by Marie Meyer
“What’s his name?” she asked, poking a cherry tomato with her fork.
I smiled. “Griffin Daniels.”
Chandra swallowed and took a quick drink. “The lead singer of Mine Shaft?”
My eyebrows pulled together. I wasn’t used to people recognizing Griffin’s name. “Uh, yeah? How do you know about Mine Shaft?”
She sat her Styrofoam cup on the table and grinned. “I love indie rock. I’ve downloaded the few songs they have on iTunes. Your boyfriend is Griffin Daniels?”
It was hard to comprehend that the guy I’d known since I was six years old was becoming a public figure—a name and a face people would instantly recognize. So weird. “Yeah,” I answered. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. It’s a long story, but over Christmas, things changed.”
“Wow. That’s so cool.” She smiled. “It really is a small world.” Chandra shook her head, looking a little starstruck.
“I’ll have to tell Griffin he’s got a fan from Michigan. He’ll love it.” I ate the last cucumber and pushed my plate away. “Are you ready to get to the lab?” I asked.
She looked at her watch and finished the last of her soda. “Yep, we need to go.”
We discarded our trash and walked briskly through the quad on our way back to the studio building.
Once Professor Vine got the lab started, Chandra and I were so busy we didn’t have time to talk. The pattern for our third ensemble was due today, and I had yet to finish mine.
* * *
By the time I glanced at the clock, I had less than twenty minutes to wrap up my spandex pencil skirt template and hand it in to Professor Vine. I’d make it; pencil skirts weren’t that difficult to make, which meant their patterns weren’t that hard to draw.
I’d chosen a model from Professor Vine’s list of TAs. My patterns were drawn to Tina Nelson’s specific requirements as listed on Professor Vine’s syllabus. I prayed that Tina’s measurements hadn’t changed, I’d tried contacting her, but she was impossible to reach.
“Five more minutes,” Professor Vine called out. The room got louder as everyone hurried to finish and put things away. It had been a long day, and I was ready for it to end. Thankfully, after this class, I had the rest of the day off.
“Need any help, Jillian?” Chandra asked as she cleaned up her work station.
I ignored Chandra for one second while I finished up. “Just one…more facing…dart…and I’m….done.” I snipped through the top of my pattern, cutting away the paper that would be used to make the facing of my skirt. I turned to Chandra and smiled. “Nope, I’m finished.” I held up my pattern and smiled at my handiwork. “Thanks, though.”
“No problem.” She placed all of her utensils in a carrying case and zipped it shut.
“Well, three down, two to go,” I sighed, gathering my scraps together.
“I think I’m going to be living here from now until the end of the semester,” Chandra added.
I tossed the scraps into the recycle bin and agreed. “I think you’re right.”
“Do you have any of your pieces finished? Besides the one you completed last semester,” she asked.
“Yeah. Over break I made another dress.” I hoped it would fit Tina. “Do you?” I asked, putting my things away.
Chandra shook her head. “Just the two pieces from last semester, I haven’t worked on anything else since break. That was the downside to going to Paris.”
“Jillian, do you have your pattern?” Professor Vine asked, walking over to my station.
My eyes scanned the table. “Oh, yes, right here. I’m sorry. I meant to bring it up.” I plucked it from the table and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” Professor Vine took my pattern. “I’m on my way out, ladies. Since you’re the last two here, please lock up on your way out.”
“We will, Professor,” Chandra answered.
After I finished cleaning up my work station, Chandra and I locked up the studio and headed back to our dorms. Chandra’s dorm was closer to campus than mine. She dug her access card from her purse and said, “Thanks for lunch, Jillian. It was nice talking to you.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty more opportunities as the Showcase gets closer.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” She started walking up the sidewalk and waved. “’Bye, Jillian.”
I trekked across campus, toward Victor. Sarah wouldn’t be back until later, so that left me with some quality time with my sketches. I planned to work on my remaining three patterns. Once I got those out of the way, the real fun started…bringing the images inside my head to life.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Griffin!” I yelled. Since he’d been touring Mexico for the last three weeks, it felt like ages since I’d heard from him.
