Madeline was right. Too much was riding on this. If she botched this, she’d lose her internship and probably her grant as well. She’d never be able to afford tuition on her own. Not now. She’d have to leave school. And, like Dante warned, her career would be in serious jeopardy.
She lowered the visor and checked her appearance in the mirror. “Keep your head down and do the job. Pretend last night never happened. If you see Vega, don’t make eye contact. Even if his dark, espresso eyes make your knees sweat. Don’t think about how he smells like warm spice. Forget that little rasp in his voice when he whispers in your ear with that delicious accent. And whatever you do, don’t look at his hands, dammit. Worship him from afar!”
Dante Rizzoli was waiting for her outside his office. “Good Morning, Ms. Baskins.”
“Good Morning, Mr. Rizzoli.”
“I think we need to have a little chat.” He held open the door to his office.
Chapter Four
Emily swallowed the lump in her throat as she passed Dante and entered his office. “Mr. Rizzoli, I can explain.”
“Can you?” Dante held up a sheet of paper. “It’s not every day I get a note from Vega regarding a lowly intern.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “He wants you in plaster.”
“Physically?” Em’s head was spinning. Was this like cement shoes? Was she headed to the bottom of Highland Lake?
“Evidently he sees great potential in you. Most interns don’t start in the plaster room.”
“Oh, plaster room.”
“You’ll be working on pre-polish. One of the steps in the molding process.”
“For his bronzes.” Em nodded.
“Correct. If you handle that well, we’ll move you into final polish and molding.”
Her head jerked back. Did he just say final polish? “That’s amazing.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He gave her another appraising look. “Any idea why you’re getting preferential treatment? The plaster room is a third or fourth year pay-level assignment. I would have started you in cleanup or, at the least, prep.”
Play dumb, play dumb. “I haven’t a clue.” She shrugged. “But I’m thrilled. The extra pay aside, I never dreamed I’d get anywhere near a final piece.”
“Well, I know never to argue with Vega. His studio. His rules. If he wants you in plaster, then that’s where you’ll be. I guess you can’t get into too much trouble there. Come. Follow me. I’ll show you where you’ll be working.”
Dante led Emily through the busy studio. He pointed out a large work area encompassing the entire back corner. “While you’re here, you’re free to work on your own pieces during off hours. You pay supply costs, of course, but the space and use of the tools is free. Plus, every two weeks I put in a large supply order for the studio. There’s a request box outside my office. I can get anything you need at cost—within reason. The restrooms are over there. Model dressing rooms, there. Lockers, over there. I’ll get you set up with one by the end of the day.”
A high strip of paned windows ringed the building, pulling in an abundance of natural light. Large metal industrial lamps hung from tall ceilings and lit each work area.
Artists of all descriptions sketched, carved and molded. Wet clay scented the air.
For an active studio, it was surprisingly quiet. Many wore headphones and talk was little louder than a whisper. The soft rhythmic thump, thump, thump of a mallet to a chisel carried no echo in the cavernous space.
Em couldn’t help but look toward the curtain area comprising Vega’s private space. No loud Italian cursing today. There was no sign he was even there, although if the energy in the room was any indication, he was. Sequestered behind his pleated walls, his presence was palpable. Rilassarsi. Relax… Yes, he was there. She could feel him.
“Are you okay?”
Emily stumbled, startled. Dante had been talking, and she’d missed it. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“Yesterday you were talking like a wind-up doll in overdrive. And today, nothing.” He squinted at her. “I don’t know which one worries me more.”
“I’m fine. Really. Just taking it all in.” She gave him a one-shoulder shrug.
Dante stood for another beat, appraising her. “Shall we continue?”
They’d reached what Emily believed to be the far end of the studio. Huge sliding doors stood before them. “You’ll be working back here.” He indicated a smaller door on one side. “We use the sliders to move large pieces in and out. Otherwise, you come and go through here.
