Spring Collection (47 page)

“ ‘Night and Day’? What the hell are they playing that old stuff for?” Tinker asked Jordan.

“It’s the mood, lovey,” Jordan said over her shoulder. “You’ll get what they’re doing in a minute, just keep listening.”

“I don’t like it,” Tinker said in a flat voice.

“It’ll grow on you. Give it a chance.”

“I can’t dance to this shit. It’s a fucking foxtrot.”

Jordan turned abruptly. Tinker was standing up, bare breasted, fists clenching and unclenching, a look of violent rage on her face.

“It’s just the party music, Tink, don’t let it bother you.”

“Party music? Is that all this is, a party? God damn it to hell, don’t they realize this is a matter of life and death? How can they subject us to this crap while we’re waiting to go on? Don’t any of you have the slightest sensitivity? It’s a fucking insult! I’m going out to tell those bastards to shut the fuck up.”

“No Tinker, no, I’ll do it. You stay here, you haven’t got any clothes on.
April!
Come over here, talk to Tinker, while I go tell Chicago to stop playing.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it! Come over here. Listen,” Jordan bent forward and whispered in April’s ear, “there’s something wrong. Don’t let her get away from you, for God’s sake. Sit on her if you have to.”

“Right.”

Jordan sped away, threading her way through the crowded beauty salon until she found Lombardi laughing with Claudia and Linda, both of them dressed in their first ball gowns, and, except for shoes, completely ready to go on the runway.

“Marco, there’s a problem with Tinker.”

“Dio
, not again,” he groaned. “What is it this time?”

“I’m not sure but she’s not acting normally. She hates Chicago, it’s freaking her out. You’ve got to talk to her, she won’t pay any attention to me.”

“Do you think I have nothing better to do right now than worry about her taste in music? Is this the time to bother me?”

“Yes, if you want the show to go on.”

“Excuse me, my beauties. I’ll be right back.” Marco followed Jordan leisurely.

“So, Tinker, what’s the problem now?” he asked as he arrived to find her slouched down in her chair, with April rubbing the back of her neck. “More complaints? Even at the last minute?”

“ ‘The problem’?” Tinker echoed. “There’s no problem, who said there was? I’m not going on to the sound of that incredible crap, but that’s not a problem, is it Marco? You’ve got someone else who can wear my clothes, don’t you? Let that short French cunt wear them, because I won’t submit to this foul excuse for music, and there’s no one who can force me to. Whatever they think they’re playing, it’s not a tango.”

“Tinker, you couldn’t possibly have expected them to play tangos,” Marco said, turning white. “I told you a hundred times, the tango lessons were only meant to give you an
attitude
, a feeling for your body, a way to hold yourself, a way to
think
about yourself—my God, how often did we talk about it?”

“I don’t remember,” Tinker replied stubbornly. “I
intend
to tango, Marco, surely you understand?”

“Tinker, we need to talk seriously,” Marco said, forcing his most charming smile, his most persuasive voice. “Come with me,
cara
, we’ll go to one of the
treatment rooms and find someplace quiet for a little chat.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jordan said. “I’m all dressed.”

“No. She’ll be more reasonable with fewer people around. It’s too crowded in here, too much smoke, that’s all. Believe me, I’ve coped with nervous models for years.”

“Justine’s upstairs … do you want to send for her? Or Frankie?”

“It’s not necessary, Jordan, I assure you. Remember I’ve been working with Tinker every day for two weeks, I know her moods better than anyone.”

“But this is more than a mood!” Jordan insisted fiercely.

Ignoring her, Marco took Tinker by one hand, flung a big towel over her naked shoulders and led her away, out of the beauty salon, across the reception room and into the calm of the locker room that led to a series of luxurious, quiet marble rooms designed for various beauty treatments. Finally, inside the door of a massage room he stopped and sat down on the toweling-covered table.

“Here, isn’t this better?” he asked, patting the toweling invitingly. “There’s a big Jacuzzi next door, eight people can use it, but this is more relaxing, don’t you think, Tinker? Sit down,
bella.”

“Just for a minute,” she said sullenly, hugging the towel around her.

“Ah, poor Tinker, I deeply apologize for the band. If only you’d been here last night and I’d discovered our misunderstanding, I’d have ordered them to change their sound, to play only tangos.”

