We made our grand entrance together through Fordham Agencies’ big glass doors. “Oliver, good to see ya back, buddy!” said one of the graphic designers as he cut past us, patting Oliver on the shoulder.
“Hi Olly,” squeaked one of the secretaries.
“Welcome back, Oliver,” purred a half-naked model with long platinum hair.
He gave a nod and a smile to all. Most people would be puffed up with ego at the attention he was getting lately, but Oliver remained completely unaffected. He merely returned the warm embrace the office seemed to give to him.
We went to the studio where racks of clothing awaited the professional models who would never come.
“Well,” I said out loud, looking down at my phone. “That was Jen. She’s doing video. Ivy and Ella are on their way. The car is dropping them off at the set. So. . . it’s all coming together.”
Hair dresser and make-up artist Stefania popped her head around the corner. She was wearing a black turtleneck, her hair short like Twiggy, and purple lipstick.
“Bobbie, we’re ready for you,” she informed. “You need to be in for hair and make-up in the next thirty minutes. I saved you a spot, and your outfit is hanging in your office. I got you the cheetah jacket.”
“Yep, thanks. One sec,” I replied.
“So, Bobbie,” said Olly, pointing down the hall. “I’ll just—”
“Yes, please, go! Thank you!” I blew him a kiss and ran to my office. Lilly was talking on the phone, sitting in my chair with her feet up on my desk.
She hopped up. “Sorry!”
“Pretending to be an agent?” I asked.
“Ye-yeah.”
“Keep your feet off my desk. What’s the word?”
“I contacted all the models you told me to contact, and we’re pretty much able to get at least half of them here in the next hour for hair and makeup.”
“Pretty much able or able?”
“Able.”
“Great,” I said. “Good job. Can you list the names, please?”
“Sure,” she sighed dramatically. “Women: Ariel Truman, Danielle Munson, Alessandra Valentino. . .” Lilly looked up at me.
“Okay, great, Lilly. And how about the men?” I asked, as I opened a drawer and grabbed my phone charger.
“Well, she said. “I don’t think you’re going to like this.”
I knelt to plug the charger in under my desk. “I won’t like what?”
Lilly sighed again. “All I’ve got so far is Chance Brooks.”
I raised up too quickly, hitting my head on my desk. Charlie. Dear God. “Excuse me,” I said. “Did you say Chance Brooks? Wasn’t he already booked?”
“Well, yes, but that was cancelled. Anyway, he’s the only one I could get ahold of. I tried others, but he was the only one available, at least so far!” When she saw my expression, she cringed. I wanted to throw her out the window.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
It’s not her fault. It’s not her fault. I continued to chant it to myself, hoping to lower my skyrocketing blood pressure. “It’s okay, Lilly. Thank you. I’m going to make-up now. . .”
After spending twenty-five minutes in hair and make-up, I called a driver to escort Lilly and me over to the set where they were shooting a 1970s rock theme on the roof of Vertigo Sky Lounge. It was my job to make sure that everything was up to Wolfe’s standards.
We pulled up at Vertigo Sky Lounge; I grabbed Lilly’s hand and we ran in, jumping into the elevator that would take us to the rooftop. I walked onto the set where one of my last-minute makeup artists was putting the finishing touches on one of my last-minute models.
“Sewing kit!” I yelled to Lilly. “Lilly?” I turned to see her flirting with one of the male models. “Lilly!” I yelled to her. She ran over, rummaging through a bag that seemed heavier than she was. I quickly stitched a rip in my model’s costume, and we spent a total of thirty-three minutes at the 1970s shoot. I texted our driver, and we were off to the next stop, catching our breath in the car. Lilly studied the mini-bar, picking up a little bottle of scotch.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Oh c’mon. You’re no fun,” she pouted.
“Lilly, we’re working, not playing,” I reprimanded.
Lilly rolled her eyes. “I know. I was only joking.”