Even with the grainy FaceTime picture, I could still see a wide grin across his face. “Hi, Bean.” His voice came over the iPad, garbled and hard to understand. We had a terrible connection.
I stood up from my bed and moved closer to the door, hoping my proximity to the router would strengthen the signal. “Where are you guys now?” I asked. He’d been to so many different cities, I couldn’t keep them straight in my head.
“We’re in Cancún,” he shouted. It was really noisy there.
“Awesome. It looks like you’re getting some sun,” I said. His usual olive complexion was much richer.
“Yeah, most of our shows have been open-air venues,” he commented. “We’re headed back to the States in a couple days,” he added. “We’ve got shows booked in Texas, Oklahoma, and Missouri before we get to come home.”
“You’re a busy man.” I nodded.
I could tell Griffin was walking. The picture on the screen kept bouncing. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“We’ve got a show in twenty minutes. I’m just getting things together.” He picked up his bass, holding it up to the screen.
I smiled. “That one’s cool, but I much prefer its likeness on you,” I said, wagging my eyebrows for effect.
Griffin got really close to the screen and whispered, “And I like when you play that one.” His voice was low and insistent.
Heat spread over my cheeks and a slow, burning want spread through my core. It had been two months since I’d kissed him…two months too long. “I miss you,” I breathed.
“It’s been too fucking long.” He nodded in agreement.
Walking up behind Griffin was Pauly, Mine Shaft’s keyboardist and guitarist. He rested his chin on Griffin’s shoulder and waved. “Hi, Jillian. You better be sweet talking this dude.” Pauly turned to look at Griffin. “He’s feeling left out.”
Griffin scowled. “Shut the fuck up.” He shrugged and put his hand in Pauly’s face, clearing him off his shoulder. “Don’t listen to a thing he says, Bean.”
I was confused. “Why are you feeling left out?” I asked.
Pauly stuck his head back in the screen, “There’s a lot of tail here, girl. But, no worries, your boy is behaving himself.” Now I understood. The others were all hooking up.
“Fuck, man. Back off!” Griffin yelled, knocking Pauly out of the way.
“’Bye, Jillian!” Pauly shouted as he stumbled to the side. I could still hear him laughing in the background.
Griffin righted the iPad and his face came back onto the screen. “I’m sorry,” Griffin said, running his hand through his hair.
I smiled. “It’s okay. He seems to be enjoying himself.” I chuckled.
“Let’s just say Adam and Pauly are taking full advantage of spring break.” Griffin rolled his eyes.
“Adam? What happened to Trina?” I asked. The last I’d heard they were still going strong.
“She dumped his ass,” Griffin smirked. “She said he was a hothead, and she was tired of his outbursts.”
I nodded, raising my eyebrow in understanding. “He doesn’t seem too broken up about it.”
“Not in the slightest,” Griffin crooned.
“A
nd Thor?” I asked.
Griffin climbed a flight of stairs and the sun beat down onto the screen. He turned around, and I could see his face again. “Nope. He’s still into Harper. Hey, Bean,” Griffin said abruptly. “I’ve got to go; they’re calling for me.”
“Oh, okay.” Disappointment shot through me. I wasn’t ready to say good-bye. “Good luck,” I said, trying to hide my sadness. “I love you.”
“Promise?”
I smiled. “Forever.”
“I fucking love that,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. A curl fell onto his forehead and he shoved it back. “I love you, Bean. Talk to you soon.”
“Soon.” I kissed my fingers and pressed them to his lips on the screen. He smiled and the call ended.
* * *
For the last two months, Chandra and I had spent all of our free time in the studio. Our designs were taking shape along with our friendship. I saw Chandra more often than I did my own roommate. On occasion, Sarah would visit us or bring us food when we were too busy to leave the studio. But for the most part, it was just Chandra and me.
