Palm Springs Heat (15 page)

Lara must have looked confused,
because Taequanda put an arm around her in sisterly fashion. “I know, it’s like
Alice in Wonderland
around here,” she said. “Nothing is the way you
think it should be, so just chill and take it all in. We’ll run interference
for you.”

Taequanda and Corynne did a
hand-bump and held it, signaling with their eyes for Lara to join them.

“The ‘girlfriends’ got to stick
together,” Taequanda said.

* * *

The three trailed Spike into a room
decorated as a Roman dining hall, with reclining benches surrounding a large
central table piled high with brightly colored fake food.

“The hell is this?” Taequanda said.

“I thought it would be fun to go
with a salacious bacchanal theme,” Spike said. “After all, you are a feast.”

“I feel like chocolate cookie dough
in a tube squeezed into this instrument of torture.” Taequanda tugged on her
dress.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Spike
reached out to touch Taequanda, but she grabbed his wrist and looked at him
with one eyebrow raised before letting go. “As I was saying: We’ll start with
formal shots, then come back here for some fun, then do the swimsuit shots on
the rocks.
Va bene
?”

He did another about-face, put his
hand over his head again, snapped his fingers and forged ahead.

“Aren’t we going to have a session
with Clay?” Lara asked, too late for Spike to hear.

“There will be a session with Clay
when the time comes for a session with Clay,” Sushma said from just behind
Lara.

How does she do that?
Lara
whipped around. “Oh, I didn’t see—”

“Tiffany,” Sushma said. Lara had
almost forgotten about Tiffany. Like everyone else around here, though, the
girl had the ability to materialize out of thin air.

“Yes, Ms. V.”

“I believe I said Miss Dixon was to
wear the Chan Luu.”

“Yes, right. I suggested it, like
you said, but she tried it on and decided the Love Moschino was…”

She mumbled the last words.

“I am sorry?”

“More comfortable?”

“I hope that’s not a problem,” Lara
said.

Sushma eyed her like a displeased
schoolmarm. “As difficult as it is for me to believe that either dress would be
uncomfortable, the point is for you to look good and to appear to be
comfortable. Whether you
are
comfortable is not an issue.”

I see.

“Chartre picked out both dresses,
did he not?”

“Yes.”

“Then both dresses are equally
comfortable.”

Sushma turned to Tiffany. “When I
ask for Chan Luu, I expect to see Chan Luu.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s not her fault—” Lara began,
but Sushma had already turned on her five-inch heels and vanished into the
crowd.

Lara looked at Tiffany. Tiffany
looked at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Lara said. “I’ll tell
her later it wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have been more emphatic
about which dress you were supposed to wear,” Tiffany countered.

“Can you tell the difference
between this dress and the other one?”

“Totally. I mean, this one is a
little longer in through here,” Tiffany ran her hands down her own hips, “and
smoothing along here.” She clenched her own waist.

“So, this
was
the wrong
choice?”

“Oh, no!” Tiffany looked around,
then put her face up to Lara’s ear. “You have a great figure, and this one does
a way more excellent job of showing it off. I mean—OMG, you won’t tell Ms. V
that
?”

“No. Strictly a between-girls
thing.”

“If neither of you tell her, I sure
will.” Taequanda nodded vigorously. “Oh, yeah. That dress is having its lucky
day. It never looked as good as it does right now.”

“Thanks, both of you.”

“Don’t thank us. Thank the
all-knowing Lady who rules from on high—and I do not mean Ms. V. Plus the fact
that you’re obviously well-acquainted with Mr. Arman Curl.” Taequanda pumped
her arms.

Lara smiled.
Looking natural
sure is a lot of work.

* * *

It became even more work when Lara,
Taequanda and Corynne were supposed to pose as patricians lounging around in
stolas as they enjoyed a sumptuous feast of faux food. Lara just couldn’t get
comfortable. The generous folds and pleats of her garment kept getting stuck
underneath her.

Spike sighed conspicuously and let
his camera drop into the hands of a dutiful assistant.

“I’m sorry,” Lara said. “It’s just
that—I don’t know.”

