Fashion Faux Paw (3 page)

Kitty glanced at the industry professionals walking around the pen, stopping at the water cooler, grazing the snack table, and interacting with the dogs. Sizing up the bodies covered in tattoos, alienlike hairdos, and strange clothing combinations, she said, “This business is crazy. You’ll meet folks from every walk of life here, all hoping for their big break. Each day is different, and I love it that way.”

She lowered her chin, and Ellie moved closer. “But not everyone in the industry is pleasant. There’s backbiting and smack talk, plus a lot of design theft.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Believe me, I know that firsthand.”

Before Ellie could comment, a dark-haired woman appeared before them. Dressed in red spandex pants, a red tunic, and red strappy heels, she parted the crowd with her presence, seemingly not worried that she was late to the festivities. After stowing a huge bag under the table, she set her mini Schnauzer in the pen with the models’ dogs.

She glared at Kitty. “This is the place where the dogs are being kept for the Nola contest, correct?”

Kitty brushed away her tears and sat straighter in her chair. “Hello, Lilah. How are you doing?”

The woman held her hand out to Ellie, acting as if Kitty hadn’t spoken. “I’m Lilah Perry, one of the four designers. You must be Ellie, the dog sitter.”

“She’s the dog professional, Lilah,” Kitty answered, her voice tight with displeasure. “And one look at the little guys in the pen should tell you where you are.”

“Oh, hello, Kitty,” Lilah said, as if seeing the girl for the first time. “What are you doing here?”

Kitty’s pink-tinted lips thinned. “I guess you haven’t heard. NMD and the CFDA hired me to assist for this gig.”

“Well, how lucky for you to have a bigwig brother working at NMD these days.” Lilah almost sneered. “I’m starving,” she announced, her tone demanding. “Is there anything decent to eat around here?”

Lilah’s voice was so loud just about everyone within shouting distance turned to stare. Couldn’t the woman see the table filled with food?

Standing, Kitty picked up an energy bar. “There’s plenty of fruit, and I hear these are good, with lots of flavors to choose from. They even have—”

“Aah! Are you trying to kill me?” Lilah’s voice rose to shrill. “There are peanuts in that bar.”

Kitty’s face flushed red. “Sorry, sorry. I forgot about your allergy. Let me read the list of ingredients. There’s got to be one here that doesn’t contain peanuts.”

Ellie continued to watch the show. The rude designer was as thin as a supermodel and quite beautiful, but she didn’t look healthy. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and her wrinkled forehead added years to her face.

The crowd murmured as Lilah kept muttering. “She knows about my food problems . . . clear the night of . . . could kill me . . . Thank God I have my pen.”

“That dame needs a conk on the head,”
Rudy stated, watching Lilah retrieve her bag from under the table and begin to dig.

When she finished complaining, she ignored a flustered Kitty, who was still reading ingredients from the different bars, and flounced to Ellie’s side. Narrowing her hazel eyes, she inspected Rudy from head to tail. “I thought all the dogs in this contest were purebreds. This one certainly isn’t.”

The second Ellie heard the comment she wrapped her fingers around her yorkiepoo’s muzzle. “This is Rudy. He’s a pound puppy of the best kind, and he’s all mine.”

Kitty stopped reading the energy bars and glanced at Ellie. “You’ll have to forgive Lilah. Besides her peanut allergy, she has another severe affliction. It’s called overinflated ego.”

Several of the people standing nearby laughed. As if making a point, the designer put her hands on her nonexistent hips and nodded toward her mini Schnauzer. “My baby’s competed in conformation shows, so I know something about the canine world. I was assured I’d be fitting a purebred dog.”

“Just because a dog isn’t a purebred doesn’t mean they’re bad, or untrainable, or unlovable,” Kitty interjected.

Lilah’s kohl-lined eyes narrowed. “Poor you, still feeling sorry for yourself because you didn’t get one of the design spots.” She focused on Ellie, who felt as if she was sitting center court at the US Open. “Have you seen Cassandra or Yasmine? They’re my models, and I wanted to take a good look at them before their fitting.”

