by Judi McCoy
“Hmm. There is supposed to be a celebration for the winner, and the losers are supposed to hang around for photos, too.”
“And you could offer to lend a hand watchin’ the dogs while the models are gettin’ their pictures taken.”
“I guess maybe I could. It does seem reasonable.”
“It might even help you get on Fiddle-faddle’s good side. He thinks you got paid too much for the job you’re doin’, so you’d be makin’ up for it by offerin’ a freebie dog-sit.”
She finished her tea while she thought about Rudy’s suggestion. No doubt about it, her boy could probably sell igloos to Eskimos if the need ever arose. “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”
“So find out now. Call Patti. I bet she can give you an opinion. Or maybe Kitty would let you know. You could say you’re callin’ about her brother, then bring up the big win party and ask if anyone would mind.”
“The only people whose opinions count would be Clark, or Nola and Morgan. It’s their party, but I don’t have any of their numbers.”
“Patti might.”
She checked the time on her microwave. “I guess I could give her a call.” She shrugged, then took her phone from her tote bag and dialed her number. “Hey, Patti, it’s me,” she said, trying to sound perky instead of ready for bed. “Do you have a minute?”
“For you, anything.”
After going over her thoughts on the party, she asked Patti for the phone numbers, but had no success. “I’m just an NMD contract worker, so I don’t have their numbers, but I do have Jeffery’s.”
“You do?”
“Sure. It’s on my contract as the contact. The office number is printed, but he wrote what he said was his ‘private’ line under it. Do you want that?”
“Do you think he could give me approval for staying at the party?”
“I don’t see why not. He’s still an NMD employee and he was the chief contact until he was arrested. He also knows you’re working to set him free.”
“Okay, then, give me the number and I’ll make the call.”
“Don’t forget, you should probably check and make sure Julie got the ex-terminator her tickets.”
After taking Jeffery’s number from Patti, she disconnected and frowned. “Oh, great. You’re right. I should check. But if I’m lucky I’ll get the judge.”
“And Amber. Did you call and ask her how the gang was doin’?”
“With all the snooping, I forgot.”
“And Detective Doofus. ’Cause I wanna know if I can sleep in our bed, or is he comin’ home to kick me out?”
Ellie heaved a sigh. At this rate, she’d never get to sleep, but she made every call.
The next morning, the sound of Ellie’s cell phone buzzing on its nightstand charger woke her. Groaning, she rolled to the right and checked the number. It was her mother, of course. Who else would be up at the crack of dawn and pestering her?
“Good morning, Mother.”
“Thank goodness you answered,” said Georgette, her tone desperate. “I need to ask you—no, no—first I have to thank you for the tickets. The judge gave them to me this morning, and I’m speechless.”
If you’re speechless, why are you calling me? was Ellie’s first response, and the one she kept to herself. “Your birthday is tomorrow, and it was something I could do. You aren’t the easiest person to buy for, you know.”
“Oh, pooh. You say that all the time, yet you still manage to surprise me with delightful gifts.”
Ellie swung her legs over the side of the mattress and sat up. From the sound of it, this was not going to be a quick discussion. “So what’s your question?”
“Well, first off, I need a bit of guidance. What should I wear today?”
“Wear? Today?” Georgette had to be kidding. She had a closet as big as Ellie’s guest bedroom and it was filled with clothes. “Mom, you do realize this is me, your daughter, right? The girl who buys off-the-rack.”
“I know it’s you, darling. And you’ve been at Fashion Week for the past four days. Surely you’ve had a chance to scope things out and take note of what the audience members are wearing.”
“You know I don’t pay attention to that kind of thing. Clothes are clothes. They should be clean and comfortable and bear a close resemblance to what’s what in the twenty-first century. Tan and gray don’t go together, and neither do brown and black. After that, anything goes.”
“But what about the designers? Who’s most popular right now?”
“Isaac Mizrahi had his showing yesterday, along with a big party and he—”
“You went to a party given by Isaac Mizrahi?”