“Will you help me pin this fabric?” Chandra handed me a pin holder shaped like a cat. I took the cat and slipped a few pins between my lips, then pulled a few more out, pinching them between my fingertips. Chandra stretched the material across the dress form while I pinned.
“How’s your mom doing?” I asked. Chandra’s mom had lost her job and wasn’t doing so well financially. “Any job prospects?”
“No. I’m still sending her the small paycheck I get from working at the Student Union. I keep hoping something will open up for her, though. She’s so proud; she hates that I have to send her my spending money.”
“I don’t know how you do it. You work, go to class, and spend every other hour of the day here.”
“Sleep is for the weak!” She laughed. “I need a pin right here.” Chandra nodded with her head.
I slid the pin through the fabric where she indicated and said, “I’ll remember that.”
“Have you met with your model lately?” she asked. “What’s her name again?”
“Tina.” I growled her name as if it was a swear word. “Funny you should mention her. We’re supposed to have another fitting in—” I checked the clock— “twenty minutes.”
Chandra walked around to the other side of the dress form and started draping the back. “She can’t be that bad.”
I followed her, sliding pins into place. “She’s not that bad…she’s the devil. Stick around, you’ll see.”
“I think I’ll pass. Besides, I have to work.” I slipped the last pin into place and Chandra let go of the fabric. “Hey, I’m sorry to leave you with this mess, but I’ve really got to get to the Union.” Chandra pinned her name to the partially draped form and wheeled it into line with the rest of the headless torsos.
I waved her on. “Go, I’ve got this.”
“Good luck with your fitting.” Chandra hugged me and slung her bags over her shoulder. “Talk to you later.”
“See you,” I said as she ran out of the classroom.
I had ten minutes before Tina’s fitting. I gathered my equipment, sure to have everything ready. I didn’t want to deal with her any longer than necessary. I glanced at the clock: 7:00 p.m.
Twenty minutes later, Tina waltzed in like I should be bowing at her feet.
“Can we get this over with? I have a date,” she snapped.
I was tempted to tell Professor Vine how unreasonable Tina was to work with. For someone being paid for her responsibilities as a TA, she certainly wasn’t very approachable. “Why did you schedule a date when you knew you had a fitting tonight?” I asked.
She glowered at me. “What am I trying on today?”
I held up the dress I’d made at Christmas. Even though I had made it according to my measurements, Tina would have to wear it in the show.
“Here.” I tossed her the dress. She stalked to the corner and slipped behind the decorative accordion room divider—the studio’s makeshift dressing room.
As Tina removed her clothes, she flipped them over the top of the divider. “Did you even look at the measurements in the syllabus,” she grumbled.
“Yes,” I sighed.
“Then you might want to brush up on your measurement skills because this dress does not fit.”
She stepped out from behind the divider and it took all my strength not to erupt into a fit of laughter. I literally bit my tongue. Tina was taller than me (most people were), but where the dress fell just above mid-thigh on me, it fell about mid-buttocks on Tina. It looked ridiculous.
“I am not wearing this dress,” she said.
While possible solutions to the problem ran through my head, I also pondered why Tina felt the need to overemphasize at least one word in every sentence she spoke.
“Relax. I’ll fix the dress.” I picked up my measuring tape from the table and measured from the hem of the dress to Jillian’s mid-thigh. The dress was a good five inches short. Damn. I would have to alter my design to fix this problem, and I didn’t have time for this kind of setback. “You can take it off,” I said, folding my measuring tape.
She eyed me balefully. “Are we finished?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Thank God,” Tina said.
Tina ran back behind the divider and changed back into her own clothes faster than she’d got into my dress. She tossed the dress in my direction. “Good luck with this piece of crap,” she said, grabbing her purse and walking toward the door.
“Thanks for all your valuable help. I really appreciate it.” Little did Tina know, I used to live with someone who spewed vitriol. A younger, more impressionable me would have cowered under a table the second Tina opened her mouth, but I wasn’t that scared little girl anymore. Griffin was proud of me. So were Sarah and Chandra. I had an Army of Proud behind me, but most important of all…I was proud of me.
