief,” I tell her. “It’s not like I need to look that great. I’m only the camera girl and I go for a pretty natural look anyway. Relax, okay?”
“That’s easy for you to say, Camera Girl, but I’m supposed to be the star and I need to look good. I can’t show up at Fashion Week looking like something the cat dragged in.”
Fran laughs. “Fine, I’ll make a special note asking Leah to pay close attention to this one. Somehow we’ll handle it, okay?”
“I hope so.”
“And I get your point, Paige. If you don’t look good we don’t look good.” Fran writes something down. “I’ll be flying out with you and the three of us will share a suite that Leah managed to snag. As you can see on the schedule, Friday will be our day to acclimate ourselves to the city as well as do more strategizing. Then, first thing Saturday morning, the crew will be ready to hit the ground running. Or so we hope. Because, as you can see, that day is jammed—with less than a week before Fashion Week begins, design studios are hopping.”
“I also see that we’re scheduled to stay with Taylor Mitchell the following week. You’re sure she’s okay with that, right?” Paige asks.
“According to Leah, yes. It sounds like Taylor actually caught your last show and thinks highly of you, Paige.”
Paige holds her head higher. “Hopefully she’ll still feel that way when I meet her—I mean, if I have to do my own hair and makeup.”
I try not to roll my eyes…or yawn. Paige is so uptight. But I’ll just chalk it up to nerves. A lot is riding on her during the next couple of weeks.
“I’ve got Helen Hudson on the line,” Leah calls from her desk. “Want me to put her on speaker so she can talk to all of you?”
Fran turns on her speaker phone and we all listen as Helen wishes us a safe trip and success. “I’ll fly in next Tuesday and attend the Perry Ellis show on Wednesday and then the Valentino on Friday,” she says finally. “Now you girls be good and make me proud, you hear?”
We tell her we’ll do our best and thank her before Fran hangs up. “So there you have it.” She holds up her hands. “Since it’s after six, I suggest you girls get home, finish packing, and get your beauty rest so that Paige doesn’t end up looking like something the cat dragged in.” She gives Paige a sly smile.
“By the way,” Paige asks as we’re leaving, “I assume we’re flying first class, right?”
Fran just laughs. “Wrong. The best Leah could do was business class. Sorry about that.”
Paige makes a pouty face. “How is it going to look if I get spotted flying business class?”
“Maybe you can disguise yourself,” Fran teases. “Dark glasses, a scarf—go like an old-time Hollywood starlet.”
Paige nods. “I just might do that.”
Maybe I’m losing it, but the image of Paige playing a fifties movie starlet makes me laugh so hard that I actually snort.
“Attractive,” Paige tells me as we’re leaving.
“See you in the morning, girls,” Fran calls out.
“Feeling nervous about the trip?” I ask Paige once we’re in my Jeep. “You seemed a little edgy in there.”
“Edgy?” She glances at me as I start the engine. “Why? What did I do?”
“Oh, you know, all that business about hair and makeup. Is it really that big of a deal?”
“It is to me. Seriously, Erin, our show is about looking good. How can I afford to go on the air without looking perfect?”
“Isn’t that kind of hard to keep up all the time?”
Paige laughs. “Well, it does help that I’m fairly fabulous already.”
“Not that you obsess over your looks or anything.”
“My looks are what got us this job, Erin. I need to obsess a little.”
I send up a quick prayer and tread carefully here. “But do you ever worry that you’re just focusing on the outside, that you’re maybe bordering on being…superficial…by worrying so much about appearances? I mean, what about what’s underneath it all? What’s left if you peel away the layers of fashion, makeup, even your natural good looks?”
Paige doesn’t answer.
“What about your mind? Or even your heart?”
“What about them?” She holds up her hands in a helpless gesture. “They’re there, aren’t they? You’re not suggesting I’m lacking those things, are you? I mean, it takes some brains and wit to do the interviews I do. And I have a heart, Erin. Don’t I?” Her voice quivers ever so slightly and I wonder if I’ve hit a sore spot. I hope I haven’t hurt her.
“Of course you do,” I say quickly.
“I’m not you, I know,” she says. “You seem to think it’s enough to rely on your brains and…well, maybe your faith.
I’m not sure. But we’re different, Erin. I can’t be you. And you can’t be me.”
I laugh as I enter the freeway. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it.”
She offers a small smile. “So maybe we should agree to disagree. You might think I’m all shallow and superficial and that I obsess over things like hair and makeup and fashion, but you don’t have to pick on me for it, okay?”
“Okay.” I nod vigorously. She’s right. “I won’t. And by the same token, maybe you should lay off picking on me for being unfashionable. Deal?”
“Well, I can pick on you a little,” she says quickly. “You are on a TV show that’s all about fashion. I can’t just pretend you look great if you don’t.”
“Uh huh.” I just shake my head. “Whatever.”
“So how about this…” She turns to look at me. “You are allowed to send me some kind of secret signal, okay?”
“Huh?”
“You know, like if you think I’ve stepped over the line…or even if I’m about to step over some line.”
“What kind of line?”
“You know, like I’m about to blast someone in the name of honesty and fashion. I give you permission to tip me off if it looks like I’m going to seriously hurt someone, okay?”
“Okay.” I feel myself brighten now. “What kind of secret signal will it be?”
“Good question.”
We both sit there trying to come up with something, and after trying several we finally agree on the old throat-slash signal for cut.
“Since I’m not the one who ever tells you to cut, it should get your attention,” I point out. “Plus the person you’re interviewing will probably assume I’m just doing my job as camera girl.” Hopefully it’s not a signal I’ll need to use much.
Chapter 6
“You girls have fun,” Mom tells us as we’re rushing to head out the door. It’s not even six in the morning, and Mom’s still in her bathrobe. But Fran just called saying that the limo is waiting, and we’re scrambling to gather our stuff.
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