We pulled up to our destination, a reinvented Union Station in a warehouse: Chicago in the 1950s. I was excited to see how this one had turned out because the 50s was my favorite era. I was blown away by the incredible set the designers had created. The models looked great, hanging out of the fake train. One of the designers started yelling at a model, warning her not to pull on the props. Turns out that model was Ivy. She was in the train with Ella, and they were both clearly having a blast. They looked fantastic, too. The makeup artist had transformed them into 50s starlets.
Suddenly there was Oliver, walking toward me with his easy stride.
“Olly!” Ordinarily I would be running up to him, giving him a hug. But for some reason, at that moment, I held back. “Are you shooting all this?” I asked.
“Yup, I guess so,” he said humbly. “This is my favorite set by far.”
“Mine too.”
“The models look great,” he said. “Well, your roommates, anyway.”
I glanced over at the models. I tested my feelings as my eyes found Charlie. He was acting pretty chummy with Alessandra, his date from the gala. She was dressed in a vintage skirt and blazer, with a beige leather briefcase and a hat she kept waving from the window of the train. She looked phenomenal with deep red lipstick in contrast with her pale skin. Charlie looked thinner than usual and—could it be there were bags under his eyes?
I took a deep breath and walked over. “Everything going okay here?”
Ivy and Ella waved and laughed; Charlie slid his arm around Alessandra’s tiny waist.
“All is well. Thanks, Bobbie,” Alessandra said sweetly. “That’s a great coat, BTW.”
“Thanks. I got it from a real 50s pinup girl.” I winked at Ivy and Ella.
“Really? How cool.”
“So, roomies—thank you so much for doing this!”
“You owe us,” Ivy said. “I’ll take my payment in a bottle of champagne. Make it two!” I walked closer to the girls, almost wishing I could join them.
“I’ve never been around so many gorgeous guys,” Ella whispered. “Am I sweating?”
“No, you look great. You both do!” I said.
“I always look great,” Ivy said a little louder. “This guy knows what I’m talking about.” The male model just looked at her, then cracked a smile.
“She may have had few drinks before we came here. Even Ivy gets nervous,” Ella said under her breath.
“Okay, well just keep an eye on her,” I said to Ella. But from the looks of it, people were finding Ivy rather entertaining. I just prayed Ivy wouldn’t drink too much and embarrass herself and me.
I found Lilly at a large table piled with low-calorie snacks and bottled water. Watching her gobble at least one of everything on the table, I was tempted to pour the bottle of water on her head. “On to the next shoot!” I yelled, grabbing her hand. I waved goodbye to everyone on the set, trying to avoid looking at Charlie.
“Hey, Bobbie. Wait up!” I turned around to see Oliver running towards me.
“Do you want me to develop these photos in the dark room, back at the agency?” he asked. “Or should I use my own studio?”
“It’s up to you,” I said. “But you might as well use the agency’s equipment. . .”
“I’m busy all day tomorrow, but I was thinking after work tomorrow night.”
“Sure. Whatever works for you.”
&nbs
p; “Great,” Oliver smiled. “I’ll call you.”
“Okay!” I grabbed Lilly’s arm as we ran toward the car. My heart was pounding, and it wasn’t just from the exertion.
“You were super awkward just then,” Lilly said, looking at me laughing.
“What? No, I wasn’t,” I said defensively.
“Oh yes, you were,” she snorted.
“Listen, you do not talk to your boss like that. Do you understand?” I said, shutting her up. “You need to remember you’re an intern, and—” But my authoritative tone fell apart, and I started laughing. I just felt so happy all of a sudden.
“Meow!” she said.
“Get in the car,” I commanded, pushing her in by her head.
The next stop was the old Chicago Fire Station where the set was reenacting the great Chicago fire. The minute we got to the set, one of the assistants ran up to inform me that one of my models had food poisoning.
“Is it serious? Where is she?” I asked. “You guys are an hour behind schedule.”
“She’s in the bathroom,” the assistant told me with worried eyes. Probably scared he’d be fired.
