I stared at myself in the mirror. Who was this … goddessstaring back at me? The dress was a miracle, there was no doubt. The delicate fabric skimmed my curves, nipping and flaring in all the right places, while the color made my muddy eyes pop. Sol’s glam squad had transformed my unruly waves into retro pin-curls, one side pinned back with golden barrettes and … were those cheekbones?
“So?” Sol squealed. “What do you think?”
“I—” I struggled to find words. “I never thought I could look like this.”
“Like what?” Sol asked.
I licked my lips. “I look beautiful.”
“And that’s news only to you,” Sol said with a giggle.
“Nothing to do with my mastery then?” Blaise muttered from across the room.
“Apologies, my darling.” Sol giggled. “We merely enhanced what was already there. You can finally see what the rest of us do.”
I was touched. “Thank you. All of you. This is … well, I’ll remember this for the rest of my life.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The road to the New York Botanical Gardens was lined with throngs of people teeming behind the barricades, some waving signs with messages for Sol as screams of delight rent the air. It was unsettling, but Sol didn’t blink; she was firing off emails and muttering exchanges with Naya.
As the car turned into the Gardens, I shot a text to Michelle to let her know our arrival was imminent. I knew from my briefings that we would alight outside one of the famous hothouses, whereupon a red carpet would lead us into the hothouse itself to walk through the featured display of killer plants – among selected paparazzi and influencers who would document Sol’s progress – and then out into an open space where an outdoor screen was set up to play the feature for all the guests. Sol wasn’t going to stay for the whole show, however. I was to escort her to a luxury trailer to change into a new outfit, even though she was only going to be at the after-party for a short while before making her way to Teterboro airport to fly to Paris.
The car turned through the Botanical Gardens’ huge gates, flanked by an army of black-suited security guards ushering us through with blank-faced severity. We crawled down theavenue and then stopped. Outside the car I could see the carpet, velvet ropes and photographers … lots of photographers. Further down the carpet I could see a few RJF staff and VIP guests in fabulous gowns, but the one person I hoped to see wasn’t in view. Elliot had assured me he would drop everything atWoodstockto be here tonight.
Sol looked otherworldly in a custom-made Valentino gown, constructed from cream silk that flowed around her like lily petals. Huge emeralds clustered at her ears and wrists and fine golden chains twinkled from where they were woven into her elaborate hair.
“Are you ready?” I asked, as our driver opened the rear passenger door.
Sol lifted her chin, all business. “Let’s go.”
I slid out of the car, trying not to wince as camera flashes erupted before me like a solid wall of fireworks. I turned, offered my hand to Sol, who gracefully took it as she glided out of the vehicle and onto the red carpet. Naya and I followed a few paces behind her, allowing the paparazzi to get clear shots of the star of the moment. Although it was fascinating to watch Sol work the carpet up close, I couldn’t help looking around for Elliot, and Naya had to hiss at me to stop fidgeting.
As Sol finished chatting to one outlet, a woman in a chic black gown rushed over to swoop her up in a hug.Wow.It was Janice Kittredge. As much as I wanted to pepper her with questions, I hung back politely as she and Sol embraced and chatted.
“Sol Rodrigues, you are a woman in demand,” Janice cooed, clutching Sol’s hands. “I’ve had some compelling pitches today; but two had you as lead.”
“Two?” Sol blinked with confusion.
“Yes!” Janice laughed.
I held my breath.
“RJ’s script is a masterpiece,” Janice went on, much to my delight. “The other pitch was very intriguing though. It’s given me a lot to think about.”
“Janice, I wish my manager was here,” Sol said. “Because I’m not aware of any projects I’m attached to being pitched to studio this week – apart from RJ’s that is.”
“Oh.” Janice frowned. “Well it’s—” She was interrupted by security encouraging everyone to keep the flow of traffic going down the carpet. “Okay, okay. We’ll talk later, yes?” And with that, she tottered off with her team of suits.
Sol turned to look at Naya and me. “That was weird.”
But there was no time to dwell as Sol embarked on another round of pictures and interviews, calling me over to help with her dress or check a movie-related fact, which, thanks to Michelle’s excellent briefing, I was able to supply.
Eventually, we made it to the end of the carpet. My feet were already killing me; the shoes might have been beautiful, but I was dying to tear them off and throw them in the nearest bin. We’d arrived at a little paved area surrounded by spectacular flower beds that filled the air with an intoxicating scent. In front of us was a small set of steps that led into the ‘Killer Plants’ exhibit. Haunting music drifted towards us from the conservatory, where a live singer was serenading the premiere guests.
“God, I need a cigarette,” Sol wailed, hopping from foot to foot; her heels were even more treacherous than mine.
“You cannot smoke in that dress,” Naya said sternly.