When the door opened, Em felt like she’d stepped onto a different planet. Loud music thumped a heavy bass beat through the entire department. Compared to the quiet of the other, the room was deafening. The temperature was a good ten degrees warmer, too. Dust hung in the sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Two enormous fans sat high in opposite walls, their blades a blur. They rumbled like jet planes. Three industrial mixers churned while those manning the process shouted at one another to be heard over the din.
Dante gave a shrill whistle and waved at someone across the room. A large woman barked at the man standing next to her before heading in their direction. She pulled off her dust mask and tugged out earplugs. The woman was a linebacker with breasts—big breasts.
“Crystal, this is the intern I told you about. Emily Baskins.” He held out his clipboard. “Emily, this is Crystal LeMar. She’s in charge back here. You’ll be reporting directly to her. She’ll be the one keeping track of your internship hours.”
“You mean babysitting,” the woman sneered as she snatched the clipboard from Dante and flipped through the pages.
Emily held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure—”
Crystal LeMar’s icy stare stopped her. She looked Emily over like she was buying a used cow. “She’s not gonna be able to move no hundred pounds.”
“Then she’ll have help.”
Crystal slapped the clipboard against a denim thigh. A cloud of dust ringed her hips. “I haven’t got time to be holding her hand!”
“Vega wants her back here!” Dante swatted the air.
The woman’s lips pinched off her next comment. She glared at Emily again and rolled her eyes. Lifting the clipboard, she studied the paperwork. “Pre-polish? There’s no way she’s assigned in there. Give me a break.”
“I’m more than qualified to work pre-polish on a plaster cast. I’ve been building my own mother molds for the last five years.”
“Not in Vega Studio you haven’t. We don’t work in Play-Doh here.”
What did she just say? Emily raised her hand. “Now just a minute—”
Dante whistled a shrill halt before Emily could further explain her experience to Ms. LeMar, courtesy of a few choice words she was more than likely to understand. “This isn’t up for debate. Crystal, you’re the best Casting Manager we’ve had, but if it’s beneath you to—”
“It’s fine,” she sneered.
“Fine,” Dante countered. “Is it fine with you, too, Ms. Baskins?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” Dante pinched the bridge of his nose. “If that’s settled, I’ll leave you two to get better acquainted.” He scowled in Crystal’s direction. “Don’t kill her.”
Crystal rolled her eyes. “Try not to.”
Dante wasn’t through the door before Crystal LeMar flipped him the bird. Nice. Ten weeks was going to feel like ten years with this woman.
“Follow me,” she barked. “Try not to get yourself killed.”
Emily let out a breath. She followed the broad back of Ms. LeMar, watching her shake her head and slap the clipboard against her thigh. “I hope to hell you ain’t one of those wimpy types who cry every time she gets a booboo.”
Em thought it best to ignore the jibe. She’d prove she was tougher than she looked.
Crystal stopped short and spun on her. “This is hard, grueling work back here, and if you think I’m gonna cater to one of Vegas’ little chippies and disrupt my department, you’ve g
ot another think coming.”
“I’m not one of Vega’s—whatever you called them.”
“Whatever.” Crystal flipped her hand.
The tension in Emily’s neck cranked up another notch. She did not just show me the hand! Her fingernails bit into her palms.
“You keep up and keep your mouth shut, or you’re out. I don’t care what Rizzoli says. I’m in charge back here. Got that, princess?”
Emily set her jaw and threatened to reduce her teeth to dust. “Got it.”
A short time later, she was outfitted with the proper safety equipment and warned never to be in the area without it. She was given a fast tour around the casting department and left at her station with orders to get familiar with her tools.
She pulled a deep breath through her dust mask. Exhale steamed her face beneath the itchy cover and escaped to fog her goggles. Cleaning them, she took a minute to look around.
Huge plaster molds lined the walls, each numbered and labeled. Some had wide rubber belting. Three enormous mixers churned plaster into a creamy slip, which moved swiftly to the pouring stations. Aside from her work in creating plaster positives of a sculpture, the Vega Studio also used the classic technique of the lost wax method to cast some of the smaller pieces.
