Shana
The show is over and as we all make our way backstage, I’m exhilarated like never before. It isn’t only that the show is complete or that I didn’t fall and make a total fool of myself—it’s more.
An overwhelming sense of triumph.
Cheers fill the air as everyone makes their way into the dressing room.
From the sound of the crowd and the look on Chantilly’s face, the fashion show was a shining success. Not only that, I overcame a lifelong fear. I did it. I walked onto the stage. For the first time, I was more than the woman behind the scenes. Putting the show ahead of my own fears, I did what needed to be done.
While allowing myself to be vulnerable, I kicked ass. At that second, I realize that sometimes it takes the first to do the second.
“To Shana!” Shelly yells above the roar of the other relieved models.
The backstage dressing room fills with applause.
“To each of you,” I reply. “You did this, ladies. I’m so proud to have been a part.”
Chantilly motions me toward her but not before I have the chance to step out of the tall shoes. When I reach her, she wraps a long black robe over my shoulders. “Before you change, there’s someone who wants to talk to you.”
For only a second, I imagine the person I pretended to see in the front row. “Who?”
“Stephen is outside. He has news.”
Stepping from the room in my bare feet, I leave the roar of the models for the sound of the crowd beyond the stage.
As my eyes adjust to the dim hallway light, I’m wrapped in a bear hug. “You did it. I knew you would.”
“Do you have numbers?”
Stephen nods ecstatically. “Through the roof. And they’re talking about the late walk-on model. At first there were questions about Jenese.”
“We knew there would be. She’s Saks’s top model.”
“You, boss lady, are now the talk of the town. Everyone wants to know who wore the white negligee in the finale.”
“They can keep wondering. I did it. I’ll leave it to the professionals for the future.”
“You know,” he says, “if the promotion doesn’t go through, you could consider...” Stephen’s grin widens.
“If it doesn’t go through, it won’t have been for lack of trying.”
“You can say that again.”
Stephen and I both turn toward Vicky. Though her words sound encouraging, I can’t tell from her expression what she’s thinking.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Stephen volunteers as he heads away from the dressing room door back toward the auditorium.
“Stepping in as a model,” Vicky begins, “something that according to your résumé you’ve never before done, at one of the most important shows of the year, was your idea of making this work? Of thinking on your feet?”
I stand taller, remembering the exhilaration I felt only moments ago.
“Yes. The show had to go on. It did.”
“We have an entire backlist of models—experienced models.”
“And none of them would have known the show.” I’m about to say it wasn’t my idea, yet I supported it. Vicky was the one who’d given me the reins. In doing so, she supported my right to make the decision. The final product of the show is mine, no matter what she thinks now, no matter the consequences.
We both know that the show was essentially my interview for the new position. If she’s upset, Stephen and I are headed back to London. That’s her decision. Standing up for my show and my choices is my decision. I refuse to back down. “There wasn’t time to get someone else in here, much less brief that someone on the choreography. You’re right, I’ve never modeled before. I don’t plan to do it again. However, as you said, the designers paid to have every outfit in the finale. We all know that it’s during the finale that final sales orders are secured. I had a job to do.”
“Delegation is the sign of a good supervisor.”
“I agree,” I say, straightening my shoulders and recalling Stephen’s pep talk. “Delegation is essential. I delegated to Chantilly and Stephen. Stepping in when required is the evidence of a great leader. A true supervisor can do any job in their department. A true leader can’t and shouldn’t expect others to do something that she isn’t willing to do. And one other thing...” I’m on a roll. “...stepping onto that stage was more frightening than taking the show you gave me and turning it into my own. Changing the mediocre and boring into exciting is what I love. Actually taking a part in performing that new show in front of a live audience is and was terrifying. I know from this experience that from now on, I’ll also have a greater appreciation for the work those women...” I point toward the dressing room. “...do on that stage. It may look easy. It may look mundane. It isn’t. It is both scary and exhilarating, and if saving this show’s ass loses me the position, then at least I can walk away and go back to London knowing I did my best.”
