Catwalk Read online

  The truth is I think it all sounds rather exhausting. I can’t even wrap my mind around it. But Paige seems to take this, like the rest of this business, in stride, and I guess if she can keep up, I can too. After all, she’s the one with the most pressure to perform.

  “And I think we can milk two or more episodes out of Fashion Week alone,” Fran is telling Helen now. “The first show will focus on the designers in their studios, the models as they prepare and all that. It will be a great buildup for the next show—the actual Fashion Week show.”

  “Great!” Helen claps her hands. “We’ll get at least three shows out of New York then. Brilliant.”

  Paige and I are kept über-busy during the following week, literally running all over town to attend the local fashion shows. But the payoff is that these events are actually a lot easier than the previous week when we were interviewing designers. Mostly our crew just films snippets of the shows. (We’re not allowed to film too much since it seems most designers suffer from a serious paranoia that someone is going to steal their designs.) Then Paige does some quick interviews behind the scenes. Meanwhile, I mostly hang out with my camera, try to look necessary, and practice filming.

  But on Saturday morning, we have to make an appearance at Granada’s studio for our fitting session. This is to be followed by a dress rehearsal for the show, which is scheduled for Sunday afternoon—just one part of LA’s pre-Fashion-Week warm-up. As I park my Jeep with Paige fidgeting next to me, I realize the pressure is on. And everything could easily go wrong.

  “I am not looking forward to this,” Paige warns me as we stand outside the studio, waiting for Lucinda to come and unlock the door so we can go inside.

  “Just be a good sport,” I say.

  “The hardest part is that I really don’t want to offend her.”

  “Seriously?” I have to laugh at the ludicrousness of this. “Since when has that stopped you before?”

  “Well, I like her. And I like the things she stands for too.”

  Go figure. But it does give me hope. For Paige, that is. I’m not so sure about this fashion show. Soon we are inside where a number of the other models are trying on clothes, not including Sunera, who isn’t due to arrive until this evening.

  “What? No cameras today?” Lucinda smiles as she hands me several hangers’ worth of clothing, wrapped in what I’m guessing is a recycled sheet.

  “We’ll save that for tomorrow,” Paige tells her.

  “Granada wants you to meet her in back,” Lucinda says to Paige.

  The room is buzzing with girls trying on outfits and cooperating with seamstresses and stylists. I learn that I’m only expected to model one ensemble, a huge relief because I doubt that I’d be coordinated enough to perform the quick changes I’ve seen models make during a fast-paced show. I’m sure Lucinda realizes that I’m slightly fashion-challenged, so she sticks around to help me and make sure I get the pieces on right.

  “I love it,” I tell Lucinda when I emerge from the dressing room for my final inspection. The A-line skirt is made from recycled men’s ties that look like they’re from the fifties. It has an asymmetrical hemline that actually seems to make me look taller. And this is topped with a white blouse created with pieces of patchwork lace, again recycled fabric, with a pure organic cotton camisole underneath and a fitted black wool vest on top.

  “That vest is made from a recycled sweater that was boiled to shrink the knit tightly like that,” Lucinda informs me. “And the buttons are from the forties.”

  “I really love it,” I tell her as I look in the mirror. “I might have to buy the whole thing.”

  She grins. “I’m sure that can be arranged.” Then she helps me with a red belt, which is made from a recycled seatbelt and old rodeo buckle. And my shoes are a pair of red Mary-Jane clogs made from hemp and vegetable dyed. I know Paige wouldn’t be caught dead in these shoes, but I think they’re fantastic. Not to mention comfortable.

  “Well, I’m a happy camper,” I assure Lucinda. “If it’s okay, I’ll look around to see how the other models are doing.”

  “And I’ll check on your sister.” Lucinda’s anxious expression is probably reflective of mine. “Hopefully it’s not going too badly.”

  I walk around the room and am surprised to see that there’s really quite a variety of styles going on. Something for everyone. I even ask the models about how they like the garments and wish I had my camera as I hear, again and again, how comfortable, how breathable, how soft the materials are.