Ellie imagined her mother sitting with her hand over her heart, as if she was having palpitations. “I didn’t go, Mom, but you could call Patti Fallgrave. She’s my supermodel client, and she wasn’t there either, but she can tell you what to wear.”
“I know her name. She was on last month’s cover of Vogue. You walk her dog.”
“That’s her, and here’s her number.” She repeated it slowly twice. “And don’t nag her, just do what she says.”
“I have a list of what I own by whom, and I’ll let her tell me which designer to wear. How does that sound?”
After yawning, Ellie said, “Sounds great. Now I have to run and get ready.”
“Will we see you today? Stanley and I were so hoping we would.”
“I’m on canine patrol, but I’ll be peeking out from behind the wings during the Nola Morgan contest. If you see me, wave, and I’ll wave back.”
She set the phone in its cradle and it buzzed again. Heaving another sigh, she answered. “Hello.”
“Hey, when are you leaving? Can T and I share a cab with you? It’ll be my treat as a thank-you for giving me the ticket,” said Viv.
“I don’t think you should bring Mr. T.” Ellie glanced at her boy, curled on his pillow next to her head. “There are too many dogs onsite as it is.”
“Well, crap.” Viv breathed a sigh of her own. “Okay, I’ll walk him, and maybe Amber can do him at noon. Will that be okay?”
“Fine by me. I have to call her anyway, so I’ll remind her. Oh, and do me a favor, please.”
“Sure, anything.”
“Call the ex—I mean Georgette—and tell her you’re willing to give her some help choosing an outfit for today.” Patti and Janice were late risers, and she knew Patti didn’t have an assignment until the middle of the morning. If she didn’t answer Georgette’s call, Ellie would be back to sparring with her mother, and she had no time for more mother-wrangling this morning. “She’ll appreciate it, and so will I.”
“You want me to talk to the ex-terminator?”
Thanks to Georgette’s four divorces, Viv never could call her mother by her real name. “Yes, phone Georgette. She’ll be agreeable, believe me.”
Ellie again set her phone in the charger. Then she concentrated on Rudy, sitting on his pillow like a sultan on his throne. That meant Sam hadn’t come home. Which wasn’t that odd, though he usually let her know he was working. If only he’d returned her call from last night.
“Are you ready to start your day?”
“This early?” He stretched his legs out in front of him, then flopped to his back and wriggled. Flipping around, he shook from head to tail, then jumped to the floor. “Okay, I’m all set. I just need a breakfast nibble to get started.”
“Give me a minute. I have to find something that’s comfortable for today but won’t make me look like an outcast at the party.”
She opened her closet door and focused. She had black wool slacks and a white silk blouse. If she wore that with a pale yellow cashmere pullover sweater, she might be able to get by.
She pulled everything out and, holding the sweater and slacks up to her front, turned. “Will this do?”
Rudy gave her his Buddhalike stare.
“Make sure you put on a little bling. Use that necklace with the single diamond that the defective detective gave you for Chris
tmas.”
“Got it, and I think I’ll actually wear a little makeup. That ought to do the trick.”
“Don’t forget the hair. Put that gel stuff in it that makes the curls shiny.”
“Okay, that too. I’ll give you your morning nibble, then shower and dress. Half an hour and we’re out of here.”
Chapter 12
Ellie, Rudy, and Vivian climbed out of the cab and headed for their usual entrance, the rear door of the Fashion Center.
“You could go in through the front, you know,” Ellie said to her best human friend. Viv wore an elegant long-sleeved wool dress the color of paprika. Smart and sexy, it showed off her mile-long legs and black, strappy Beverly Feldman shoes. “You have a ticket, so you’re legal. And you certainly look like you belong inside.”
“Thanks for the compliment, but it’s just eight thirty. Are they open to the public yet?”
“Hmm. I’m not sure but you might be right.” Ellie led the way, let Rudy water the small patch of lawn next to the walkway, and opened the door. Inside, chaos reigned. The caterers had added an extra table to the original they’d been using for the snack service and were piling it high with more substantial goodies. The dog pen was stationed closer in, so people had a broader walkway on the far side of the area, and the setup crew had squeezed two more chairs into the normal row.
