On the screenin front of me, I watch Tami Long emerge from a car and step onto the red carpet, smiling and giving a little wave to the crowd gathered. The premiere is for a psychological thriller that’s rumored to have award potential, and the actors who starred in it are big names, so the number of onlookers is substantial. It’s the perfect opportunity to launch a rebranded Kane Fortney.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he slides out of the car and joins Tami, and I don’t think I’m imagining the flurry of camera flashes. It might be because the two of them are a popular pair, but I like to think the photographers see what I do: something worth noticing. Phil did a phenomenal job with the design for tonight, elevating a classic tux into something fun and unexpected. The nap of sapphire-blue velvet would gleam anyway in the intense lights set up for the cameras, but the black satin stripes outlining the sharply tailored darts in the jacket not only break up the expanse of velvet, but also highlight it. The black satin lapels frame the open-necked darker blue silk shirt and provide the perfect backdrop for the sapphire-and-diamond lapel pin. I talked my contact at Bvlgari into loaning us Kane’sjewelry for tonight, and while there’s a chance it means I’ll owe them a favor, if things go how I expect them to, they’re going to count the debt paid in full when the blogs start posting.
Phil, with my wholehearted agreement, let the jacket be the star of the show, making the tuxedo pants classic black wool with satin stripes on the outside leg to tie the suit together and add a nod to old Hollywood glamour. Everything is cut and tailored perfectly to suit Kane, and the sapphire-and-black combination has the added benefit of making his blue eyes and dark-gold hair glow in a way that black alone never could.
I flick a glance toward the other windows open on the right side of my screen—social media sites with alerts set up for Kane’s name. A few notifications have already popped up, but those are from people in the crowd—I can go through the comments and replies on them later. The ones I’m waiting for are from the entertainment and fashion press.
Tami and Kane move out of the camera’s frame, and as another car pulls up to disgorge its passengers, I change feeds to watch the section of the carpet in front of the pen, where the actors will pose with the promotional backdrop for the still photographers to get their shots. When I was starting out, before livestreaming, before Wi-Fi and decent data plans, this wasn’t an option. The stylist I worked with back then would chain smoke for hours on the nights of big events, waiting until the red carpet was done and the photographers could get back to an internet connection to upload and post pictures. He told me horror stories of his early days, before the internet and digital cameras, when people in the industry had to wait for the print publications to see what the reactions were.
This way is much better.
It’s not Kane’s turn in front of the cameras yet, so I take the opportunity to check those social media posts. There are a few more of them now, some with photos, but aside from theoccasional “love that jacket” or “wow, that’s way better than last time,” there’s nothing noteworthy. Good early indications, though.
“How’s it going?” Amina asks, coming into my office with her purse slung over her shoulder and a takeout bag in the other hand. She drops it on my desk and makes herself comfortable in the chair across from me.
“You didn’t have to come back,” I protest, even as I reach for the bag. I can smell fries, and I’m starving. I skipped lunch because I was double-checking we had everything we needed for Kane’s look tonight, and then I was at his place shoring up his confidence and making sure the hairstylist got his trim and style exactly right before we dressed him. I came straight back here once I’d put him into the back of the car to pick up Tami.
“You think I don’t want to see this too?” Amina counters, taking the boxed burger I pass her. “This is the first client I’ve worked with you on from the beginning.”
I grin. “How sentimental.”
She throws a greasy fry at me, and we both gasp when it nearly lands on the sleeve of my Saint Laurent shirt.
“Okay, I regret that,” she says, gesturing to the fry that’s now on the arm of my chair, “but not what I said. This is a landmark moment for me.”
Relenting, I drop the offending piece of potato safely on the top of my desk, then admit, “For me too. The first big event for a new client matters a lot.”
She opens her mouth to reply, then pauses and points at the screen. “He’s up.”
We watch as Kane and Tami move slowly along the carpet, stopping every few feet to let a new group of photographers take pictures from the best angle, looking left, straight on, then right so everyone can get a usable shot, then separating and repeating the process individually so everyone can get solo shots of them.It’s long and repetitive, and they need to do it all while smiling. Good thing they get paid to act for a living.
It’ll be a few minutes before the photos post, though by the time they get to the end of the carpet, the first lot should be close. Again, I’m grateful for the modern technology that allows almost immediate upload to socials without the photographers needing to spend more than a minute or two on it.
“I think that went well,” Amina declares, and I shoot her an amused look. “No, I know we haven’t seen the results yet,” she defends. “But there was more interest in him than there used to be when he was basic, and sinceyoudressed him, we know that can’t be because his look is disastrous.”
I rap my knuckles against my desk to ward off bad luck. “Don’t jinx us.” My gaze goes back to the screen. There are a few video cameras set up at the end of the carpet, entertainment reporters getting soundbites right before the celebrities go inside, but Kane’s publicist said she hadn’t gotten any real interest when she put out feelers earlier this week. That doesn’t mean anything, of course—it’s not like they need to set up an appointment. I try not to hold my breath?—
“Yesss,” I hiss when E! News and Access Hollywood both gesture toward Kane and Tami. Their handler takes them to E! first, and I hurry to bring up the site and click into the livestream.
“…look stunning tonight,” the reporter is saying to Tami, who smiles and makes the appropriate responses. Then she turns her attention to Kane. “And wow, look at you! That’s a fabulous tux, Kane.”
“Thank you. Phil Marchand at Phallacy is a genius,” he responds smoothly, his smile somehow looking self-deprecating and proud at the same time. I give him a mental high-five for saying the designer’s name on camera.
“Phallacy?” the reporter repeats, sounding more intrigued than I expected. “That’s not what I expected from you.”
Kane winks, managing to make it charming and not sleazy. “I like to surprise people sometimes.”
She moves on to asking them if they’re looking forward to the movie, and they both mention their castmate who’s in it, subtly making the link back to their sitcom, and then they move on to Access Hollywood. I change sites and watch a similar interview.
“He looks like he’s stepped off the set of a movie where he plays the romantic hero,” Amina says. “You were so right to change his tailoring.”
“Thank you.” Switching windows again, I start scrolling through the posts from entertainment photographers and media outlets. Most of them are just pictures with his name, but some have been updated by editorial staff to identify Phallacy and Bvlgari as what he’s wearing, thanks to the press release Kane’s publicist sent earlier. A few others already have brief commentary from the fashion reporters, and I home in on those.
Jaw-dropping new look from Kane Fortney… who knew he was hiding his light all these years?
Kane Fortney dazzles in little-known designer Phallacy!
A smile curves my mouth, and I skim through some of the comments from the public. Aside from the usual homophobes and a small assortment of people who just don’t like that style, they’re overwhelmingly positive and enthusiastic.