  “I’m so used to suffering when I model,” a pale redhead tells me. “I just expect to be tortured during the fitting right up until the runway. But Granada’s clothes are delightful. I already have a few pieces in my closet and by tomorrow, I expect to have a few more.”

  And so it goes. I decide that even if Paige hates her outfit, at least she can get some good quotes from the other models tomorrow. Then I hear Granada calling my name, and the next thing I know I’m ushered into the back room where Paige is wearing white linen pants—that fit perfectly—topped with a recycled lace blouse similar to mine, only longer and worn as a jacket, with a pale blue camisole underneath. Her sandals and low-slung belt are both made of natural hemp. I think she looks great.

  “I love that outfit,” I tell her.

  She nods at Granada. “I have to admit it’s really comfortable.”

  “Something you could wear on an island vacation or just out to lunch with the girls,” Granada suggests.

  “Or on the runway tomorrow.” Paige grins.

  Granada’s brows lift. “So I’ve managed to convince you then?”

  Paige fingers the lace on her blouse. “I won’t say I’m a total convert, but I guess green doesn’t have to be frumpy.”

  “And you’ll do my show?” Granada looks hopeful.

  “For sure.” Paige nods.

  “And we’re pretty sure your fashion show will be on Runway next week,” I tell her.

  “But we can’t make promises,” Paige reminds me. “That’s up to the editors.”

  “But I pleaded your case,” I say.

  Granada doesn’t seem concerned. “C’est la vie.”

  I let out a sigh as Granada goes to check on something with one of the models. Catastrophe averted. Paige may never laud Granada Greenwear as haute couture, but at least she’s giving the line a fair shake.

  We go through the paces of walking on the catwalk, and although Paige takes to it like a fish to water, it’s harder than I expected. Finally Granada tells me to simply be myself. “Just relax, Erin,” she urges me. “We’ll let the audience know that you’re not a pro.”

  “Maybe she should carry her camera,” Paige teases. “That always puts her at ease.”

  Granada nods. “Great idea. Erin, you will carry your video camera. And I’ll comment on that and how that’s part of your persona for your show. It’ll work just fine.”

  “And Erin could even pretend to be shooting footage of the audience,” Paige suggests.

  “Perfect.” Granada grins at Paige. “Very fun.”

  “Only I won’t be pretending,” I tell them. “I’ll really be filming and maybe it’ll end up on next week’s show.” At least that’s how I hope it will go. I suppose there’s always the possibility I could fall flat on my face. But at least we’re not wearing stilettos.

  By the time Paige and I head home later in the day, we’re both feeling fairly positive about tomorrow’s fashion event. “It might even be fun,” I admit. “I really like the camera idea. Thanks for suggesting it.”

  “So what are you doing tonight?” Paige asks as I pull into the condo parking lot and snag a space.

  “Fellowship group,” I tell her as I turn off the engine. “Want to come?”

  “Not this time.”

  “But you keep telling me that you’re going to come sometime,” I remind her. “Why not tonight?”

  “Because I have a date tonight.”

  “A date? With who?”

&nb
sp; “Benjamin.”

  “Really?” For some reason—I honestly don’t know why, because I shouldn’t be surprised—this floors me. Benjamin Kross might be the hottest thing on reality TV and the star of Malibu Beach, but I thought Paige had been hurt enough by him. And I had hoped that since he’d kind of faded into the woodwork lately, Paige had told him to take a hike.

  “Yes. And don’t get all grumpy about it.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I promised him the night of the Golden Globes that if he left me alone for two weeks, I’d consider going out with him.”

  “Even after what he did to you?” I still try to block out that horrible day when Benjamin Kross and Mia Renwick pulled their little stunt on Malibu Beach, acting like Paige had lied and cheated and attempted to break apart the “happy couple,” when in reality Paige had turned out to be their publicity victim.

  “I thought Christians were supposed to forgive people.” She eyes me curiously as we walk up the stairs to our condo unit. “Are you ever going to forgive Benjamin?”

  I shrug. I hate to admit that she’s right. “I guess I have to…if you do.”

