Chapter Five
Ivy
Dean was hot. His navy suit was cut well against his body and he was tall. The perfect height for someone like myself. I dwarfed most men, but adding heels into the mix was a deadly combination. But with him, the cheek of my face would plant perfectly into the crook of his neck. His thick black hair glistened underneath the lights of the venue and his dark green eyes sucked me in. He was broad. Thick. With arms that would scoop me up without a second thought and powerful legs that could crash through any door he wanted to try and break down. He struck me as a bodyguard or a bouncer more than a doctor, and that intrigued me about him even more. His chest tugged at the light blue button-down shirt of his suit and his smile was kind.
It was almost like his personality didn’t match his body.
I wanted to stay and talk with the handsome stranger who had approached me from across the room, but I couldn’t. One of the models hadn’t shown up and we were thirty minutes out from the damn show. The designer was running around like a chicken with her head cut off and I was in panic mode.
Why the hell had one of the models dropped out?
“I need all of the models with me!” I called out across The High Line.
Everyone was still fraternizing downstairs, so it didn’t bother me to yell across the venue like that. Everyone turned their heads and stopped the conversations they were having and I clocked who all was there. Lucy. Bee. Lexi. Brooke. Rebecca and Jenny and…?
“Where the hell’s Melanie?” I asked.
All of the models looked around before a few of them started pulling out their phones.
“I don’t have any messages from her.”
“I’m calling her right now.”
“I’m getting sent to voicemail.”
“Melanie, call me back when you get this. Did you have a brain aneurysm or something?”
“What are we going to do?” the designer asked. “She’s the key to the entire performance. And our only plus-sized model!”
I closed my eyes as the girls started rattling off all sorts of things. How maybe some of the girls could double-up their outfits. Or how we could rearrange their order and simply do more costume changes. But the girls were too thin and the outfits would have to be re-pinned and it would take so much more time than thirty minutes. And postponing the show wasn’t a solution. It would only make myself and the designer look bad. This was the first show ever where I was on the docket for credits as a major hand in this production, and I wasn’t going to let this shit fall through.
“What if I wore the outfits?” I asked.
Everyone panned their gaze over to me and I sighed.
“I’m a little taller than Melanie, but we can put me in different heels. I know the choreography, and I’d fill out her outfits better than the other girls would.”
I looked over at the designer who had shock written all over her face.
“Have you ever walked a catwalk?” she asked.
“You mean besides everyday in rehearsals for the past five years?” I asked.
“I mean in front of an audience,” she said. “It’s much different with an audience, Ivy.”
“Do you have a choice? Our other choices are to postpone and re-pin the dresses or switch up the arrangement of the girls last minute and hope no one falls on their face.”
“She’s got a point,” Lucy said.
“And she’d look fabulous in the dresses,” Brooke said.
“I can go rifle through the heels and find her some lower ones so her ankles aren’t showing,” Bee said.
The designer sighed before her head fell back.
“Okay. Let’s do that,” she said. “But we have to get going now. The show starts in twenty-five minutes, and none of you girls are ready.”
“You leave that to me,” I said. “When six o’clock rolls around, you introduce your line and start the music. Leave the rest to me.”
I ushered the girls back into a closed off section of the building. We started rushing around and putting our first outfits on while Bee and I searched for heels for me to wear the entire performance. There weren’t many options. Most of the shoes were stiletto heels or clunkers that still added five inches to my height. The only two options I had were a leopard-printed pair of heels that were three inches tall, and those would only work with one of my dresses.
Thank God the other pair was black two-inch heels that would work with the rest of my outfits.
“If all else fails, we’ll spray paint the bitches,” Bee said. “Now come on. We need to do something with your hair and makeup.”
It was the first time I’d ever been put in this position. I’d never had to deal with a model not showing up. I mean, I’d heard of it happening all the time, but I’d never personally had to deal with the issue. Most choreographers had a string of back-up models they could call last-minute, but I hadn’t been attempting to network and connect with the models. I was still trying to ride the wave of France and imprint myself as a high-end product every fashion show needed.
