Fashion Faux Paw (18 page)

“It sounds perfectly legal to me,” said Patti.

“Okay, then. Will you take care of it?”

“I’m going to give it my best shot.”

The supermodel sidled away, and Ellie crossed her arms in thought. Digging in her bag, she found a pen and wrote her mother’s name and address on the envelope. When Julie returned with the treat container, she pulled out two twenties to offer to Julie as a thank-you.

“All finished,” said her assistant when she arrived, looking pleased with what she’d accomplished.

“How would you like to get out of here for a while, and run an errand for me?”

“Out of here? You mean
outside
out of here?”

Ellie quirked her upper lip. “There is another world out there, you know. One where the poor folks who wear off-the-rack live.”

Julie elbowed her in the ribs. “I know that, silly. And yes, I could use some fresh air.”

“Good.” She passed her the envelope and cash. “I need you to drop something off for me. This should cover cab fare, and you can keep the change. If traffic’s bad and it gets close to five by the time you finish, go home and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Gee, thanks,” said Julie, removing her jacket from the back of a chair. “That’s very nice of you.”

When the assistant left, Ellie sat and assessed the job before her. Just about everyone in this business liked animals, a plus in her mind. Too bad they were so wrapped up in a person’s outer appearance that they ignored what was on the inside. If Lilah had tried to look at the world in a deeper way, she might still be alive and well, not—

Someone tapped on her shoulder, causing her to turn on the chair.

“Nice to see that you found another assistant. That must give you more free time to talk to your dog.”

It was Marcus David, dressed in his usual sedate-yet-sexy manner. The blue of his long-sleeved shirt set off the color of his eyes, and its cut perfectly accentuated his rugged form.

“I—uh—yes—I guess so.”

“Well, at least you’re honest about it. The talking to your dog part, I mean.”

His cheeky grin made him look even more charming than usual. She was certain he’d have a successful career as a male model if he wanted a change from designing clothes. “There’s nothing I can do but be honest when I’m caught red-handed.”

“I admire that in a woman. Now, not to change the subject, but are you going to the party?”

Ellie sighed. “Do you mean the one tonight, after the Isaac Mizrahi show?”

“No, I’m talking about Saturday night, the evening after the NMD winner is announced. The designers, models, and dogs will be stuck here all evening posing for the press, and the next day is scheduled for more schmoozing and picture-taking, but Saturday night is another story. There’s going to be a big private celebration at Nola and Morgan’s penthouse.” He cocked his head. “And I’m looking for a date.”

Ellie gazed at the models talking in groups, most of them wearing little more than sheer dressing gowns that showed off their first-class figures. “I’m sure you’ll find one. You have plenty of women to choose from.”

He took a step closer, his lips stretching into a wide smile. “Actually, I was hoping to find someone who wasn’t wrapped up in the fashion world. Maybe someone more interested in, say, dogs.”

Heat rose from Ellie’s neck to her face, a sure sign she was blushing. “Dogs?” she repeated. Duh! “Oh, sorry, but I don’t date. I’m living with a guy, and we’re pretty tight.”

He reached out and ran a thumb over her jaw. “What’s wrong with two friends spending an evening out? It’s almost business, and we’re going to the same place, so why not go together?”

“Since I doubt I’ll be invited to the party, I’m fairly certain it would be a date. And I’d have to make sure Sam didn’t mind before I gave you an answer. Besides, he might be free, and if he is I want to spend the time with him.”

“Ouch, that hurt,” Marcus said, his grin less enthusiastic.

“Sorry, but I tend to say what I mean. It’s not that I don’t find you attrac—er—I mean you’re nice to look—” Positive she was blushing again, Ellie ran her fingers through her hair. Would she ever learn?

“Don’t worry, because I think the same about you, only I don’t have a girlfriend right now, so I’m in the market for someone to hang with.” He shook his head. “And I was certain a girl like you would have an open mind.”

He said it so sweetly, she couldn’t get annoyed. “I do have an open mind, but Sam and I
don’t
have an open relationship. We’ve been living together for six months, and I don’t want to rock the boat.”