“It’s too late now. I won’t go on.”

“But, Tinker, this is your big chance. And you walk beautifully now, I’ve seen you do it over and over. Tinker, remember, you and I know that you have the best dresses, that you’ll be the star of the show.”

“I’m going to tango,” she repeated. Marco looked at her carefully. She hadn’t listened to a word he’d said,
this mule of a girl. If he could strangle her, he’d do so happily, but he needed her, she was essential.

“Of course Tinker,” Marco said gently. “No problem. So—I don’t know about you, my little darling, but as for me, this is the moment that I have a sip of Goddess to quiet my nerves.”

“Goddess? What’s Goddess?” Tinker asked sullenly.

“A cocktail, something quite marvelous. Actually it was invented especially for runway models. No matter how high strung they are, Goddess makes them feel wonderful, calm and collected, at their very best. I find that in this business, even a designer needs a nip of Goddess before the collection. All the top girls take it, you know, they never go on without something to soothe their nerves.”

“I’ve seen those pictures,” Tinker mused, distracted from her anger. “A last puff of a cigarette and a glass of champagne—the supermodel special. Do they drink Goddess too?”

“Of course they do. But not when the photographers are looking at them. It’s a secret of the inner circle. Here, smell it.” Marco took a small flacon out of his pocket, uncapped it and offered it to Tinker. She sniffed cautiously.

“It doesn’t smell like alcohol.”

“There’s very little in it … it’s mostly herbs.” He lifted the flacon to his lips and then stopped. “Forgive me, Tinker darling, what bad manners I have. I should have offered you some first. Here, while we still have a peaceful moment to unwind, try it.”

“Oh, I don’t know … I think that maybe a glass of champagne is a better idea.”

“Nonsense … Goddess is better and it lasts longer. Champagne is only enough to give you the courage to step out on the runway, then you burn it up quickly. Goddess lasts through the whole collection, with no hangover, because of the herbs. Here, let me give you a sip.”

“Oh well, I guess so, if you really think I should.”
Tinker wet her tongue with the liquid. “It doesn’t have a taste, Marco. No taste and no smell. How bad can it be?”

“I told you,
bellissima
, it’s good, very, very good, and calming. Now, allow me my little nip, if you please.”

“You don’t have to walk down a runway in front of hundreds of people, Marco,” Tinker said with a sudden, mischievous smile. “You don’t really need it. Anything called Goddess is obviously meant for women anyway.” She lifted the flacon again and took several big gulps. “There’s not much left,” she giggled. “Here, you can have it now.”

Marco took the almost empty flacon and slipped it in an inside pocket. “How do you feel? Better?”

“Much
better! Oh, ever so much more relaxed. It works so fast, it’s amazing. Why did you never tell me about Goddess before, Marco? Were you saving it for someone else?”

“Actually, I’ll tell you the truth, sweet Tinker, I was saving it for myself—you know how much this collection means to me—but I could see that you needed it more.”

“You’re an angel, Marco! I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me!”

“But Tinker, if you tell anyone about it, they’ll all want some Goddess, and there isn’t enough left to make a difference. Promise me you won’t tell.
Not anyone
. You must promise me. Especially April and Jordan or they’ll accuse me of favoring you … they think that already, and this will make it worse, you understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I won’t say a word. I’m the one who gets Goddess, not them. I’m the one who did all the work, aren’t I? Standing up all day, the tango lessons, never complaining about anything, inspiring you? I deserve Goddess because I’m the best, aren’t I?”

“You are, my darling, you are.” He glanced at his watch. Goddess worked quickly. Tinker had responded beautifully. Her eyes were brilliant, and the consuming
need for affection and attention that motivated some runway models to perform had expanded beyond what he had hoped. And, as he’d hoped, she’d forgotten her obsession with the tango.

“We still have a little time, Tinker, my beloved little girl. We don’t have to go back to that crowded dressing room for a while,” Marco said caressingly. This was his last chance to be alone with her, his last opportunity to make her pay for the way she’d treated him, the way she’d kept him at a distance and played her filthy games with him.

“Ah, good … I feel so happy—I’m floating—I feel as if I can do anything now. I’m not afraid of the runway.”