“Oh, my god, girlfriend,” he said,
“this is not rocket science. All you have to do is sit there and look
gorgeous.”

I’m not stupid—I’ve just never
done any modeling.

“Excuse me?” Taequanda had not said
spoken loudly, but the room went dead quiet.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Q.” The
look in Spike’s eyes said he knew he was walking on eggs.

Taequanda looked down and calmly
plucked a loose thread from the neck of her toga. “As you know,” she said, “it
is my policy that when you’re talking to one of us, you’re talking to all
three.”

Then she looked at him. With
eyelids at half-mast.

“Oh, come on,” he said with a
self-conscious giggle. “There’s no reason to get your panties in a bunch.”

The three people standing closest
to him each took a step back.

“My
what
?”

Everyone else in the room took a
step back.

“You’re talking about my what? My
panties? How about let’s have a little conversation about the ones
you’re
wearing?”

 “How about, why don’t we just
proceed?”

“Oh, I do not think so.” Taequanda
stood up on the reclining bench and scowled. “Before we do anything, you need
to give ’em a tug here and there.”

“I beg your par—”

 “You heard me: A tug here and
there. Give your junk a little breathing room.”

“I really don’t understand what—”

“That’s right, you don’t
understand. You know that girl’s never done anything like this before.”

Not wanting to make waves, Lara sat
up and offered, “Thanks, but it’s all right. Really. I just have to get used
to—”

“You ever do any modeling before
today?”

“No.”

“Then it is
not
all right.”

Taequanda glowered at the assembled
multitude. “In fact, it’s all wrong. I have never in my life seen so many
people with their shorts on so tight.” She softened her expression and turned to
Lara. “Seriously, I’ve never seen these people so wound up.” The glower
returned as she turned back to the crowd. “Now, I want everyone—and that would
include you two”—she pointed at two assistants who were still conversing at the
back of the room—“to loosen their shorts.”

Everyone stood still, blinking at
the tall, dark, majestic woman towering over them in glowing white, flowing
robes.

“Do I have to demonstrate for you
people?” She hiked up her stola, whisked her underwear down to her ankles and
kicked them right at Spike.

Lara surveyed the shocked faces.
Thank
god they’re all looking at Taequanda instead of me.
Then she noticed
Corynne looking down and covering her face, trying not to let everyone see how
hard she was laughing.

“Come on! Loose shorts all around!”

Spike sighed as he took Taequanda’s
underwear off his shoulder and nervously flexed the waistband between his index
fingers.

“Tae, dear,” Spike said, “I think
you’ve quite made your point.”

Taequanda’s arms were crossed now.
“You all had better hope so. Because if I don’t start feeling a more relaxed
vibe
tout de suite
, some asses will get kicked.”

After a moment of silence and
trepidation, Spike twirled his arm above his head. “Everyone take two to
chill.”

The buzz returned to the room, but
at a much lower decibel level. Corynne stopped trying to hide her laughter.
Taequanda, though, was all business as she turned to Lara.

“You know it’s
their
job to
make you look comfortable even if you feel like you’ve got lobsters pinching on
your eyelids.”

“It’s just that, every time I tried
to put something up to my mouth, I felt this…thing…tugging me or sliding off my
body.”

“Let me show you a secret.”
Taequanda lifted one side of her toga before sitting on the bench.

“See how it just ends up in the
right place?” The material seemed to cooperate no matter how she moved her head
and shoulders and arms, even when she reclined into the traditional Roman
dining position.

Lara copied Taequanda’s trick and
got the same results.

“How could it be that easy? I feel so
dumb.”

“It’s not you. They just throw you
into these situations and expect you to perform.” She turned toward Spike, who
was talking to an assistant. “Hey! Annie Leibovitz—shake a leg!”

Spike stopped midsentence and
looked at her.

“That’s right. I said you may
continue.”

He snapped his fingers. “People,
her highness, the queen, wishes for us to get on with it.”

The entourage snapped into gear
like a machine.

“Around this place,” Taequanda said
to Lara, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “you are a queen. It’s
their
business to make you look good, not the other way around.”

