Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Oui.”
I let her go back to the line-up, giving myself a single, solitary second to breathe and send a prayer to anyone listening that this show isn’t totally fucked.
“Uhm, hey . . . Autumn?” Molly says, interrupting my moment.
“What?” I grit through clenched teeth.
“Sorry, but what’s up with your designs?” Molly recoils as I snap glaring eyes to hers. “I saw them yesterday, but now they’re . . . well, look.”
Molly points to the backstage monitor, and I see that my fourth look, the green satin pantsuit, is walking. Except it’s not my pantsuit. It looks like the lapels have been trimmed to next-to-nothing skinny, the buttons are undone, and the jacket is swinging dangerously close to a full frontal on the model, and the pants are also rough cut at the hem like Chloe’s dress was, making them a full three inches shorter than I intended.
“What the fuck?” I shout, even louder than before. If the music wasn’t thumping, I’m sure the audience would hear me.
“Your other pieces were . . .” Molly starts, but seeing the flames rising in my cheeks, she points again.
My va-va-voom dress with the thigh slit is now extra wide and extra high, completely scandalous to the point that the model probably flashed vajayjay with every stride down the runway, and the white bridal-inspired gown has skin peek-a-boos cut in it like the first dress did.
Nothing in my collection is as I intended it to be. They’re all . . . ruined. And so am I.
How did this happen? Everything I’ve worked for stripped away in minutes.
I run to the monitor, needing to see my last piece walk. Hopefully, if one out of five designs is right, that can be a tiny light of saving grace. It has to be enough.
Except . . .
Chloe and Simon reach the end of the runway. Simon stops, standing with his legs spread wide and his arms at his side, but I’m looking at Chloe and my mourning gown. The zipper on the side, that I know I locked into place, is half-undone, and a wide swath of Chloe’s bronzed skin and side boob are peeking out.
“No,” I whisper, my hands covering my mouth.
That’s it. The last nail in the coffin. I’m zero for five and utterly humiliated.
I don’t think anything could be worse. But instead of turning to walk back, Chloe aligns herself at Simon’s side and grips his face in her hands before planting a big, open-mouthed kiss to his lips. He freezes for a split second and then . . . kisses. Her. Back.
I’m this close to stomping my way out there myself, but Molly physically holds me back. “One second . . . wait one second and then I’ll create a distraction for you to destroy her.”
I don’t process what she’s saying. I don’t even truly hear her. The only things keeping my feet rooted to this spot are Molly blocking me and the anger and hurt building from deep in my soul, swirling up to the surface.
Chloe finally releases Simon after what seems like an eternity but is probably only two seconds, and then she smiles, holding his hand as they strut back. As they come through the curtain, everyone backstage begins clapping in celebration of a good show, congratulating each other and hugging friends.
I stomp up to Simon and Chloe, barking, “What was that?”
She’s still attached to Simon’s side like a barnacle, and while he’s not touching her, he’s not stopping her from touching him either. Chloe grins happily as she gives Simon an intimate look. “Oh, just a little kiss for old time’s sake.”
“What?” I say quietly as the words slap me squarely in the chest. “You two . . .” I point back and forth between them.
Chloe laughs, a tinkling sound of condescension. “Of course.”
Simon pushes her away then, his eyes imploring me. “A long time ago. She’s Venerable’s niece.”
Chloe flashes innocent doe eyes my way, “Oh! Are you two . . . I didn’t know.” But she knew. It’s obvious that she knew when she gives me a smug smirk of victory.
I hold my hand up, palm toward her. “Say one more word and I will show you a straight-up WWE Smackdown, starting with that pretty face of yours. Take off my dress, get your hands off Simon, and get out of my sight,” I yell. “Now!”
Chloe looks like she might say something else or throw a barbed comment my way, but when sees that I’m deadly serious, she retreats quickly.
“Autumn.” Simon’s voice is hard, commanding. “We’re in the middle of backstage.”
He’s warning me that everyone has frozen and gone silent at the spectacle we’re making . . . that I’m making. They’re all listening and watching us. But I don’t care. I have nothing to lose here . . . I’ve already lost it all.