“Isn’t it great?”
“I totally see what you mean.” She smiled. “It is screaming out for an adaptation. And I could see myself in the role of Camilla, what do you think?”
Was this a real conversation I was having? Or some kind of fever dream? I pinched myself: nope, still real. “I think you’d be perfect.”
“Awesome,” she said. “Look, we’ll keep talking, yes? But I see something very special here.”
“Yes,” I rasped, trying not to pass out from excitement. My phone buzzed with a check-in text from Michelle, so I was able to distract myself with that.
The manicurist tugged on Sol’s foot. “Okay, let these dry.”
“Right, I’ll stay still.” Sol stopped, looking me over. “Why not do Lucie here?”
“Huh?” I looked up from my phone.
“You’re getting glam, right?” Sol asked.
“Sure, I brought something smart to wear.” I gestured at my dress then pulled my make-up bag out of my tote. “I thought I’d just refresh my make-up before we leave.”
Sol scowled. “If you’re walking down the carpet with me, you’re getting full glam.”
“I don’t need—”
“Baby, you need,” sniped Blaise, Sol’s make-up artist, with a grimace.
“But no one will be taking pictures ofme,” I said. “Why does it matter?”
“It matters for reasons,” Sol said. “So relax. Blaise is a genius. Now, I need to go over my talking points wi— What in the sad eighties thrift store isthat?”
Sol’s stylist, Lando, had lifted my dress to inspect it. “It’s my outfit for tonight,” I said. “Michelle said I should wear something nice, and this is—”
“This is polyblend.” Lando dropped the dress as if it had burned him.
“Lucita, no no.” Sol wagged a finger. “You cannot walk the carpet with me in that.”
“But it’s nice!” I tried not to sound insulted. “Honestly, you’d think it was a Vivienne Westwood.” At least, that was what the girl working in the charity shop I’d found it in had assured me.
“I guarantee no one would think that,” Lando said.
“But the boning!” I yelped. “And the way the skirt—”
“The skirt makes me want to start a war,” Lando said. “I hate it. I want to track down whichever imbecile owns—” he squinted at the label “—Forum Fashand set them on fire.”
“So, just to be clear you’re kind of neutral on my dress?” I said.
Lando curled his lip. “Sol?”
I looked between Lando and Sol. What did they expect me to do, magically produce a dress that met their ridiculously stringent criteria? “Well, tough. I have nothing else.”
“Sol.Do something.” Lando pleaded, looking physically ill.
“Oh, this is all you, baby,” she said back to him. “We got time. Send Kylie to Bergdorf’s or something.” She turned to Blaise. “Can you work your magic?”
It sounded as if Sol was telling Lando to actually buy me a dress. “You don’t need to go anywhere,” I interjected as Blaise began circling me, his gaze intent upon my skin. “I have a dress right there.”
“Bergdorf’s?” Lando repeated, incredulously. “As if. Sol, we’re on Madison.”
“You’re right,” Sol breathed reverently. “Saab.”