* * *
I locked up the studio and stepped outside. A warm breeze tossed my red-streaked hair into my face. I brushed it out of my eyes and walked briskly to Victor, listening to Griffin’s voice streaming through my earbuds.
Mine Shaft’s first LP, Buried, had skyrocketed to the top of the indie charts within a week. Like any fangirl, I’d downloaded the album the day it was released, and I hadn’t stopped listening to it since. Even though we couldn’t be together, I still had the benefit of hearing his voice whenever I wanted. Or needed.
“About Time”, my song, filtered through the tiny speakers as I walked through the deserted quad on my way back to the dorm.
I unlocked my door and pushed it open. “Hey, Sarah,” I said, dropping my bags in front of my closet.
“Hey. How was Modelzilla?” she asked, looking up from the stack of photos on her bed.
I dropped on my bed and groaned. “Oh, so pleasant…as she stomps through my city of dreams leaving nothing but destruction in her wake,” I said sarcastically.
“Nice,” she crooned.
I looked over at her and asked, “How’s your project coming?”
“I’m getting there. I’ve decided that my feature will be the Spring Showcase. I’m going to chronicle several designers as they work their way to the big day. So, I was thinking.” She pushed the snapshots to the side and stood up, batting her long eyelashes at me. “Would you and Chandra mind if I hung around while you worked? I need tons of photos.”
I sat up and smiled. “I think that’s a great idea. We don’t get to see each other enough as it is. I’d love to have you around, and I’m sure Chandra wouldn’t mind.”
“Really?” she smiled hesitantly.
“Of course,” I reassured her.
“You know,” she shrugged, “some designers like their stuff to remain a secret until the big reveal on the catwalk. I didn’t want to pry or anything.”
“Nonsense. You’re welcome in the studio any time. My designs are by no means ‘top secret’.”
“Awesome.” She smiled and bou
nced back over to her bed. “What are your plans tonight? Want to get some dinner?”
“I’d love to, but unfortunately Modelzilla happens to be very tall and my dress looks like a shirt on her. I have some serious alterations to work on.” I cringed.
I collapsed back onto my bed, trying to locate some untapped reservoir of energy. I needed it; those aforementioned alterations were as daunting as hell. Right as my eyes closed, a muffled Mine Shaft song began to play. I was across the room in an instant, pulling my phone out of my purse.
“I’m going over to Brandon’s. I’ll be back in a little bit.” Sarah said, slipping on her shoes. She picked up her keys and purse. “Tell Griffin I said hi.” She winked at me and was out the door as I accepted the call.
“Hey, Griff!” I said breathlessly. It’d been a damn long week since we’d last talked.
“Hey, Bean!” he shouted. I could hear a punk band playing in the background. “Ahh, it’s good to hear your voice. God, I needed that.”
My heart skipped a couple of beats. “Sorry, I don’t know what that’s like,” I teased. “I get to hear your voice whenever I want.”
He let out a short chuckle. “You keep talking like that, and I’m going make you record me an album.”
I laughed. “Ha! I don’t think so!”
“It’s nice to hear you laugh.”
“I miss you, Griff,” I said, getting serious. “Would you send me a picture of the show?” I felt like I was missing so much.
“Sorry, Bean…I…didn’t…What did…say?”
The line was breaking up. All I could hear was static. “Send me a picture!” I shouted.
“A picture?” he yelled.
“Yes!”
“I’ll have one of the roadies take one while I’m on stage. I’ll send it after the show.”
I smiled, glad that he’d heard me. “Thanks. I’m so proud of you, Griffin.”
“I’m proud of you too, Bean. Look, the opening act is finishing up. I gotta go. I love you, Jillian.”
“Griff,” I said loudly. I didn’t want him to hang up yet. “Be careful flying back tonight.” It made me sick that he was taking a flight to his next tour stop in Texas.