My hair was piled high on my head and they tried their best to mask the green in it. Makeup was splashed onto my face as someone slipped my feet into the black heels. I got into my first ensemble-- a sleek black dress with a faded brown and silver print that reminded me of a black panther-- and stood in line with all the other models.
Then, the designer got up to announce the show.
“I want to thank you all for coming. This particular collection you are about to witness is drawn from the nature around us. For as long as we have lived on this planet, humans have attempted to destroy it. To leverage Earth as one massive resource instead of living in harmony with it. I drew my inspiration from the animals around us. The animals that wish to live in harmony with us despite the wreckage we have left their natural habitats. Half of the money raised from this show will go to various charities to keep protections on those animals we continue to force into extinction, and half of the profits from this limited designer line will go to funding wildlife protections around the globe.”
People began to clap and I felt my nerves rising in my gut. She was right. It was different with the audience out there. Walking for the models, I was the one in power. The one making the judgment calls and the one tweaking things with their bodies. But this was different. I was no longer the one in control. The one in charge. I was about to walk out into a pack of wild animals whose judgment of me would be based solely on two things.
How neat the outfit looked on me and whether or not I tripped and fell flat on my ass.
The music started and the first model made her entry. I watched her choreography and ran it in my head, suddenly fearful that I would forget it. The next model went, nailing her turn and walking back with a smile on her face. One by one, we all filed out. And the girls that came back rushed to get into their next outfit. I could see the worry in the designer’s eyes. She was sitting at the very front edge, next to the podium, and my eyes connected with hers. I was standing at the ready, waiting for the model in front of me to get back.
Then, it was my turn.
I rolled my shoulders back and breathed to the pounding bass of the music. I set one foot in front of the other, swaying my hips and allowing my arms to dangle at my sides. One turn down the middle of the runway sent the dress flying and I could hear gasps from the audience. The sleek black dress flared out with my sudden movements, exposing the jaguar print underneath the strands of black fabric.
I gave one last turn at the end of the runway, then winked at the designer as I came back.
The entire show went off without a hitch. I put on five different outfits and walked them all with grace and poise. Not a single person fell or forgot their choreography. No one’s heel got caught up in their dress. There wasn’t a single thing that ran awry with the show, and when I made my way back for the last time I felt a wave of relief cascade over my body.
It was over.
We had pulled it off.
I embraced the girls in the back as the designer got up to speak again. She prodded them again for donations and then told everyone to enjoy the drinks and snacks there for their eating pleasure. I sat down in a chair and one of the hair artists began to take my hair down. Removing bobby pins and running a brush through it to disrupt the massive amount of hairspray that had been blown into it.
“Thank you so much.”
A pair of arms flew around my neck before a massive kiss got planted onto the side of my head.
“Wow. I have to say, I’ve never been kissed by a designer before,” I said with a grin.
“You were marvelous up there. And those outfits? It was like they were made for you. That one dress, the black one? It’s yours.”
“No, no. I can’t possibly take that dress. That was a very popular piece. Sell it,” I said.
“Then take the one you’ve got on. It looks fabulous on you. Consider it a ‘thank you’ from me.”
“So what was that kiss?” I asked with a grin.
She slapped my arm and walked away, ready to go entertain her guests.
I dismissed the models so they could go party for the rest of the night. I slipped the heels off my feet and stayed in the dress I was wearing. It was a great one, and I was glad I could take it home. Inspired by the Brazilian rainbow boa, the sandy red and black dress reflected the colors of the rainbow when the light hit it just right. It had an off-the-shoulder design to its straps and had built-in support for the bustier ladies. The fabric was silken and molded itself to my body before falling in a pretty straight pattern down my legs.
And of course, there was a fake snake-skin belt wrapped around my waist. In a bright yellow color.
The makeup artist removed all the heavy makeup, then I slipped myself back into the heels I was wearing originally. They actually went pretty well with the dress. They were a crimson red, and it faded into the background of the sandy red of the dress. I walked out of the enclosed space after thanking everyone for a job well done, then I went to go find me a drink.
