Glamour

by Melody Carlson

  Paige leads the way, following the BBB signs out to the pool area, which is all set for the fashion show. Glistening glass patio tables with turquoise umbrellas and comfy-looking white chairs surround the pool, which is decorated with brightly colored floating flowers. There’s a strip of white canvas running alongside the pool, and I assume that’s supposed to be the runway. As a photographer, I’m thinking this is a nice setup. The models should look good with the blue water background.

  “Very nice,” Paige says as we take in the scene. JJ is rolling film and it appears Brogan has more going on than we assumed. Each table has a tropical flower arrangement and some seashells, along with placards with the guests’ names listed. Really, it seems well planned and swanky in a beachy sort of way. An usher hurries over to escort us to a table up near the platform where I assume the models will enter the show. But, unlike the other tables, this table has no umbrella and it’s in direct sunlight, which feels like about a hundred degrees at the moment.

  Paige shakes her head. “No … no, this will not do.”

  The usher looks surprised. “But this table is for you.” He points to the placard with our names on it. “You are Paige Forrester, right?”

  Paige looks around the pool area. The tables are starting to fill up, but there are still a few empty ones. “Over there,” she says to the guy. And, realizing what she’s up to, I pick up the placard with our name and follow her, and he follows me as Paige leads us to a table on the opposite side of the pool. I notice JJ is running his camera the whole time, but that’s not unusual. It’s always better to have too much film than not enough.

  Paige stops at a table that not only has an umbrella, but is partially shaded by the palm trees behind it. She picks up the placard, which ironically has the names Benjamin Kross and Vince Stewart on it, and hands it to the surprised usher.

  “I know these guys,” she informs him in a familiar tone. “I’m sure they will totally understand this switch.” She sets down her purse and points to an open area behind our new table. “And now there’s room for our camera crew as well. This is perfect!” She flashes him her smile and thanks him profusely. He looks slightly star struck, and there’s a spring in his step as he carries Ben and Vince’s placard to the sun-baked table across from us.

  “Much better,” she tells me.

  “Nice move,” I say.

  “Are you ready to do some behind-the-scenes filming now?” JJ asks Paige. “I think Alistair is already back there getting some footage of the models.”

  Paige points at me. “I think you need to stay out here and hold onto this table.”

  “Okay …” I nod, but I’m imagining a showdown with Brogan over her seating arrangement.

  “Don’t worry,” Paige assures me. “It would be terribly bad manners for our hostess to try to bump us from our seats.”

  “Right.”

  Paige and JJ head into the tent-like cabana that’s right next to the platform. I think it must be where the staging area and dressing room are set up. As I sit here feeling uncomfortable about our little table switch, I suddenly remember Mollie’s warning about watching our backs. Then I realize that’s pretty paranoid. Paige is right. Brogan wouldn’t make a scene. Not with all these people starting to sit down.

  As I wait for Paige, the music begins to play and drinks and appetizers are served. I take a sip of my strawberry lemonade and begin to relax. It’s reassuring to see Fran sitting over on the sidelines in the shade, with a water bottle in hand. I hope she’s okay. I’m tempted to go check on her, but don’t want to abandon this table. So I wave, and she waves back.

  Then I see Paige coming back out with JJ and Alistair on her heels. She is still smiling and looking fresh and pretty in a very classic Grace Kelly sort of way. I notice heads turn to follow her, and people chatting amongst themselves, no doubt about her. I realize, again, that my sister really has that “special something.” And while I’m happy for her and somewhat proud, I always feel cautious too when all that attention is heaped on Paige. I’ve seen the whole fame thing turn on her. So has she. You never want to get too comfortable in the spotlight. It can burn you.

  “Hey there,” she says as she eases herself into the chair by me, gracefully crossing one leg over the other as a waiter scurries over, asking her what she’d like to drink.

  She orders a Diet Coke then nods over to the hot spot table, which is still empty. “I’ll bet those boys don’t even show,” she says to me quietly. “We could’ve been stuck sitting over there in the hot seats while this table remained vacant.”