“Lilly,” I yelled, “Alka-Seltzer and Pepto Bismol!” I ran to the bathroom, shoved medication down the model’s throat, and made her drink ginger ale. I called in hair and makeup to fix her in the bathroom and had a photographer take a few photos, because she did look rather chic, curled around the vintage toilet.
“Nice work,” I encouraged her. “You’re a true artist.”
“Mmm...hmm,” the model nodded miserably. The poor, frail girl stood up and dragged herself back to the set. I overheard her telling one of the other models she was thrilled she’d puked up everything she’d eaten the past few days.
I stood back and watched the photo shoot, trying to catch my breath.
“A little tough on model-girl, weren’t you?” A voice with a thick accent spoke from behind me.
“Excuse me?” I turned.
He was dressed far too casually for the high-end style of the shoot, in khaki pants, a white button-down shirt that hung loosely on his rock solid body, and shoes that looked like they could’ve been made out of hemp. His hair was long, down to his shoulders, and golden from lots of exposure to the sun. He looked me in the eye. “The girl’s puking her cookies, and you send her back into the fire rather than home with a cup of soup?”
“Just trying to do my job,” I said. Who was this guy?
“Nah, I can respect it. Just a little tough,” he added with a laugh, crossing his arms, watching the photo shoot. “I’m Zander,” he said.
“Bobbie,” I offered my hand.
He accepted it, but said, “You Americans, so formal with your handshake. And isn’t Bobbie a boy’s name?”
“Bobby with a ‘y’ is a boy’s name. I’m Bobbie with an ‘i-e.’”
“Okay, then, American Bobbie with an ‘i-e,’” he laughed.
“Don’t you have nicknames where you come from? My name is actually Roberta. So, what’s your role here?”
“I’m the set designer, graphic designer—well, designer in general, I guess. Fordham paid me a boatload of money to come do this, so I thought, why not? Never been to Chicago before, but I gotta say it’s really not my cup of tea. Like, where’s the sun? You’ve got great eyes.”
I blushed. “As a Chi-town girl, I apologize for my city. The weather has been absolutely lousy.”
“Apology accepted. So, what’s there to do in this town, anyway? Like, nightlife?” He brushed back his hair. “Like I said, I’m not from around these parts, as if you couldn’t tell.” He grinned at me. I was finding his accent more and more attractive.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“New Zealand. Ever been?”
I shook my head no.
“Ah, it’s a great place, beautiful scenery, nice people, great beaches. You have to visit sometime,” he smiled.
“I’d like that. And as far as nightlife here in Chicago, there’s an after-party tonight at Fordham following the runway show. . .”
“You gonna be there?”
“I am.”
“Great. So I’ll see you there?” he looked at me for confirmation.
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“Great. It was great meeting you hazel-eyed American Bobbie with an i-e. I’ll see you when the sun’s down.” He motioned towards the set.
“Go do your job,” I smiled.
“All right then,” he said and went back to work. Lilly came up behind me, draping her arm around my shoulder.
“Who was that hot guy with the accent?” she asked, bumping her hip against mine.
“Zander, the designer, from New Zealand,” I said.
“Well? Did you get that hottie’s number or what?” she asked, with a mouthful of something.
“What are you eating? You’re always eating!”
“Free miniature muffins. Hey, the models aren’t eating them. I might as well. Want one?” She lifted her hand, holding out three more muffins.
“No, thank you. Where do all those calories go? I thought you told me you didn’t use food as anesthesia, Lilly. And here you are scarfing everything in sight, when you’re not trying to break into the mini bar in the car—”
“Yeah, but that’s like, for fun.”
“But this is work,” I said. “I know, I know. Work can be fun, though, you know... I do want to thank you for your help today, Lilly,” I said. “You do at least keep things entertaining.”
“Aww. . . is ice cold Bobbie Bertucci warming up to Lilly?” she said in a baby voice.
“Why are you talking in third person?” I asked impatiently. “Come on. We still have a lot of work to do.”
She snorted. “Yeah, you’re all right too,” she said, and popped another muffin in her mouth.