Gofers and assistants raced past, dodging each other as if they were equipped with built-in sonar. People pushing or carrying piles of shoe boxes, racks of clothes, armfuls of fabric, hats, wigs, just about everything a body could wear, flew by at warp speed.
A tall, skeletal assistant with a cigarette hanging from her puffy pink lips slowed the parade when she spotted Rudy, who was sitting out of the line of traffic. “Is this dog yours?” she asked, blowing smoke from the side of her mouth.
“I’m my own man,” Rudy snarled.
“Yes, he’s mine,” said Ellie, a sinking feeling in her heart. What had her boy done now? “Why?”
The woman shifted the garments she was carrying to one arm, removed the cigarette, and tossed it on the floor. “He was over at Elie Saab’s station yesterday and he got underfoot. I tried to catch him but he darted through the crowd and tripped two models.”
“That wasn’t me.”
“He almost ruined the Givenchy show, too, and Riccardo Tisci was furious. Told me if I found the owner I should—”
“No, he should take a hike. His so-called designs are yesterday’s news.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Ellie, ignoring her boy’s commentary. Just as in all city establishments, smoking was banned in the Fashion Center because of the damage a match or dropped cigarette could do to the designer creations. Thanks to the woman’s careless attitude, she decided there was no reason to listen to her rant about Rudy. “I try to keep him here with me, but he’s like Houdini. He manages to escape no matter how I pen him in.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Triple E. And she’s stinkin’ up the place with those minitorches. I say we report her.”
“I’m just warning you to be more careful with him, that’s all. Next time, security will toss him out.” Leaving the butt on the floor, the girl stalked away, her thick black hair bobbing from the untidy bun on top of her head.
“They’d have to catch me first, and I move like a snake. I’d be gone before they saw me leave.”
Oblivious of Rudy’s snarky remarks, Viv turned up her nose. “And the ex-terminator was worried about what she planned to wear? Did you see what that woman had on? Ratty jeans, a striped tunic that looked about ten years old, and bald sneakers—no laces. And she’s a smoker. Someone should tell her she’s going to get wrinkles.”
“She’s not a model or a designer. Assistants aren’t in the spotlight, so they can wear whatever they want. And I say let her wrinkle. It’s what she deserves for being such a slob. But I do hope someone reads her the riot act for smoking on the premises.”
Ellie walked to the still-glowing cigarette, stepped on it, and carried the crushed butt to the trash bin. “I expect the models any minute now. You can sit here and watch, or you can take off on your own and find a designer ready to show. The choice is yours.”
Viv threaded her long fingers through her mink-brown, shoulder-length hair. “Maybe I’ll find that guy named Eduardo, the one who takes care of the cover models, and see if he’ll give me a couple of makeup tips.”
Ellie raised a brow, taking in her friend’s flawless complexion, perfectly outlined green eyes, and lightly stained lips. “You don’t need makeup tips. You look like you’re ready to walk the runway.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather hear it from a professional.” She took Ellie in from head to toe. “I must admit, you look good today. Not designer A, but a solid B in regular wear. You’re even sporting a full complement of war paint.” She gave a sly grin. “I can’t wait to meet Marcus David in person.”
“Hang on a second.” Ellie raised a hand. She was used to Viv critiquing her choice of clothes, but accusing her of dressing or wearing cosmetics for a man was an insult. “Do you think I did this to impress a guy?”
Viv’s expression segued to one of innocence. “Who, me? Nuh-uh. I know you’d never let a man influence what you wear or how you do your face. Still . . .”
“Still what?” Ellie asked in a loud whisper.
“You’ve talked about him quite a bit lately. That’s all.”
“Well, I didn’t dress like this for Marcus David. I did it for the big shindig they’re holding after the NMD winner is announced. Since I agreed to help Jeffery King get the charges dropped, I have more work to do than take care of the canines.”
Viv’s eyes opened wide. “You didn’t tell me. When did you make the final decision to help him? And does Sam know?”