  “You’re probably right.” But the words are barely out when I notice some familiar faces. “Don’t look now,” I tell Paige, “but Benjamin and Vince have arrived.” Then my jaw drops.

  “What?” she demands without turning to see.

  I make a speedy recovery, pasting a stiff smile on my lips. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m a little surprised to see Blake is with them.”

  “Ben must’ve invited him.”

  “Yeah … right.” I still have a hard time wrapping my head around Ben and Blake’s friendship. Blake reached out to Ben after Mia’s death, hoping to help Ben find God. And that’s cool … except it doesn’t seem that Ben is terribly interested in God. Sometimes I worry about who is influencing who.

  “Poor Blake … stuck with Ben at that sweltering table.” She gets a thoughtful look. “Hey, why don’t you invite Blake to come sit with us?” She nods to a nearby chair. “We can make room.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” I say quickly. “I think he’d rather be with the boys.”

  She chuckles. “Yeah, right. Baking in the sun?”

  The guys are sitting down, and Benjamin seems to be positioning himself so that he doesn’t look directly at Paige. They put on sunglasses and I suspect they’re just realizing they got the worst table in the place. The expression on Benjamin’s face is so disgruntled that I can’t help but giggle.

  “What is it?” Paige asks.

  “It seems that Benjamin is not pleased with his table.” Just then Blake looks directly at me and I want to crawl under our table. Instead I just smile and make a little finger wave. But as I do this, I feel like such a fake. I’m not even sure why, exactly, except that this whole scene is so not me. Dressing up like this, wearing a sun hat and shades, feels false, like I’m playing someone else. And then waving at Blake that way, like we’re still buddies but knowing we’re not. I’m about as authentic as Brogan Braxton. She’s pretending to be a designer, and I’m just plain pretending.

  Chapter

  5

  I’m still trying to shake that phony feeling when Brogan emerges onto the main platform. She’s wearing a black sundress, which I have to wonder about—I mean, who wears a black sundress? Especially on a sweltering day like today. She takes a quick little bow, I’m not sure why. Then she hurries back into the tented area as if she’s got some lastminute design issues to attend to, although I have my doubts. As she disappears, the emcee steps forward to the podium, welcoming everyone and gushing about how exciting the new BBB line is and how she can’t wait to get this party started. Suddenly the music gets louder and the show begins.

  I try to act interested, but besides the high-energy music, this show is nothing like the ones Paige and I are used to attending. Even the models, mostly people I recognize from Malibu Beach, seem substandard and unprofessional. There are a couple of missteps, and one girl stumbles over a wrinkle in the canvas sidewalk. She actually falls and loses a shoe.

  That’s bad enough, but it’s these BBB designs that really make me uncomfortable. Sure, I’m no fashion expert, but if someone told me these outfits had come from BigMart, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Not only do the materials look cheesy, but the colors seem garish, and I honestly wouldn’t want to wear any of them.

  I glance over at Paige, and although she’s wearing her polite smile, I can tell by her eyes that she is even less impressed than I am. “How did you handle this backstage with Brogan?�
� I whisper into her ear, smiling as if I’m saying something nice about the hot-pink bikini and orange sarong that are strutting on the other side of the pool.

  “It was so sad,” she says. “I actually had to question Brogan on some things. You know, for the sake of the show.”

  I glance around at the other tables. Some people seem mildly impressed, but maybe they’re mothers of the models and can’t help themselves. Many others look how I feel — somewhat bored, a bit confused, and fairly disappointed. Still, I can’t believe it when all the women at one table stand up, as if on cue, and leave. I’m not a BBB fan, but as much as I’d like to walk out, I would never do it. In fact, I think it’s inexcusably rude.

  As a girl in a striped red and green swimsuit struts by, I steal a glance to where Blake and the guys are sitting—and roasting—and feel a little stab of guilt. Of course, this is followed by relief as I realize that could’ve been us melting in the heat. Because even in the shade, it’s toasty. I pick up my program, using it to fan myself, as if my being warm somehow makes up for the table swap. I then open the program and pretend to be highly interested in the content and notice there’s an intermission. I hope it’s soon.