Her job was to inspect the plaster copies, or positives, before a mold was formed for the final bronze pour. It saved the original sculpture’s value while allowing multiple copies to be made. Pre-polish dealt with any air bubbles in the plaster or other imperfections which would be transferred to the finished piece. She was in charge of finding those mars and repairing them. Some of the larger pieces used up to fifteen separate molds. Seams needed to be invisible. The quality of those seams and repairs at this stage meant the difference between a professional bronze and that of an amateur. Em looked at her impressive array of tools.
“Baskins!” Crystal’s bellow made her jump. “Put those goggles back on and get over here!” She pointed to a rough cast statue of a dancer. The lines of which were pure magic. It was not quite full size, but it was still impressive at three-quarter scale. “Move this into your bay.”
“Move?” The piece must weigh two hundred pounds.
“Too much for you, your highness?” Crystal crossed her muscled arms across her ample chest and tipped her head, giving Emily a smug smirk.
“No. Not at all.” She set her jaw, got behind the statue and gave it a hard shove. The dancer didn’t move an inch.
Crystals smirk got bigger. As did Emily’s determination. The piece was on a tall, wheeled base. All she had to do was get it rolling. She put her shoulder into it and pushed off with her legs as hard as she could. Nothing. Sweat broke out on her face as she tried a third time. LeMar’s laughter stopped her.
“You might want to take the wheel brakes off, Hercules.”
Panting, Emily narrowed her eyes but kept her mouth shut. She flipped the toe lock on each wheel, and gave it another push. That was more like it, but still the piece was heavy and ungainly and it required all her muscle to get it from one side of the room to the other.
Crystal checked her watch. “Bravo. That only took you twice as long as it should have. We’re off to a fine start.”
Emily relocked the wheels and stood regaining her breath, puffing her cheeks. The muscles in her legs burned, but she’d done it.
Crystal shook her head. “You won’t last the day.” She turned to walk away.
Emily straightened. “You can keep trying, but you won’t break me.”
Crystal spun back. “What’s this? A backbone?”
“Hey, I get it. You don’t want me here. I’m just as shocked as you. But you need to know small and blonde doesn’t mean weak and dumb. I know my stuff, and I’m stronger than I look. I’d love to learn what you can teach me. That’s why I’m an intern. We don’t need to be best friends or anything, but you need to know I’ll work my butt off for you.”
“What butt?” Crystal shook her head. “I’ve got an eight-year-old son with more ass than you.”
“Lucky him,” muttered Emily. She wouldn’t win any points with this woman. This was going to be one long, ugly internship. “Do you know what a pain it is to buy jeans in the boy’s department?” She slapped at her hips.
Crystal snorted.
Was that a laugh?
“I wouldn’t know.” She hitched her pants. “I’ve had these since I was four.”
“It’s pretty bad when you flunk Hula Hoop in kindergarten.”
“Ha,” she barked and narrowed her eyes. “There may be hope for you after all.” Crystal jerked her head toward the statue. “So get busy showing me what you can do. I’ll be back to check.”
Wow, that almost sounded like a crack in the ice. Em blew out a breath and wiped the sweat at her temples. It was a start. But hey, the day was young.
Emily picked up a sheet of fine sandpaper and inspected the piece. She hadn’t lied to Crystal earlier. She was shocked. This was a third year assignment at least. She’d never known of anyone walking into this kind of internship first year. Did her work secure her the position or could last night’s encounter with Vega have been responsible? Whatever the reason, she needed to be at the top of her game. Part of her was thrilled—if she could get past the urge to toss up Mr. Happy’s nose. Riding that push broom wouldn’t have been so bad.
Near the end of the day, Emily was covered head to toe in plaster dust. Thank goodness for the goggles and mask. Crystal stood behind her, watching how she smoothed a seam joining a hand to a wrist. While they had forged some kind of odd truce over her lack of ass, Em still had a lot to prove.