“Uh, no,” Ellie said. “But maybe I could—” She stifled a grin as a Bradley Cooper look-alike dressed in a black tank top and well-fitting black jeans strolled to her side.

“Hello,” he said, sizing her up from head to toe. “I’m Marcus David. One of the designers.” He shook Ellie’s hand with a strong grip that matched his generous biceps. “I heard I was getting a new plus-sized model. Is that you?”

Plus-sized model?
Ellie didn’t know whether to be ticked off or pleased. To this group, plus-sized was a term for anyone who wore a size twelve or larger, but asking if she was a model . . . ? “Um, nope. I’m in charge of the dogs.”

He gave her another once-over. “Too bad. Not about the dog thing, but about the modeling. Your hair is fabulous, and so are your eyes. I could do a lot with you, if you wanted to change professions.”

“Marcus, really,” Lilah began. “She’s not exactly model material. Her shoulders are too broad, and her ass, well—”

“Well, nothing,” Marcus said, huffing out a breath. “I could do great things with that—”

“Maybe you should stick to designing for chubby women, since they do run in your family.” She folded her arms and shifted her gaze to Ellie. “This one reminds me of—”

“Excuse me, but I’m standing right here,” Ellie said. She nodded toward two women who had just entered the scene, one carrying a French bulldog, and the other who was dogless. “And I believe these are your models.”

Hours later, Ellie’s head was spinning. She’d spent the afternoon meeting several more people, all involved with the contest in some way, and heard everything that had led to the competition a dozen times over. The way she understood it, not only had the designers and models been handpicked, but the makeup artists and hairstylists were at the top of their field, too.

The amount of hours the designers had dedicated to this endeavor was mind-boggling. Four designers had been assigned two models each, one who met the fashion industry’s strict standards, the other a female of “normal” size, who represented the woman of today. The designer would outfit the two models in identical designs of day wear and evening wear, and finally, a third outfit for both the models and their dogs.

That meant three original designs for two women, and two canine outfits as well. It was, she decided as she watched the models being fitted into the first outfit, a huge task. In between observing the preparations, she’d taken the dogs out twice, made sure they had water and treats, and comforted them when they complained about being cooped up in the pen.

For some reason, the snappish Lilah Perry had added her mini Schnauzer, Klingon, to the group, automatically assuming Ellie would care for him with the other purebreds. Besides Cheech, there was a second Chihuahua, two Yorkies, two French bulldogs, another mini Schnauzer.

To make matters more complicated, a model named Cassandra had forgotten her dog, which made no sense to Ellie, but the missing animal wasn’t her problem. Unfortunately, the no-show had caused a heated flare-up between Lilah and her model, which made things uncomfortable whenever they were around.

Even though all the dogs weren’t able to communicate with her in the psychic manner she could employ with dogs she knew well, they seemed easy to work with and didn’t have the diva complex from which several of their owners suffered. Lilah Perry’s dog in particular had a very sweet disposition compared to that of his bossy mistress.

Jeffery King had also dropped by every so often to make sure things were on track, and Morgan Prince, the other half of Nola Morgan Design, had come to inspect the premises several more times.

On each visit, Jeffery had taken his sister aside for a private conversation. Ellie hadn’t been able to hear what they said, but their body language and facial expressions told her it had something to do with Lilah’s brash treatment of Kitty.

Right now, several of the models and designers were going through their gift bags, comparing items and guessing their retail worth. Besides the goodies, NMD was using the contest to launch a new perfume line with a product called Forever. The perfume was said to equal the best in the industry, but the unique way it was dispensed was its selling point.

Small pads held waxy strips the size of an address label. All the wearers of the perfume had to do was peel off the strip and place it on any pulse point or warm spot on their body. The strip would dissolve into the wearer’s skin while the scent stayed with them for hours.

