by Ruby Laska
MANDY MAKES HER MARK
RUBY LASKA
Copyright © 2015 by Ruby Laska.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Mandy Makes Her Mark / Ruby Laska. – 1st ed.
ISBN 978-1-940501-10-9
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Other books by Ruby Laska
Excerpt of Black Gold
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
Mandy Leif raced for the door of 222 Spear Tower as two of the Pent-Up Suits emerged, heads bent together, both talking at once.
“If you could please hold the—” she called, but her voice must not have carried through the rain, because the suits let the door close behind them as they unsnapped their somber black umbrellas and headed down the street, still talking over each other.
“I hope all your shorts go long!” she yelled as an extra-big raindrop splatted a direct hit on her forehead. “I hope your margin calls never call you back!”
Okay, it was juvenile, but two years ago when she moved to L.A. from Ohio, she never would have been able to make geeky finance jokes. Of course, back then she didn’t have to put up with the Pent-Up Suits, either, so named because their hedge fund’s headquarters was in the penthouse floor of the office building, they seemed to be repressing every emotion besides greed, and they wore suits. Everywhere, always, even on Saturdays, which Mandy knew because she practically lived at the office herself.
Another thing: two years ago, when she arrived in Los Angeles, she had no idea it rained here. But this spring took the cake: record levels of rainfall had killed the seedlings she set out in the window boxes of her apartment, given her a case of frizz-head that even a Brazilian blow-out couldn’t tame, and ruined half a dozen outdoor photo shoots.
Mandy was holding hot cups of coffee in both hands, and now that the Suits had left her in the lurch, she was trying to figure out how to set one down to open the door when it swung open on its own. Luna was standing there, looking thoughtful, wearing her very own Miu Miu sweater and Net-a-Porter jeans. This was very bad indeed.
“Luna,” Mandy said, ducking into the building and shaking rain from her hair like a sodden dog. “Why haven’t you left for the shoot?”
“There’s been a change of plans,” Luna said calmly.
Mandy felt her pulse zipping crazily upward as her sister turned and glided toward the elevators in her towering wedge heels. “The only change of plans I’m aware of is that this shoot has been rescheduled twice. Now that they’ve moved it inside, I can’t think of a single reason why you aren’t there getting prepped.”
“Rhonda’s taking my place.”
“What?”
“Calm down, Mandy. I already called, they’re fine with it. In fact, they were happy, they’re into her birthmark.” The elevator pinged and Luna, moving with the perfect posture that she’d had since she was a toddler, got on. She gave Mandy a condescending smile. “And this way I can be there for the Cupid Island meeting. But I need to talk to you for a minute first.”
“Luna,” Mandy said, trying hard not to hyperventilate. The cups were burning her hands through the flimsy cardboard cup-holders. “I do the booking. You are a model. Remember? You go where you’re told, just like everyone else. That’s how the agency works. That’s why we started it in the first place. That’s how we all get paid.”
“Stop talking to me like I’m a child,” Luna snapped, her expression staying remarkably fixed. Her placid calm, achieved with occasional injections of Botox, was one of her trademark features.
Perhaps her sister had a point, Mandy thought. Luna was foul-tempered and selfish, but she was also smart. Mandy took a steadying breath. “I’m just a little worried that you’ve changed the booking schedule without consulting me.” A thought occurred to her. “Are you not feeling well?”
“I’m fine. In fact, I have some news that should make you very happy.” The elevator stopped on the fifth floor, but Luna made no move to exit. “I broke up with Tad.”
“You…what?”
“It’s all right, I know you hate him. Everyone hates him. And you were right. See, Mandy, you were right! I’m admitting it!”
The door slid closed, Mandy too shocked to move. Luna had never, in Mandy’s twenty-eight years, ever admitted that Mandy was right and she was wrong.
The elevator began ascending.
“Why are you saying I’m right?” she demanded.
“Don’t worry, I’m not exactly devastated.” Luna certainly didn’t look devastated, but maybe that was a result of the Botox.
“You loved him.”
“Actually, I don’t think I ever did.” Luna pulled a compact from her purse and stared into it, pouting. “We just looked good together.”
“You—you can’t be serious.”
Luna slipped the compact back into her purse, satisfied that she was still gorgeous. “Can we talk about something else? This is getting boring.”
“You’re—you’re just going to leave him broken hearted for my shoot?”
“If you’re so worried about him, why don’t you date him? I know you like him.”
“I don’t—I never—”
Luna fixed her with a calculating, chilly smile. “Just think of him as one of my hand-me-downs. You never minded wearing them when we were kids.”
So like Luna, to remind her of something she’d rather forget—that their mother hadn’t minded spending money on clothes for statuesque Luna, then recycling them on Mandy when she eventually grew tall enough for them.
“And just to make things easier on everyone, I’m quitting,” Luna continued. “I’ve signed with Trident. I start next week. They’re sending me to Uzbekistan!”