The whirling of the mixers was near deafening as she used a strip of polishing cloth to smooth the side of a finger. Not too hard. Fingers were the most delicate.
The three mixers shut off all at once. “BASKINS!”
Startled, Emily stared in horror at the plaster pinkie in her hand. Oh, my God!
Crystal’s mouth dropped open.
Dante stood at the door with his hands on his hips. Emily’s eyes darted between the two. “I-I, um…” She handed Crystal the broken finger. “This was loose.”
Pulling at her dust mask, she rushed toward Dante. Of the two, he was the least frightening. The odd expression on his face, however, had her contemplating turning back to face the wrath of Crystal. Looking over her shoulder Crystal was coming at her like a freight train. The tiny hairs on her neck stood on end.
“Y-yes, Dante?”
“Vega wants to see you.”
Chapter Five
“Me? Vega want to see me?”
“Yes, you. Why do you suppose that is?” Dante folded his arms over his chest.
Crystal’s angry bull breath fanned the back of Emily’s neck.
“I have no idea, but I shouldn’t keep him waiting, should I?”
She slid past Dante and shot through the door before he could answer. The noise of the casting room still buzzed in her ears. She was sure she resembled the little boy from Charlie Brown who moved in his own cloud of dirt. Pulling off her goggles and tearing the dust mask from around her neck, she brushed furiously at her clothing before skidding to a stop in front of Vega’s curtain. Should she knock? How did a person knock on a curtain?
She slipped inside. The same feeling from last night hit her. This was sacred space somehow, and she was in the presence of greatness. Mr. “Greatness” was standing behind a workstation in the far corner. Before him a clay figure’s gentle form was taking shape beneath his skilled hands. Clay stained him to his wrists. He wasn’t wearing an apron, although several hung on pegs on the back wall. His soft gray shirt hugged the muscles of his arms. Long sleeves were pushed past his elbows. Faded jeans bore chalky smears of clay below each hip.
Emily recognized those smears. When she was busy with a piece, she never slowed down to wipe her hands on the rags scattered through her work space, not when the back of her pants was handy. She smiled that somehow they shared smudged pants. Beneath all the fame
and fortune, he wiped his hands on his ass just like she did. Was that like discovering your favorite sports figure ate the same breakfast cereal as you?
The block of snowy marble still stood prominently in the center of the space. Today it bore new markings.
“Excuse me?” Emily whispered.
Vega turned. Dark eyes lifted and met hers. Even from across the room, his gaze felt like a caress.
“Come.”
She passed the white stone sentry, needing to reach out as she did so to steady her shaky knees. “You wanted to see me?”
“Si. Yes. Please sit.” He motioned to a tall stool nearby. Turning away from her, he washed his hands in a deep work sink. With his back to her, she finished the study of his jeans. Yes, the fit of that clay-smudged denim was quite impressive. Not to mention the play of his knit Henley across a broad spread of his shoulders. She chewed a thumbnail and tasted plaster.
Drying his hands, he faced her. “How is your first day?”
Should she tell him about the pinkie? “Um, fine.”
“Good. You’re happy with plaster?”
Crystal’s angry face flashed through her mind. “Yes. Thank you. I was surprised to be assigned such an advanced position. It was your decision?”
“Si.”
“Why?” The word blurted from her mouth.
He cocked an eyebrow.
“I mean, I’m grateful. Don’t get me wrong. It’s an incredible opportunity. I just…”
“You question my decision?” He crossed his arms and frowned.
“No, no. Yes.” She ran a nervous hand through her hair. Dust fell. She tried to wave it away. “I’m curious. It’s a bad habit of mine.”
“I put you there because you helped me. Your work tells me you can do the job.” He placed his hands on his hips. “And I want something in return.”
Beating around the bush didn’t seem to be one of Vega’s talents.
“Something from me?”
Rock Solid Page 3