“Hmm.”

Unsure of the meaning of his noncomment, she narrowed her eyes. “Is there something else you wanted?”

“There is.” He straightened to his full height. “I’ve finished the outfits for Muffin and Cheech. Can I bring the dogs to my station for a fitting, or do you need to be with them while I work?”

Did she? So far, no one had given her that rule, but now she wondered. She was responsible for the daily maintenance and care of the canines. It was her job to make sure they were groomed to look their best and their duds fit correctly at the grand finale. But what if one of them disappeared before then, while they were in a designer’s hands? Would she be held accountable?

Of course, now that she had Julie she could handle it, but she’d just given the girl the rest of the day off. Should she stay here and look after the dogs, or leave them and bring those that were ready for a fitting to the designer’s booth?

She eyed Clark Fettel, dressed in a winter-white jacket, red slacks, and a matching shirt, still hanging at the edge of the crowd as if waiting for a problem to arise. As her NMD contact, maybe he could give her a hint on what to do.

Lost in thought, she snapped to attention when Marcus touched her arm. “Sorry if the question is a difficult one. I just didn’t want to do something NMD wouldn’t approve of.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. There’s a lot going on today, so I’m trying to get my priorities in order. Give me a minute with Mr. Fettel before you take the dogs.”

“Sure, fine.” He grabbed a bottle of water and started perusing the food table. “I’ll just hang here.”

Glancing at the pen, she tallied canine heads, then made her way toward Clark. “Do you have time for a question?” she asked when she came up beside him.

“I’ve been waiting for you to finish with Marcus. I was sent by Nola and Morgan specifically to speak with you, so hear me out first, please.”

Had she done something wrong, or was he here to find out if she was accepting NMD’s plea to help clear Jeffery King’s name? Steeling herself, she focused on Clark, who was staring at her as if she were an unsavvy shopper at a blue-light special. “What was it you wanted to speak to me about?”

“It’s two things, really. First of all, you’re invited to the NMD party being held Saturday evening at their penthouse.” He took a step back and ran his gaze over her from bottom to top and back again for the fifth—or was it sixth?—time. “It will be a fancy affair with the major movers and shakers in the business in attendance, so you might want to, um, change into something more, ah, formal before you arrive.”

Ellie’s cheeks filled with heat again, but this time the blush came from anger. Her clothes weren’t Versace or Posen, but they were clean and up-to-date. The jeans were her new Calvin Klein’s, and her jacket was a year-old DKNY she’d found on a markdown rack.

“I know how to dress,” she began. “And since I don’t walk my charges on Saturday, I’ll have plenty of time to clean up right.” She added a Southern accent to the last three words to let him know what she meant. “In my line of work, wearing Gucci isn’t exactly the smartest thing to do.”

“Of course, of course,” he offered in a sour tone. “Oh, and Nola and Morgan wanted to speak with you at six. They know it’s beyond the time they hired you for, but they were hoping you could make it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Personally, for the outrageous sum you’ve been paid, I’d do whatever they wanted. But it’s your call.”

Ellie bit back a snarky retort. Ceasing to deal with the odious Clark Fettel was another reason she’d be happy to see Jeffery King again in charge. “I’ll be glad to wait here for them,” she said, continuing her forced smile. “Please let them know.

“There’s one more thing—” she started to say.

She closed her eyes when Clark walked away without answering. How much more rudeness could the man pack into one day? Seconds later, he returned leading two men she assumed worked backstage, each carrying a large wooden platform. When they set the platforms up, one on top of the other, it was clear they were sized to form a two-tiered stage.

Behind them trotted a gofer hoisting an armload of fabric. The woman and the two men spread the fabric over the staging area, covering both levels with a bright red cloth. The woman continued arranging the fabric and the men disappeared, only to return a minute later with a huge piece of plywood, onto which was painted an iron fence and flowers surrounding a lovely bucolic scene.

“Exactly what are you planning to do?” she asked Clark, one brow raised.

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re setting up for a photo shoot.”