Mandy felt as though she might faint. The elevator stopped—at the penthouse, she noticed faintly—and two Suits got on, looking nearly identical to the ones who’d just passed her on the street. Mutely, Mandy thrust the burning coffees at them. Surprised, they actually stopped speaking their financial gibberish as she pressed the cups into their hands.
“For you,” she said. “I’ve always admired your work with the fund.”
Then she grabbed Luna’s arm and dragged her off the elevator.
“Isn’t the Cupid Island meeting about to start?” Luna asked, blinking.
“Not until you explain to me what the heck is happening.”
A young man behind a sleek credenza–also wearing a suit, of course–cleared his throat. “May I help you?”
“We’re fine,” Mandy snapped. Two years of dealing with models, designers, and fashion executives had made her impervious to intimidation attempts. “We’ll sit over here.”
“But do you have an appointment?” the receptionist persisted.
Mandy whirled on him, glowering. “As I believe I said, we’ll be fine right here for the moment. I’ll let you know if we need anyt
hing.”
The startled man started tapping at his computer, no doubt looking for an appointment in his calendar. Mandy figured they had three minutes, tops—and the Cupid Island meeting was supposed to start five minutes ago, anyway. She pulled Luna down on an uncomfortably stylish sofa.
“You broke up with Tad.”
Luna nodded, adjusting her posture so that her long, shapely legs were displayed to optimum effect, and picked at an invisible thread on her sweater.
“And you’re leaving the agency we started together to work for our competition.”
Luna sighed. “I should have known you’d take this personally,” she said. “If you just stop and think for a moment, you’ll realize this is for the best for everyone. You must admit there’s been tension from the start.”
“Between me and Tad, sure,” Mandy admitted. “Between Tad and the stylists. Between Sylvie and—well, everyone. You’re models. You’re moody and unstable.”
“So now, less tension!” Luna thinned her lips into a feral looking smile. “See? Best for everyone.”
“Luna,” Mandy said through gritted teeth, aware that she was lapsing back into her patronizing voice. “You book at a rate three times Sylvie’s. You’re our top model. Without you, the agency can’t stay afloat. We’ll lose all our key contracts.”
Luna shrugged, as though Mandy was complaining about the price of milk. “You’ll just have to make Sylvie the star. Or Jayde. Or, I don’t know, hire someone else.”
“It’s not that easy!” Yet again, her sister had pulled the rug out from under her, and Mandy hadn’t been prepared. When would she learn? When it came to looking out for herself, Luna was ruthless.
“Mandy.” Luna’s cell phone chimed, and she pulled it from her bag and started tapping while she talked. “You make it look easy. I have faith in you. You can do anything. And I’ve already talked to Mr. Lark about Sylvie substituting for me on the island shoot, and I think he’s on board. But listen, we should probably get downstairs. Mr. Lark is waiting in the conference room, and Jayde and Sylvie were bickering this morning.”
“Oh, no!” Mandy said. She stood up and started for the stairs—faster than the elevator. If Jayde’s emotions were suffering any turmoil at all, there wasn’t a second to lose.
CHAPTER TWO
Jayde stood outside the conference room, hiccupping.
Hiccupping, where Jayde was concerned, inevitably led to crying.
Mandy swung around midstride. “Okay, Luna, you’re going to have to handle Jayde and I’ll—”
But Luna had disappeared. Of course! Along with putting herself first, Luna had a talent for disappearing when the going got tough. She’d probably slipped out on one of the other floors as Mandy raced down the stairwell, and was halfway to Bergdorf’s by now.
Mandy took a deep breath and counted backward from ten. Never mind that Jayde was only three years younger than her; she often felt like the only adult in the room when they were together.
“Jayde. Honey. What’s wrong?” she asked, automatically reaching into her giant purse for a tissue. Mandy had quickly learned, after starting the agency, to carry emergency supplies with her, and her bag sagged with the weight of tampons, aspirin, dental floss, blemish cream, hydrating spritz, and a dozen other products a model might need to fortify herself.
Jayde accepted the tissue and dotted it daintily at the corners of her gorgeous violet eyes. “Sylvie called me ‘twee.’ Mandy, I don’t even know what that means.”
Damn Sylvie—she had the instincts of a cobra, always picking on the weakest person in a room. Which was usually Jayde.
“Oh honey, that means you just have a saucy sense of style,” Mandy lied, vowing to strangle her second-highest-earning model. “Sylvie is just jealous.”
“She is?” Jayde said, brightening. “I mean, I wouldn’t even let it get to me, but my landlady—”
“You know what, let’s grab a coffee and talk about it after the meeting,” Mandy said gently, tugging Jayde back through the door to the conference room. “I want to hear all about it, just as soon as we cross all our T’s and dot the I’s. Imagine! Tomorrow you’ll be on your way to the Florida Keys! Won’t that be…”
She faltered as she pushed her way into the conference room. Two men and one woman glared at her. Of the three, two of them were ethereally gorgeous creatures, and one was the source of the cash that would keep the agency’s lights on for the next month. “…fun?”
“You’re late,” Tad Eckholm muttered.