“That dress looks stunning on you.”
I smiled at the smooth baritone voice that wafted from behind me.
“Which piece was your favorite, Mr. Alexander?”
“What will it take for you to call me Dean?” he asked.
“Your number,” I said as I sipped my drink precariously.
“And here I thought it was my job to romance your number from you.”
“Is that what you call this dance we’ve been doing?” I asked. “Because I have to say, I’m not sure I would call it romantic.”
“Then what would you call it, Ivy?”
“Magnetic,” I said.
I peered into his beautiful green eyes from beyond my champagne flute. Holy hell, he was a beautiful man. The shadows of the night played off his chiseled features and made me want to fall into his lips. He grinned at me, his cheeks twitching just before a pair of dimples showed themselves.
Oh my gosh. The man had fucking dimples.
I loved dimples.
“Are you sure you aren’t secretly a model? Because you were great up there,” he said.
“I promise I’m not moonlighting as a model in my spare time. We only had one plus-sized model, and when she didn’t show I didn’t have anyone I could call to fill the spot within the amount of time we had.”
“Plus-sized?” he asked. “I would never have assumed you were a plus-sized individual.”
“The fashion world operates on a different standard. If a woman breaches a size ten, she’s a plus-sized model.”
“That's a regular Tuesday for me,” he said.
I giggled and shook my head before I took another sip of my drink.
“Do you choreograph anything else?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“Other than fashion shows. Are you a dance choreographer as well or something?”
“Nope. Strictly fashion shows. It’s a different type of choreography. It would be like me asking you if you are a gynecologist alongside being a trauma doctor.”
“Then, no. You don’t choreograph anything else other than fashion shows,” he said.
I giggled again and my cheeks began to hurt. I liked talking with him. It was easy. It moved effortlessly. His body blocked me from the rest of the crowd and made it feel like it was just the two of us. I wanted to reach out and touch his chest. Feel the strength coursing underneath his skin.
I kept my grip on my champagne glass to keep from making a fool of myself.
“Do you have any plans after the show tonight?” I asked.
“I’ve been invited to dinner by some acquaintances, but I haven’t made a decision one way or another.”
“Well, if you do decide to do dinner, there’s this incredible diner down the road you should try.”
“A diner?” he asked.
“I know, I know. It sounds weird. But they make everything homemade in-house.”
“Define ‘everything’.”
“For a big boy like you? Everything. Their breads. Their sauces. Even their pastas. The meat is locally-sourced and the herbs and vegetables they use are grown on the roof of the place. It’s incredible. You really need to try it.”
“A big boy like myself?”
I blushed underneath his stare and watched him take a sip of his drink.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be. A beautiful woman like yourself should feel free to speak freely around me.”
Oh, how his words weakened my knees.
“I’ll be sure to try it. What’s it called?” he asked.
“Delivery Diner. Because they deliver everything you could possibly want,” I said. “My favorite is their eggplant parmesan. But make sure to skip a meal beforehand. Their portions are massive and you won’t want to leave anything on the plate.”
“Wow. Then I guess I really will have to try it.”
“You really should.”
“Maybe with you sometime?” he asked.
Our eyes connected and I felt my heart stop in my chest. Then I watched as he pulled a card out from his pocket. He handed it to me and I took it, then flipped it over and found his cell number.
“Do you have a pen?” I asked.
He pulled one from the inside of his suit jacket and I took his hand. I wrote my number down on top of it, then smiled as I handed him his pen back. I could see the confused look on his face and I grinned. I enjoyed throwing men off their game. But he quickly pulled out his phone and entered my number, then handed it to me to type in my name.
Three simple letters with a rose next to it.
“There,” I said. “Now you have my number.”
“And you have mine. Which can only mean one thing,” he said.
“Dinner plans?” I asked.
He shook his head before he leaned forward and placed his lips alongside my ear.
“I get to hear you say my name now.”
And the sentiment alone sent shivers down my spine.