Everywhere I turned the night of the after-party, I saw someone I knew. Everyone from work was there, including Lilly, all my local models, those who had been able to fly in, and those I’d recruited. Ivy and Ella strutted into the after-party in the highest heels they owned. Ivy told anyone who would listen that she was now a Fordham model. Charlie was there—but not with Alessandra. Oliver came with his cousin Lottie, who had cleaned up pretty well and seemed to be behaving herself. My boss Wolfe was there, of course, and when I saw him approaching me, I thought he might be coming over to compliment me on a job well-done. We had pulled off the event in fine style, despite the crisis. I knew it was largely due to my resourcefulness and energy in filling the gaps with so many of my colleagues and friends who had generously stepped up to help us out. But I was dreaming if I thought Wolfe had any sense of gratitude or the ability to express such a thing as appreciation. He merely informed me that he needed the red lace dress back.
“Make sure it’s hanging on the rack in the studio by 8 a.m.,” he said. “Cleaned and pressed.”
He turned away without another word. I just glared after him, stunned. The fact that he didn’t complain was compliment enough for me. I couldn’t expect any more than that. I knew better, but couldn’t help but feel underappreciated.
“Hey, roomie,” Ella said. She appeared at my side. “You look. . .”
“Are you okay?” Ivy popped up between us. “Who is that man you look like you want to throw your drink on?”
“That’s my soon-to-be-ex-boss.”
“Oh, wow—really? Wait...ex-boss?”
“Really. Girls, I want you to be the first to know. I am officially giving my notice. I am going to apply for law school.”
“Did I just hear you say law school?” Oliver poked his head between Ivy and Ella.
“Yep,” I said. “It’s official. I’m gonna d
o it.”
“Well, Jesus. It’s about time,” he said.
“Yay!” Ivy held her glass high. “To Bobbie Bertucci, attorney at law!”
“Yeah, to keep you out of jail, Ivy,” I said. “But shh, I don’t want my boss to hear. Not yet. I have to get my ducks in a row before I can quit.”
Wolfe hadn’t heard Ivy’s toast, but Charlie did. He actually squeezed his way into our little group. Before I realized what was happening, he had snaked his arm around me, saying, “Oh God, you’re not rehashing that old law school fantasy again, are you, Bertucci?” He chuckled. “Really, I would think you’d be embarrassed to say these things out loud. You know it’s a lot of work and actual reading, honey. Law school is like, you know, school.”
“I know school and working hard aren’t concepts you get, Charlie,” I said, staring him dead in the eye. That silenced him, as he slinked away.
“Wow,” Ella said. “What a charmer! Lucky you got out when you did. He obviously can’t be happy for other people.”
“I wouldn’t expect him to be,” I said. “He once told me I’d never be able to pass the LSAT, let alone the bar.”
Ivy wrinkled her nose. “The what?”
“Bobbie,” Ella said, “I think you’ll make a great lawyer. You have a knack for getting the truth out of people.”
I had expected Oliver would chime in with what he usually said whenever I broached the subject of law school: “But of course. It’s totally your calling, Bobbie.It’s the perfect career for you—getting paid to argue!” But he didn’t say it this time—because he had already wandered off. When I finally spotted him through the crowd, he was dancing with one of the models from the agency, a model who’d been hitting on him for months now.
Zander showed up, still underdressed, but he was so good-looking he had no problem pulling it off. He asked me to dance, and we had a great time, dancing, laughing and drinking together. He was a great hit with Ivy and Ella. I really wanted to feel a spark of connection to him.
I was hoping Oliver might ask me to dance, too, but he had vanished. I didn’t see him the rest of night. I didn’t know how I felt about his leaving so abruptly. I brushed it off, but knew on some level it annoyed me. But I was over letting boys determine how my night went. The cards were in my hands now. My roommates were having the time of their lives, so I decided to join them. If I had learned one thing, it was that your girl friends were the people you could count on time and again. They were the other pieces of my puzzle holding me together. I was thankful for that. We stayed out to till the sun came up having a night we’d never forget.