“Only by nine minutes,” Marc Lark said archly. “And really, what is nine minutes to a man such as myself? A man with a fashion empire to run? After all, there are twenty-two days until the rollout of the winter line. Why not spend them drinking your excellent tap water and chatting with your charming employees?”
“Hey, you didn’t have to drink tap,” Sylvie said. It was always a shock when the thick Bronx accent came out of her beautiful, patrician-featured face. “You coulda had a seltzer.” Which came out “seltz-ah” causing Marc Lark to perceptibly shudder.
“I am so sorry about my tardiness,” Mandy said, steering Jayde to the chair farthest from Sylvie. “I was, ah…”
“Allow me to save you some effort,” Lark said. “I spoke to Luna. I am, of course, very sorry to hear about the diphtheria and I’m sure I speak for everyone at Lark when I say we wish her a speedy recovery, blah blah blah.”
“Dipth…” So Luna had lied to everyone at the agency, saying that she was ill, rather than admit she signed elsewhere. Mandy sighed; another disaster she was going to have to smooth over. With any luck, word wouldn’t get around until after the island shoot. While her models were in Florida, Mandy would have a few days to rework the schedule and go through head shots. “Yes. Her illness took us all by surprise.”
Mandy snuck a peek at Tad, steeling herself for the effect all that male perfection had on her even after two years, but he looked quickly away. Hmmm. He didn’t look like he was dying of heartbreak. Which was probably a good thing, on balance, as her other two male models were both booked elsewhere through the week. She couldn’t afford to lose Tad, too.
“I will expect a rate adjustment, of course,” Lark went on.
“Hey, I oughtta bill out at least as high as her,” Sylvie snapped.
“A discussion we’ll have at a later date,” Mandy said firmly. “Sylvie, Jayde, I know I asked the two of you to join us but I think Mr. Lark, Tad, and I can work out the rest of the details without you. I’ve emailed you all information on local transportation and lodging on the island. Why don’t you take off early and I’ll check in with you in the morning.”
“But we were going to go over the mood board and the call sheets,” Jayde said tearfully.
“I’ll catch you up,” Tad said. “We’re all on the same flight.”
Mandy looked at him warily. Why was he being nice all of a sudden? Especially since it was her sister who had ostensibly just dumped him? “That would be…most appreciated.”
“I want you down there, Mandy,” Lark said, pushing the folder of call sheets across the table to her. “This thing is falling apart. We don’t have any wiggle room in the schedule. I need the finals for the printer by next Tuesday. Our accounts’ schedules all hinge on the new catalog. There is no room for failure. Do you understand?”
Mandy blanched. She’d gone on shoots before, in the early days of the agency when she was still getting her feet wet. But these were her most seasoned models. The professional team that Lark had hired were among the best in the business. The photographer, Deirdre King, was reliable and drama-free; if anyone needed herding, Deirdre was up to the job.
When Jayde and Sylvie were gone, Lark got the mood board out of his briefcase and the three of them went over the details of the shoot: the hair, makeup and lighting, as well as locations that would best showcase the gowns. There were three days to shoot the collection. Most of the bridal gowns were being photographed in the studio and would be inserted into
the catalog layout later, but the photo shoot on Cupid Island was for the attendants’ gown collection and would feature Sylvie, with Jayde modeling the plus size gowns and Tad serving as little more than window dressing. Lark did not do menswear, so Tad would be able to wear the same tuxedo throughout, switching his accessories to match the gowns. An easy shoot for Tad, something Mandy hoped he was grateful for.
Lark softened considerably when Mandy offered a five percent discount above and beyond the reduction in rates made possible by Luna’s attrition.
“I’m sure you’ll be very pleased with Sylvie,” Mandy said, as the meeting concluded. “She is, ah, very talented.”
Lark merely grunted. “I’ll show myself out.”
Once he was gone, Mandy sank back in her chair, letting out a faint moan. Ordinarily she was on edge around Tad, who had to be one of the gloomiest men she had ever met. His long silences and glowering expressions were bad enough; the fact that they paradoxically stirred something animal and untamed in Mandy only made things worse. The only thing that prevented Mandy’s mortification at being attracted to her sister’s boyfriend was that every other woman who met him was as well—it simply couldn’t be helped.
Tad made no move to leave. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and gave her a look of intense scrutiny. “So. Luna told you.”
“How could you let this happen, Tad?”
His face, every flawless square inch of it, darkened. “Let what, exactly, happen, Mandy? Let your sister indulge her latest whim? Funny, I didn’t realize it was my job to stop her. Since you’ve been doing such a fantastic job.”
Ouch. Direct hit. Still, even if Tad was insufferable most of the time, he rarely acknowledged what they both knew to be true: Luna had done exactly what she wanted from day one of their joint enterprise, and Mandy had never been able to stop her.
“Okay.” Mandy forced herself to calm down. “Okay, look, she’s gone and we’ll have to deal with that, probably each of us in our own way, when we get back. Now I’ve got to somehow get coverage for the rest of the week, rework the schedule, make sure we can get an extra room, pack, book my flight—what time did I book the rest of you for, anyway?”