  A model wearing a purple and teal sundress does her final lap down the runway and the music slows down, suggesting it’s time for a break. Several of the guests stand up and move about, and I wonder if they are about to make a getaway. Paige stands too, waving to the camera guys to come over.

  “We might as well make use of this time,” she says as JJ fiddles with her microphone. “That way we can leave as soon as it’s over.”

  Alistair and JJ focus their cameras on her as she stands by the pool, critiquing what we’ve just seen. And, while she’s not brutal, she is truthful. Some of the other guests come closer to listen.

  “I do give Brogan Braxton credit for trying something like this,” Paige continues. “Starting a new line of clothing is not for the weak of heart. And certainly Brogan’s color choices suggest that she is a brave young woman. However, because Brogan invited me here to cover her design debut, and because I’m a bit of a fashion critic, and for the sake of my fans and viewers, I must be totally honest. BBB might appeal to, say, the tweener generation. But I doubt that anyone in the real fashion industry is going to take this line of beachwear terribly seriously. And I’m sure we won’t be seeing her line at Bahamas Fashion Week.” Paige smiles. “Of course, this is Brogan’s first appearance on the style scene—as a designer anyway. And it’s possible that she might surprise us down the line, but I have to say that here and today, it’s not working for — ”

  “Excuse me.” Brogan seems to have appeared from nowhere, and I’m wondering just how much of Paige’s monologue she’s overheard. Judging by her expression, Brogan’s heard more than enough.

  “Oh, hello, Brogan.” Paige smiles brightly. “Here is our designer now.”

  “What are you doing?” Brogan seethes.

  “I’m doing the monologue for my show. You know how our show works. I would’ve done it afterward, but I figured why not make the most of intermission and—”

  Brogan points to where I’m sitting. “Why are you sitting at this table?”

  Paige laughs lightly. “I’m sorry?”

  “I asked you why you switched tables, Paige. Didn’t you hear me?”

  “I heard you, I was just taken aback.”

  “You and your sister were assigned to that table over there.” She points over to where the guys had been sitting, but they are nowhere to be seen now.

  “I don’t see that it makes any difference,” Paige tells her. “Besides, that table was rather hot.”

  “I had you seated there to give you a better view of the models coming out.”

  “Oh, I can see them just fine over here,” Paige tells her.

  “Yes, but that isn’t the point.”

  I can see that Paige’s patience is fading fast. “Then tell me, Brogan, what is the point? Did you want Erin and me to sit over there and suffer heatstroke from sitting in the glaring sun?”

  Brogan feigns surprise, as if she had no idea the table was minus an umbrella.

  “Because if that’s how you treat your guests, after you asked us here to include The BBB on our show, well, perhaps we should excuse ourselves.” Paige hands me her mic and gives me a “let’s get out of here” expression. I’m already reaching for my bag.

  “You just want to ruin this for me, don’t you?” Brogan’s eyes are narrowed as she steps closer to Paige. “First you mess with my seating arrangement—”

  “I’m sorry,” Paige interrupts. “I think the only one who can ruin this show is you, Brogan.” Paige waves her hand toward the pool area. “And I actually felt hopeful when we got here. This is a great setting and you’re doing a lot of things right.” Paige steps onto the canvas runway by our table. It looks like she’s trying to slip past Brogan gracefully in order to get her purse from the other side of the table, but Brogan is blocking her. “Unfortunately, there’s a lot you’re doing wrong too,” Paige continues coolly. “And in the fashion world—”

  Just then Brogan shoves roughly past her. In fact, she actually shoves Paige. And, as if in slow motion, Paige is teetering dangerously on the edge of the pool. I jump from my chair and attempt to grab her hand, but it’s too late.