  “Well, I have forgiven him. And, if it makes you feel any better, he’s apologized so many times that I actually begged him to quit.”

  “So do you think he really learned his lesson?” I ask as we go inside.

  “I seriously doubt that he’ll ever do something like that again.”

  “Something like what?” Mom asks from the kitchen. “Who are we talking about?”

  Paige fills her in on Benjamin and her two-week promise. “So tonight is the big night.”

  “I thought he was getting together with that dark-haired girl, the one on the show. Natalie or—”

  “Natasha,” Paige offers. “No, Mom, he said that was just Natasha chasing after him and the editors playing it up so that they could use some jealous shots of Mia. You know how it goes.”

  I study my mom. “You actually watched Malibu Beach?”

  Mom chuckles. “Someone at work had recorded it and it was playing in the break room. I couldn’t help myself.”

  “I recorded it here,” Paige says with a smile. “I watched it too…the next day.”

  I laugh and roll my eyes. “So I’m the only one in the family who didn’t?”

  “It’s probably still in the TiVo,” Paige tells me, “if you want to see it.”

  “No thanks.” I wave my hand and head for my room.

  “But you will forgive him?” Paige calls after me.

  “Yes,” I call back. But I’m thinking it will take more than two weeks before I forget what Benjamin did to my sister. And I’ll probably be paying close attention to make sure he doesn’t do it again. In fact, I might even start watching Malibu Beach. Or not.

  Chapter 4

  As I drive myself to fellowship group, I’m surprised at how much I miss Blake and I selfishly wish he hadn’t gone out of town for a family wedding. When I arrive, after fielding more curious questions from “fans”—which I admit is still really awkward for me—I also find myself missing Mollie and wondering why she and Tony aren’t here tonight.

  Then, as I listen to the sermon (although Kris, the pastor, calls it a “talk”) I realize that his words really hit home. Forgiving others is like eating or sleeping; you have to do it on a regular, daily basis or risk getting sick. It’s not the first time Kris has talked about forgiving others, and it’s not the first time I’ve had to admit there’s someone in my life I need to forgive. Possibly more than one someone. The first who comes to mind is Benjamin. Although I told Paige I’d forgive him, I realize I need to do this not just with words, but inside as well. Also, I need to forgive Mollie. But maybe even more importantly, I need to ask her to forgive me. And not via email either.

  “I forgot to give you this ticket,” Paige tells me as I’m getting ready for bed.

  “What ticket?”

  “Granada gave us each an extra ticket for the show tomorrow. You can invite a guest.”

  “Oh.” I nod. “You think Mom wants to come?”

  “I already asked her and she definitely would, except that she’s going out with Jon.”

  “Maybe they both could come.”

  Paige nods. “Yeah, I suggested that too. But then she told me he somehow snagged a pair of tickets to Mamma Mia and I told her to forget it. I’d skip the fashion show myself just to see that show.”

  “You would not.”

  Paige chuckles. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Anyway, here’s your ticket. I invited Benjamin to come and, if you don’t mind, he’ll give me a ride home afterward. Okay?”

  I should have seen that coming. “Sure. Whatever.”

  After Paige leaves, I decide to invite Mollie. I know it’s late, but I also know she answers her cell phone later than this. But after a couple of rings, I am sent to voicemail.

  “Hey, Mollie. I missed you at fellowship tonight. And I really wanted to tell you I’m sorry if that crazy email I sent last week offended you. I mostly just wanted to talk to you and to make sure we’re still friends. We are, aren’t we? Anyway, I have a spare ticket to the Granada Greenwear fashion show tomorrow. Remember I told you about it? So call me if you want to come. I can leave it at the front door for you. Okay…bye.” Then I hang up and wonder if she’ll even bother to call back. So far she hasn’t been too good at that; but then, neither have I. So I call back and leave a second message, saying that if I don’t hear from her by tomorrow morning, I might just see if Blake wants to come.

  My phone rings the next morning, but instead of Mollie, it’s Blake. “Want a ride to church?” he asks pleasantly.