12

Taequanda’s advice helped ease
things for Lara as the day wore on. Spike took shots of the girls in the
kitchen. Shots of them playing pool. Shots of them goofing off in the backseat
of one of Clay’s massive Pierce-Arrows. A Jacuzzi shot was planned, but when
Lara confided her aversion to hot tubs, Taequanda asked Spike—politely, and
with her underwear in place—to skip it.

The next shot still, however,
required wearing a swimsuit. Trim though she was, Lara found picking a swimsuit
stressful. Tiffany laid out a half-dozen choices, all of them black one-pieces.

“Which do you think?” Lara bit a
thumbnail as Tiffany scrutinized each suit.

“I couldn’t totally say unless I
saw you in each one. But, I don’t see how you could go wrong, since Chartre
picked them out.”

“Chartre picked them out?”

Tiffany nodded.

“Then, which one would Ms. V pick?”

“Definitely not this one.” Tiffany
pointed to an Amalfi bandeau. “This one, for sure.” She held up an Athena
Maldives “fauxkini.” Lara snatched up the Amalfi.

Lara felt fine about going
strapless, but when she saw her Rotation mates on the rocks below the War Room,
she thanked her lucky stars the bandeau covered her hips. Not afraid to reveal
all her assets, Corynne had chosen a tankini with a plunging neckline from Victoria’s
Secret. Taequanda, of course, looked the best of the three in a Monica Wise
suit with side cutouts that Lara would dream of wearing only in a nightmare.

Wranglers kept sunbathing seals at
bay as the trio posed on boulders that were as big as some houses in the
neighborhood where Lara grew up. The sun felt warm, but every now and then a
wave smacked the rocks and launched plumes of chilly spray that made Lara
shiver.
Lucky seals. No one cares if they have enough blubber to keep them
warm.

At the end of the shoot, as the
Rotation mates’ respective assistants appeared with fuzzy pink robes, Spike
stopped in front of Lara and nodded. “I have to admit,” he said, “you
do
know how to wear a swimsuit.”

Lara smiled demurely. “Thank you.”

Tiffany held the gigantic robe up
to allow Lara to peel off the freezing swimsuit. As soon as the spandex hit the
rock, Tiffany wrapped the robe around Lara the way a fight trainer would a boxer.
The terry cloth tickled her skin, and she warmed up immediately.

Clay never showed. But Lara,
feeling the need to play it cool, didn’t ask why. Instead, she dutifully
followed Tiffany to her own space in the ICE House, a suite that overlooked the
ocean from two flights above the deck.

* * *

“Here ya go!” Tiffany said as she
threw open the double doors.

The ante room was bigger than
Lara’s entire apartment at Eleventh and Pearl—and
much nicer. The décor was feminine but not effete, functional but comfortable.
And even with its infinite view of the ocean, it seemed cozy. Lara thought the
radiant hardwood flooring and plush oriental carpet had something to do with
that.

Lara checked out the spacious
bathroom. “No waterfall?”

“I hope that’s not going to be a
problem. The shower is totally boss, though.” Tiffany danced out of view.

Lara followed her through a
dressing room big enough for two people to live in. Chartre’s mountain of
clothes had been neatly hung and obsessively arranged by occasion and color in
a huge walk-in closet. Lara stopped and stared.

All this is mine?

Lara heard the shower go on. Still
staring at the clothes, she headed toward the bathroom but stumbled over
something in the doorway: Tiffany’s boots. Tiffany’s shredded stockings lay on
the tile just inside the bathroom. Lara looked up to see her barefoot assistant
marveling over a glass-encased stall big enough to hold three, or maybe four,
people.

“You can make it do all kinds of
wild things by turning this knob,” Tiffany said gleefully. As she rotated the
control, jets of water shot out of the walls from various angles.

Lara stuck her arm into the stream.
Tiffany turned the knob to make the water pulse. “As good as a waterfall, for
sure,” Tiffany said. She turned off the water and scooped up her boots and
hose.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking
them off,” she said without guilt. “I just love the way the natural stone feels
on bare feet.”

They moved back into the bedroom.
Lara stared at the comically high pile of pillows burying the bed. “Are there
enough pillows?”