“Tinker, do you know the reason why some girls glow so much that they seem to explode in beauty out there on the runway, and others, equally beautiful, pass unnoticed, as if they didn’t count?”

“Goddess?”

“Not Goddess alone, my love. Goddess helps, of course, but there’s something else too.”

“Then I want it, Marco!” Tinker sat bolt upright, her eyes gleaming with insistence, her freckles showing clearly in her excitement.

“It takes two to create that glow,
bellissima
, it requires a man’s help.”

“A makeup man?”

“No, darling, not a makeup man, but a man who loves the model, a man who allows her, who
permits
her to take him in her mouth and satisfy him completely, before she goes on the runway. Nothing else can give a girl that special glow,
nothing
. It’s exactly like being in love.”

“I’ve never heard that,” Tinker said without any sign of surprise. “But then I’d never heard of Goddess either … there’s so much to learn, isn’t there, Marco?”

“Shall I do that for you, Tinker? Shall I allow, shall I
permit
you to satisfy me so that you’ll have that extra winning glow on top of Goddess?”

“I don’t know … is it the right thing to do, Marco?”

“Of course it is, my darling. You’re the one I owe the most to. You deserve it. Here, put your hand here, feel me, yes, it’s big already, from being close to you, but you must keep both hands on me so you’ll feel it grow bigger. It’s all for you,
mi amore
, all for you, but you must take it only in your mouth, and only when I tell you, you understand.”

“Only in my mouth,” Tinker whispered, “I understand.”

“Kneel between my legs,” he ordered, suddenly harsh and avid with his own excitement. Too bad that she was willing, he thought, yet with that much Goddess in her he could hardly expect the thrill of resistance. But she was his abject slave at last and that had a flavor of its own. If he only had more time, the things he would make her submit to.… “Kneel there, at my feet. And now, lean over.” Marco guided her bright head quickly down toward his heavy, straining penis. “Suck me and then drink me. Don’t stop, not for a second, I’m almost ready now. Yes, that’s the way, but harder, you must suck harder, you must open your mouth wider, you must take it all, you must drink every drop, you must earn it, earn the glow.”

T
here she is!” April exclaimed. Tinker glided rapidly toward them, the big towel wrapped around her head and falling to cover her breasts, her cheeks rosy, her smile blissful.

“Feel better, baby?” Jordan asked anxiously.

“Piece of cake,” Tinker answered, with a radiant look, taking her seat at the makeup counter. “What’s one more fashion show anyway? You just get yourself together and do it. It’s another gig, that’s all. It’s a mental place you put yourself into.”

“Is that what Marco explained?” April asked, stunned by the change in Tinker.

“He made it all so simple.”

“Will you let me do your face now, for God’s sake?” a makeup artist asked nervously. “You realize you’re on first and I haven’t had a minute with you, damn it. Do you want to hold up the show?”

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” Tinker said sweetly. “I must have been a bit nervous. I’m okay now. Do whatever you want to do, I’m all yours.” She closed her eyes and relaxed, the smile never leaving her face until he asked her to open her lips so that he could fill in her lip liner with color. He leaned closely toward her mouth and worked on it with sure, delicate strokes. “Somebody just got real lucky with this one,” he muttered to himself as he smelled the sperm on her breath.

Soon Tinker was ready, her hair brushed out loosely and naturally over her shoulders, dressed in the
all-but-naked, coral chiffon ball gown. “I don’t know why I’m so cold, does everybody feel as cold as I do?” she inquired mildly.

“It must be the yards and yards of fabric in that four-inch bodice,” April answered. “Here, put your cape around you. Oh, Tinker, it’s like a feather! Who would believe how light it is?”

“I know,” Tinker laughed, “isn’t it wonderful? Give me that towel again, will you please, Jordan? I don’t want to get the cape messed up. Oh! Have you seen yourselves? The two of you look so beautiful that I could cry. I wish I’d been here last night … are you doing the runway together?”

“No, first Jordan in the brown and lilac and then me in the lilac gown and brown bolero. Marco wants the audience to immediately realize the importance of color in this collection. He says because Jordan’s black and I’m white, they’ll think we’re showing two entirely different dresses for just long enough to get the point. He’s a game player.”

“Marco’s wonderful,” Tinker breathed. “He made me feel so much calmer, yet I’m ready for anything … anything at all.”