"That's it?" Vidalia asked skeptically.
Eliza nodded, but she understood why the model looked doubtful. The dress, on its own, was supposed to be a show-stopper, but it still looked a little plain. It needed something. . . .
Eliza spied several gold chain belts lying on a cutting table.
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"Here," she said, draping the gold chains around the model's neck. "Put these on." Eliza layered gold-link necklace after gold-link necklace. Then she switched Vidalia's strappy sandals for a pair of brown crocodile leather thigh-high boots. It was supposed to be a spring/summer collection, but everyone was going to want a pair of boots this summer--cowboy boots, motorcycle boots, why not skyscraper croc? Sandals were so over. Feeling inspired, Eliza also spray-painted the edges of the dress for a dramatic finish.
The model grinned at her reflection. It was sexy, street, and luxe at the same time, hitting just the right note of savvy and super-expensive. It was the way everyone wanted to look right now, and somehow Eliza had articulated the desire with just the right accessories.
"Better, no?" Eliza asked.
"Perfecto," Vidalia agreed, now sounding for all the world like a European heiress.
They hugged each other, feeling an adrenaline high from a job well done, an outfit well planned. Eliza smiled, dropping to her knees to pin up the skirt hem to the right length.
But when her high faded, Eliza felt nervous. It was a risky move, styling the dress and switching the sandals for boots. Only the head stylists--seasoned Seventh Avenue veterans with years of magazine experience and fashion show production under their braided Marni belts--were supposed to style the clothes for presentation.
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Who knew how Sydney would react once he saw how Vidalia was wearing the dress? He might hate it. He might throw Eliza out of the studio for what she'd done. Eliza had seen it happen-- she'd been backstage at a fashion show last summer when the designer had thrown a glass of champagne at a makeup artist who'd had the audacity to lend a model his wraparound sunglasses for the show. The sunglasses hadn't been on the style sheet for that particular outfit. The designer had ripped the sunglasses off the model's head so violently, he'd pulled off her hair weave. The model had had to walk the runway bald as a newborn.
Eliza panicked. "You know, Vidalia, maybe we should have you take off these chains," she suggested. "Sydney might not like it."
But Vidalia only swatted Eliza's hand away. "It's great. Don't worry."
In any case, it was too late, since all the models were being called for a final run-through. Eliza took a deep breath and walked to the middle of room, hoping her first day at Sydney's studio wouldn't be her last.
25
jacqui babysits a thirty-three-year-old
BEHIND THE CLOSED DOOR, JACQUI COULD HEAR ANNA AND
Kevin continue to quarrel about his inability to listen to his wife and her inability to let him do his job. She knew Anna and Kevin weren't mad at her. They were just using her tardiness as an excuse to yell at each other---something they did much too often these days. Jacqui knew that some of it stemmed from Anna's growing insecurity about growing older--she'd almost shot her hairstylist when he pointed out a few gray strands of hair at her last appointment.
Jacqui didn't know how two people could drive each other so crazy. Anna nagged Kevin about everything from his table manners to his golf drive. Kevin squabbled with Anna over the credit card bills and the maid's housekeeping. Anna had a penchant for hurling the closest object at hand, and so far, several of her prized Lladro animal figurines had shattered in the heat of battle.
Last week before a dinner party they were hosting in their apartment, Kevin had broken Anna's treasured Mason Pearson hairbrush in two in a fit of temper. "That's a six-hundred-dollar hairbrush!" Anna had wailed in agony, and in retaliation had
26
flicked his ear so hard during the ensuing battle that she'd broken cartilage. Enraged, Kevin had called Anna "abusive" and threatened to call 911. Things only calmed down when their guests arrived, wondering why Kevin's head was in a bandage.
Jacqui had quickly learned to usher the children away from witnessing the battles of World War III. She was an even-tempered, sunny-side-of-the-street kind of girl. She liked things to be amicable. Even her breakup with Kit Ashleigh couldn't have been more civil.
The two of them had dated soon after Jacqui had moved to New York. At first, things were great, but it soon became evident that they didn't work as a couple--Kit lost his cool every time another guy even looked at Jacqui (which was often) and Jacqui got tired of having to assure him 24/7 of her love. The last straw was when Kit didn't even want to take her to the newest club he was promoting because if they stayed home, then she was safe from the competition. Part of the reason she was drawn to him was because Kit always had a lot of fun. But somehow the two of them together only stressed him out. She could tell he'd almost been relieved when she broke it off--almost as if he'd been expecting it. Still, she was grateful they had been able to part as friends.
After Kit, she had dated a few boys--no one special, no one who made her breath catch
in her throat and her skin tingle just at the sight of him. But Jacqui was an optimistic person. She would be open to love, and she would listen when it came knocking. After all, she had time to wait.
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Like the way she could wait for NYU. They'd sent her an e-mail explaining that their decision hinged on one tiny, minuscule, nagging little detail. A problem with translating credits from her school back in Brazil. Some bureaucratic mess. Once it was cleared up, she would be sharing notes with some underage supermodel and a lone Olsen twin before she knew it.
Nothing really bothered Jacqui. After all, when you're five-ten, built like Gisele Bundchen, with a smile as blinding as the sun, what was there to worry about? Plus, she was looking forward to another summer in the Hamptons--hanging out with Mara and Eliza again--and she wouldn't have any more pesky SAT classes to keep her from partying up a storm. It was going to rock! She deserved a break after working so hard all year.