“Sam and I have had different schedules for the past few days, so he isn’t aware of what I’m doing. And I plan to keep it that way.”
“The big dick wouldn’t understand.”
After straightening the dog pen, she pulled Rudy’s travel bed from her tote, placed him in the pen, and pointed a finger. “You are to stay here today. No visiting other shows or sticking your fuzzy snout where it doesn’t belong.”
“But stickin’ our fuzzy snouts into things is the reason we’re here!”
“I don’t want anyone to toss you out. No more messing around.”
He circled his bed and dropped to a sit. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I live to obey.”
“I still can’t get over the way he pays attention when you talk to him,” said Viv, studying Rudy through narrowed eyes. “It makes me believe what you told me at my sister’s house. You and Rudy really do communicate and understand exactly what the other is saying.”
Inside, Ellie cringed. She’d almost blown her big secret this past summer when she, Vivian, and their dogs had gone to the Hamptons. “You read Twink, don’t you? It’s the same with Rudy and me. We’re just a little more . . . emotional.”
She closed the dangerous conversation by scouting out the area, hoping to find Julie. A moment later, her new assistant, bright orange hair piled high on her head, trotted over leading Baby and Kiki.
“Look who I picked up. And while I was on rounds I ran into Marcus. He’s a little panicked because Claire is out and he has a new model, Beatriz Alfonso.”
“What happened to Claire?”
“He says she’s sick, and NMD was told by the CFDA to use this Beatriz person to replace her.”
“CFDA?” asked Ellie. She’d heard the initials, but couldn’t remember what they stood for.
“The Council of Fashion Design of America,” said Julie. “I talked to a few of the big names, and they said they’d never heard of her, but the council rules. And she looks good, fits a twelve, and owns a mini Schnauzer. Anyway, Marcus told me to ask you if you’d made up your mind.”
“About what?” Ellie and Viv asked at the same time.
Shrugging, Julie hustled the dogs into the pen. “Beats me. He acted like you’d k
now.”
Ellie raised a shoulder in Viv’s direction. “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
“I bet it’s tomorrow night’s big to-do at the NMD penthouse,” her boy reminded her.
She shook her head, giving Rudy a silent signal to keep quiet. “Really, I don’t. He did invite me to a party Saturday night, but since I’m invited, too, it wouldn’t be a date-date. He said we could go as friends but—”
“You’re not going?” Viv frowned. “Don’t be a dope. It can’t hurt to rub noses with this crowd. Imagine walking Calvin Klein’s dog, or Donna Karan’s. You could become a dog walker to the stars.”
Ellie jutted her chin toward Baby, a Yorkie with attitude, wearing a big yellow bow in her hair and a sable-colored fur pull-on coat. “No thanks. That little girl’s jacket probably cost six hundred dollars. I’d be the first to damage it.” She waved her hand to encompass all the dogs, including two who had just arrived with their models and were being passed over to Julie.
“My guess is those five canines are wearing duds from The Dog Store, Edward Alava’s luxury shop over on East Sixty-first, or maybe Lorilee Echternach’s fancy fashions. I’m such a klutz I’d ruin the clothes, and I can’t afford to replace them.”
“You don’t have to dress the dogs; you just have to walk them.” Viv sniffed. “And you’d make more money if you stuck to the going rate instead of giving your clients a break.”
Money might be Viv’s main line of business, but it was always a problem between Ellie and Sam. It irked him that she wouldn’t let him pay more than half the mortgage, but as far as she was concerned, the case was closed. Money just wasn’t that important to her.
Julie grabbed one of the models by the arm and pulled her over. “This is Beatriz, Ellie. Her dog is in the pen.”
Beatriz, a pretty woman who looked a bit older than the other models, smiled and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, and I know you’ll be fine with Lucy. My girl loves everyone.”
Ellie watched Beatriz walk away, noting her normal stride, which was very unmodel-like, and her larger-than-model-sized rear. “Interesting,” she muttered. “I just don’t see her as someone who fits in with such a big-scale event. They put such an emphasis on the perfect appearance around here.”
