The young assistant ignored me and stuffed a silk gray pocket square into my left chest pocket. Then she set down her things so she could do my top button and strangle me further with the white bow tie. When she held up the big square glasses with the white frames as if to put them on for me, I maneuvered around her and did my best to walk naturally up to the mirror. The tight pants were threatening parts of me that didn’t like being crowded in.
She watched me with the world-weary face of someone who was used to dealing with temperamental talent. The shoes dangling from her hand were pointed, shiny loafers. Not happening.
I knew exactly what kind of look they were going for. A fastidious nerd. A mean, critical, chic geek whose job it was to dump all over the performances of fresh-faced talent. This was not what I’d had in mind. But if Justin could rip off parts of his outfit, I could make some changes too.
“I want to speak with the person in charge of wardrobe.” My eyes longed to search out Willa, but that would’ve looked weak, like I had to hide behind the one person who wanted me here.
“Um, hang on.” The assistant scrunched up her nose and glanced around, probably debating who to foist me off to. She finally handed me the stupid glasses and walked away, leaving me to stand awkwardly in front of the mirror, which I no longer had a desire to look in. Furious whispers were going on behind the makeshift dressing area, but I couldn’t hear enough to know who was having the semi-silent argument or who was winning.
Somehow, this all felt like a test, or maybe a set up: behind the scenes footage for a get-to-know-you montage. I put on the glasses, just to see the whole of what they’d imagined for me.
Justin came around the corner, doing his cool little double step. He stopped short in front of me and his eyes widened for a moment before he fixed his expression. “Wow, Doug. You’re making me feel a little casual here.”
I ripped off the glasses and put them down on a counter. “They’re finding me something else. Hopefully.”
“Well, maybe you could lose the bow tie, that might—”
Willa shoved Justin out of the way and grabbed my arm. “Follow me.” She had a stack of white clothes under her armpit and she dragged me back into the little dressing area and closed the curtain.
“Willa, I was handling it,” I hissed. “You don’t need to bulldoze your way through this for me.”
She only squared her shoulders and glared back. “Well, I’m known for bulldozing so you’ll just have to deal with it like everyone else. Besides, I’m the only one with a clue what to put you in. Everyone out there answers to Alan, and of the two of us in here, I think I have a better grasp on fashion, no offense.”
“None taken.”
“Good.”
She untied my bow tie with one tug and undid my top two buttons before I covered her hands to stop her. For someone so fierce, I was surprised at how small her hands felt under mine.
“I’m not a Ken doll. Show me what you have for me. I promise I can get dressed on my own.”
Her eyes dropped and she had the sense to look embarrassed. “That’s probably best.” We quickly went through the items. Then she ducked out of the curtain without another word.
Willa
It was the firm pressure of Doug’s hands that undid me. Iwasa bulldozer, and when I saw him step out of the dressing area in that ridiculous getup, I saw red. I ripped the wardrobe lady up and down and then did my own browsing through the rack. This was my show and no one was pigeon-holing Doug into a role I didn’t approve.
Doug was right. I likely would have continued to undress him, so hyper-focused on fixing things that I didn’t seehim, only a problem to be tackled. But once I did, I had to get out of there.
Somehow he could go toe-to-toe with me with just a look. I couldn’t treat him like everyone else because he wasn’t like everyone else.
However, Alan Alders was another story.
I headed straight to the office where I knew Alan was hiding, watching us. We’d talked briefly while my makeup was being done, and I’d kept an eye on his retreat. There was no way he didn’t have his eyes on all this, whether by watching live footage, or through what I suspected was a two-way mirror along the office wall. Maybe both.
He looked up from his gigantic coffee when I came in and matched my long stare. I wanted him to speak first, but I’ve never been the patient type.
“What happened with Doug’s clothes?”
Alan’s lip twitched. “What happened to his hair?” He put down his coffee and rested his elbows on his knees. “I was planning to go with a brooding, beauty-and-the-beast type dynamic between you two, but now that he cut his hair, I’ve been rethinking that. Now I want him analytical, critical, hard to please, even a bit neurotic. I think the audience will love it. You’ll be the beautiful temptation who finally breaks down his walls, makes him loosen up a little. And in order to have him loosen up a little, he has to start all buttoned up, so to speak.”
His calm, detailed answer doused the fiery anger I’d walked in with. I hadn’t expected a logical explanation, and I had to rearrange my thoughts. Alan was no fool. I was getting a masterclass in talking people into or out of things, and it was as frustrating as it was fascinating.
“Alan, listen to me. Trying to recreate him will only backfire. Trust me when I say Doug has a brilliant mind, and bridling him with a narrow archetype to play will only stifle his creativity.”
Alan tapped the desk in front of him. “Details, Willa. Let’s stick to details. What did you have in mind for him?”
“He’s here as the critical judge, and there are two basic types of critics—those who lash out in insecurity, and those who have something worthwhile to say. Put him in clothes he hates, and he’ll look insecure in front of the camera. Doug’s look needs to be understated, especially compared to Victoria and Justin who are practically cartoons of themselves already. You can’t have three cartoons. Leave Doug’s clothes to me and I’ll make sure everyone is happy.”