  Paige, in her beautiful lemon-yellow sundress, topples right into the swimming pool. Alistair and JJ run to the edge, as if to help her, but seeing that she’s okay, they continue to film the spectacle. With a furious expression, Paige sputters, and Brogan laughs. In that moment it takes all my self-control not to push Brogan into the pool as well. But, somehow, I can feel Fran’s eyes on me, and I’m sure she expects me to salvage this fiasco—to keep it a good show and not just a free-for-all.

  So, with everyone around the pool staring at this scene, some of them commenting and a few of them laughing, I grab the microphone that Paige just gave me and I nod to JJ as he continues to film. With mic in hand, I step closer to Paige and, facing the cameras, I begin to speak.

  “It seems that Brogan Braxton was unable to make a splash of her own at her debut fashion show today.” I tip my head to where Paige is peering up at us from beneath her drooping, dripping hat. “So she decided to use my sister to make a splash instead.”

  “That’s right!” Paige nods eagerly.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her.

  Paige smiles. “You know, the water is actually quite refreshing,” she calls back to me.

  “There you have it. My sister is ever the optimist.” I turn to Brogan. “And it seems that Paige could give you some lessons in both etiquette and fashion.”

  Brogan looks like she’s about to shove me into the pool now, so I take a few steps away from her, moving to the pool ladder, where Paige is climbing out. “So here we are,” I say to the cameras as I give her a hand. “You’ve seen for yourselves what BBB fashion is all about today. And in my opinion Brogan Braxton Beachwear would not hold up in the water as well as my sister Paige Forrester is right now.”

  Paige, looking slightly drowned, smiles brightly as I hold the mic in front of her. “And if you think I’m all wet,” she says as she removes her hat, wringing it out in front of the cameras, “you should check out these BBB fashions. Because seriously, fashion friends, I would rather go swimming in this little number”—she holds out her arms and strikes a pose—“than in any of the beachwear I’ve seen here today.” Paige turns to Brogan, who is glaring at us like she wishes we were dead, and smiles. “Thank you for a very entertaining afternoon, Brogan. If your BBB line doesn’t sell as anticipated, you might consider donating your originals. I hear the circus is coming to town.”

  Paige turns back to the cameras. “And now, fashion friends, remember to always put your best foot forward.” She sticks out a dripping sandal. “Today that would be a rather soggy pair of Louboutins that I picked up in Paris last spring.” She sadly shakes her head. “And speaking of Paris … “ She gives Brogan a quick s
ideways glance. “We will soon take On the Runway to the Bahamas. There we will show you some truly gorgeous beachwear that is worth paying attention to. So thanks for joining us for another episode of On the Runway.”

  Paige turns away from the camera to see that the other guests are still watching her. Their expressions are a mix — everything from confusion to shock to delight. Paige makes a deep bow for their benefit. The small crowd actually claps and some even cheer.

  She waves her hand at the cameras. “That’s a wrap, boys. Now let’s get out of here before Brogan tries to push us all into the pool.”

  We exit the pool area and congregate in the lobby, where our crew expresses relief at having finished the show in half the time expected.

  “This is going to make a great show,” Alistair tells Fran. “We caught the whole thing on film.”

  “That’s great,” she tells the guys. Then she turns to me. “And good job holding it together, Erin.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Nice recovery,” she tells Paige.

  “Very nice,” I agree. “Even with those raccoon eyes, you were a class act.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Paige mutters as she grabs a compact from her bag and, peering into the mirror, starts repairing the damage to her mascara.

  After we get home, I tell Mom about the BBB fashion show while Paige takes a long shower.

  “You girls.” Mom shakes her head as she fills a glass with water. “Such adventures!”

  “Speaking of adventures,” I say, “are you getting excited about Paris?” Jon had originally planned to take Mom on an Alaskan cruise for their honeymoon, but when he heard that Paris was her dream locale, he changed his plans. Now they will spend two weeks in France instead.

  “I’ve had so much on my mind lately …” She sighs. “I can hardly even think about Paris.”

  “You mean because of the wedding?” I ask. “Remember, you’re supposed to rely on your bridesmaids for help with that.”

  “No, the wedding is looking good. It’s work that’s been consuming me. It feels like there’s so much to get arranged before I’m gone.”