Before Ellie could speak, the two stagehands returned with lights anchored on the top of tall poles, the type she’d seen whenever a talk show panned to a wide audience view. When they set the poles in place and plugged in the light cords, the area was bathed in a brilliant wash of pale gold.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” said Clark. “Get the dogs in position.”

“You want me to do what?” asked Ellie.
The man was insane.

“For their photo shoot. Their jumbo pictures are going to be posted on the walls around the viewing area when the runway walk takes place tomorrow.” He clapped his hands. “Hurry up now. Get these animals lined up on the tiers and sitting in place.”

Ellie heaved a breath. No one had told her this was a part of her job. How in the world was she supposed to—?

“Chop, chop, Ms. Engleman. Time’s wasting.” Clark circled the dogs and pointed. “Let’s take that tiny white one and the fuzzy brown one and set them side by side. We can put the two with the—”

“Hang on a second,” she cried. “I need to think.” What she really needed was a short huddle with the dogs, so she could tell them what was needed and ensure their cooperation. She had no idea which dogs, if any, were able to follow a sit-stay command or would tolerate being seated next to a fellow dog they didn’t like. She had to be careful or there’d be canine chaos.

“Think? About what? It’s simple enough,” Clark huffed out.

She held up a hand. “If you want this to go right, I’ll need five minutes alone with my charges.”

Fettel frowned, then gazed around the area. “All right. Five minutes. The photographer has yet to arrive, so I’ll find him and make sure he has all that he needs.”

She waited for the space to clear, then sat on the lowest riser and called her charges over. They obeyed and she smiled. This might work after all.

“Okay,” she began. “You heard the man. It’s time for your glamour shot.”

Doggie voices rang in her head, so many she wasn’t sure which animal was saying what. Speaking in a low tone, she said, “Hang on a second. Let’s do this one at a time.” She gazed at the two smallest dogs, Muffin and Daisy. “He wants the two of you front and center. Can you sit still long enough for me to arrange the others around you?”

The Yorkie yipped, while Daisy spoke.
“For you, anything.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. So, you know your places.” She gazed at Klingon and Jojo, the mini Schnauzers. “Think you can hold up the outer edges on the first tier?”

Jojo sneezed.
“Yes, ma’am. I know we can.”

“Great. And for the rest of you . . .” She eyed the French bulldogs, a second Yorkie, and Cheech. “You four will be on the top. Are you ready to cooperate?”

Baby raised her tiny nose in the air.
“Not unless I’m front and center on the top tier.”

“What makes you think you should be the star?”
asked Kiki, the French bulldog.
“Isn’t it obvious who the star is in this group?”

Ellie suppressed an eye roll. “How about if I move you around for each picture, so you’ll each have a turn sitting front and center?”

“Nuh-uh. It’s me or nobody.”

“You’re kiddin’, right?”

Other dogs joined in, each one voicing a complaint.

“What about me?”
barked the Greyhound, his shout drowning out the other dogs’ complaints.

“Sorry, big boy, but I don’t think you’ll be allowed in the photos,” Ellie answered, happy to see that the grousing had stopped.

The dogs’ attention had snapped to the left and she turned to find Clark Fettel and a bored-looking guy holding a camera staring at them.

“What in the world are you doing?” Clark asked Ellie.

The shorter man gave a shrug and answered before she could. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s getting the subjects ready. I see it all the time in animal sittings.”

Ellie stood. “Thanks for understanding. I think we’re ready, but I have a suggestion. How about we move the dogs around in each photo? That way they’ll look different. You know, break up the scenes.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” said the photographer.

Taking her time, Ellie set the dogs in place for the first photo and stood back. “There, what do you think?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure.” Clark tapped his chin. “I know. We have an even number. We need another dog to sit dead center on the bottom tier.” She followed his gaze and saw Rudy curled on his mat, wearing a grumpy expression. Clark pointed. “That’s the dog I want.”

Before Ellie could get him, Rudy wrapped himself into a tighter ball.
“No way, no how,”
he mumbled, his voice a growl.
“Touch me and I’ll howl the house down.”

Chapter 10