Lilah picked up her basket and plopped down next to Ellie, as if they were close friends. Then she reached into her gift bag and pulled out her perfume pad. “Mmm. Mine is supposed to represent summer, so it smells like lavender and verbena. Who knew I was a freak for lavender?” Lilah asked as she stuck a waxy strip between her breasts. “Isn’t this great? I can smell it already. And look how easy they’ll be to carry.” She dropped the pad back into her swag bag and tucked it under the table. “I love it. Don’t you?”

Ellie dug through her basket, moving past a Bottega Veneta handbag, until she found her scent pad. Hers was decorated in a delicate green with gold leaf and labeled Spring. After giving the pad a quick sniff, she did the same as Lilah—peeled off a strip and tucked it in her bra. Moments later, a soft but refreshing aroma that did indeed remind her of a cool spring rain wafted to her nose.

When someone called out “five minutes,” the mob of models and designers scattered, racing to the area behind the runway to get a final review before stepping onto the catwalk. Seconds later, the show’s prominent emcee, Kurt Jager, announced the details of the NMD contest and its first design showing: day wear.

Ellie and Rudy tiptoed to the back of the crowd, hoping to sneak a peak at the runway. Music floated from the loudspeakers as the first contestant, Marcus David, began the day wear competition. She wasn’t sure she liked the black slacks with their wide cuffed legs and tight waist, but she did approve of the top his models wore, which consisted of a short, fitted red jacket over what looked to be a plain white blouse. But after Patti and Claire Smith did the usual walk to a goodly round of applause, they removed the jackets at the end of the runway and showed the pin-tuck detailing on the front and back that made the blouse interesting and unique.

Designer number two was Anton Rouch, a guy with a dark look in his eyes and a face devoid of expression. She’d only met him once, when he asked her which of the dogs belonged to his models, Lawan and Kate. He made no comment when he was introduced to a white Chihuahua and a Yorkie, so Ellie figured he wasn’t dog friendly.

The applause continued as the models strutted their stuff. Kurt Jager made appropriate commentary, even throwing in a few jokes during the walks. Designer number three, Fiona Ray, was introduced. Her models, Dominique and Crystal, both owned French bulldogs. The color scheme of Fiona’s day wear, consisting of oranges and yellows, was too bright for Ellie’s taste, but the audience seemed to love the pencil-slim, knee-length skirt and wide-shouldered jacket.

Last to show was Lilah Perry. Her models, Cassandra McQuagge and Yasmine, appeared professional, though the day wear Lilah had created was, in Ellie’s mind, far from appealing. The skirt, made of black leather or something like it, showed more thigh than any professional would want to wear, and the jacket looked tight and uncomfortable. When each model slipped off her jacket, the fitted black tee had no special detailing, which only helped to make the suit a bore.

The applause continued as all eight models reappeared and took another strut down the runway and back, lining up along the rear curtain. Then the four designers, the real stars of the event, strode front and center. But when the applause ended abruptly on a sudden gasp, Ellie shifted from behind the curtain to see what had happened.

“I can’t see. What’s goin’ on?”
asked Rudy, trying to climb up her leg.

Gazing at the audience, she realized that everyone’s eyes were focused on the designers. “I’m not sure,” she answered, rising on tiptoe and peering between the heads of the backstage crowd. Then she spotted Lilah Perry, her hands clasping her throat as if she were fighting to draw air into her lungs.

Ellie shoved through the statuelike mob without thinking. The models and designers moved back when the emcee rushed over to lend a hand, and Ellie joined him. Lilah had dropped to the floor, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, her face swelling so quickly one could actually see the changes as they morphed her features into a puffy mass.

“She’s in anaphylactic shock,” someone screamed. “Where’s her bag? She carries an EpiPen.”

The emcee rose from his knees. “We need an EpiPen! Does anyone in the audience have an EpiPen!”

Ellie took off running, relieved to find the crowd parting, and raced to the food table. There, she dragged Lilah’s bag out from under it, dug inside, and found what she thought was an EpiPen. After pulling it out, she hiked the bag over her shoulder and shot back to the stage.

Chapter 2