  “If I was going, I would. But I have to be at the Granada event by noon and I think church would be cutting it too close.”

  “So you’re still doing it then? Paige didn’t pull the plug?”

  I fill him in on the details and when he says he’d like to come, I tell him I just happen to have a spare ticket. “I left a message for Mollie,” I say, “but I told her if she didn’t claim it this morning, it would go to someone else.” I don’t admit that he was the one I’d been thinking of.

  “All right. When does her offer officially expire?”

  I consider this. “Well, maybe I should give her until ten since that’s when church begins. Seems fair to think she’d have called me by then.”

  “Sounds fair to me.”

  “If I don’t hear from her, I’ll call and leave you a message with directions. The show doesn’t start until two.”

  “And if I see Mollie at church, I won’t remind her to call you.” He chuckles. “That’s kind of selfish though—especially in church.”

  “If Mollie wants to come, she’ll call me.”

  Apparently Mollie does not want to come. Because at eleven, when Paige and I are getting ready to leave, I call Blake and tell him where the show is being held and that his ticket will be at the door.

  “Hey, maybe Ben and Blake will want to hang together,” Paige suggests as we’re going down the stairs. The next thing I know she’s on the phone and telling Benjamin to call Blake, and getting the number from me, and even making plans for the four of us to get something to eat afterward. “I know I’ll be starved by then.” She hangs up and smiles. “It’s all settled.”

  But just before noon, just as I’m parking at the hotel where the show’s being held, Mollie calls. “I got your message,” she tells me with a sleepy voice.

  “You’re at home?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I slept in—didn’t make it to church. Tony and I went to a late movie and I didn’t get home until almost one.”

  “Yeah…and since I didn’t hear back from you I sort of, well, I offered the ticket to Blake.”

  “That figures.” Her tone is flat and tinged with anger.

  “He called and he was all excited about it and Paige set it up for him to go with Benjamin and—”

  “Paige is back with Benjamin?”

  “Well, they just bare
ly started—”

  “I just feel so out of it when it comes to you, Erin. It’s like I’m the last one on your list.”

  “You were the first one on my list,” I tell her. “I called you—”

  “Yeah, whatever. I gotta go. Thanks for the invitation anyway.” Then she hangs up on me. Just like that.

  I hold my phone out and shake it. “She is impossible!”

  “Mollie?”

  “Yes. She’s all bent out of shape because—”

  “I know, Erin. I heard the whole thing. Let it go. Mollie’s just being a brat. Don’t let her drag you into it.”

  “Yeah…right.” We’re going inside now and I think that’s easier said than done. She’s already dragged me into it.

  “And don’t forget to turn off your phone during the show.”

  “Okay.” I sigh as I turn my phone off. Paige is right. Mollie is being a brat. And maybe next time I’ll just wait for her to come and apologize to me.

  The fashion show is a great distraction from the Mollie drama. And between getting dressed, shooting some film footage, doing a few quick interviews, and finally trying to “just breathe” as I wait for my turn to literally go on the runway, I manage to put the drama behind me.

  “Now remember,” Paige tells me. “Just be camera girl, getting your shots and having a good time.”

  I nod. The plan is for me to follow Paige, and we’ll share the catwalk briefly as I shoot a bit of her walk and Granada tells the audience about our little sister act on our TV show. Really, it should be fun. Or that’s what I keep telling myself as I try to imagine not falling on my face.

  And, thankfully, it pretty much goes as planned. The audience seems to enjoy our little skit and before I know it, I’m done. And it’s not long before the whole fashion show, which seems to be a hit, is complete. I manage to get some good shots of Sunera and then Paige, and I score an interview with Sunera afterward. All in all, I think it was time well spent, and Fran and the rest of the crew agree. This is a huge relief, especially considering they had to give up part of their Sunday to do it.

  Because we’ve been busy getting shots and interviews, Paige and I haven’t had a chance to change our clothes like the other models. We’re finally just heading back to do this when Granada stops us. “Thanks for everything, girls. You were a wonderful addition to our show.”