Vicky stares at me for a moment until the tips of her lips slowly rise as she shakes her head. “I can say that this is the first time I’ve had anyone give me a piece of her mind wearing silk lingerie.”
I wiggle my toes on the cool cement. “I can see how being barefoot in a nightgown, I appear less fierce. But you gave me a job to—”
“No, Shana,” Vicky interrupts. “You appear plenty ferocious and determined. The powers that be are upset about Jenese. Her name brings people in. Yet...” She lifts a tablet. “...the sales numbers don’t lie. Orders are through the roof. Even Calvin Klein can’t be upset that Shelly wore the chemise instead of Jenese. Orders for those, as well as the Vera Wang you are now wearing under that robe are higher than last season. Actually, having it displayed in two different colors seems to have been a positive reinforcement on orders. It’s something we should consider in the future.
“Am I happy that things had to change? No.”
I don’t say a word.
“Am I impressed? Quite possibly.”
Inhaling, I ask, “Vicky, what about our return to London? Will the next ladies’ lingerie show be something I need to consider?”
“You have a job to do in London that’s still secure. You’ve shown your ability with juniors. Would you have decided to participate in a junior’s fashion show?”
I can hear the accusation in her tone. “Was I more comfortable walking out in front of hundreds of people in a long negligee or would I be more comfortable in a prom dress or maybe a miniskirt and half top?” When she doesn’t respond, I go on. “I’ve never been faced with the reality of participating onstage or disappointing investors. For the record, I’d do whatever needed to be done to make the project a success. Not just for me or even for Saks but for the women backstage who have worked their asses off over the last two weeks.”
I feel the tears well and prickle the back of my eyes, yet I keep my steely expression unchanged. I guess at the very least, my little stunt didn’t cause me to lose juniors. For that I should be relieved.
Vicky nods. “When we asked you here, it was for a month. The show was part of it. That part is done. For the next two weeks we’ll see how you can manage at corporate, and take my advice...”
I wait.
“Wear something else to the office on Monday.”
My jaw feels the pressure of my clenching, but before I can come up with a non-bitchy response, she turns and walks away.
Shit!
As the click of her shoes against the cold floor fades into the distance, I lean against the cinderblock wall and allow everything to sink in—the truth hits me. The show I’ve obsessed over is complete. All the work. All the preparation. Everything is done.
It isn’t though. Now our trial run continues as Stephen and I have a two-week working interview at corporate. It’s where I used to work. Different floor. Different department, but the address begins the same: Saks Fifth Avenue on Fifth Avenue.
Suddenly, I’m exhausted. The adrenaline rush from the show is history as the repercussions of our conversation loom in the future. Part of me wants to go to the hotel, climb into the large king-sized bed, call for room service, and keep the real world away until Monday. Pulling myself away from the wall, I turn toward the dressing room door when I hear the slow applause.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
As I turn, my gaze meets Stephen’s coming toward me. Instead of speaking, I lean into him. I know this isn’t appropriate coworker behavior, but right now, I need my best friend more than my assistant.
“You told her,” he says softly as my cheek falls against his shoulder, and he wraps me in a supportive hug.
I nod against the roughness of his suit coat as some of the tears break loose and spill down my cheeks as I fight to get the next breath.
Stephen holds my shoulders out to arm’s length. “Ms. Price, you kicked ass out there. You hold your head high.”
“What about your deposit?”
The tips of his lips kick upward. “We still have two weeks. I don’t know what stick is up her ass, but the numbers are still climbing. The fashion blogs are touting the amazing show, the choreography, the designs, and the newest unknown face in modeling.”
I close my eyes as more tears drip from my false eyelashes.
“Stop that. We’re meeting the infamous Kimbra and going out and celebrating. This is a night to party.”
“I was thinking a bottle of wine, a long bath, and maybe falling into a deep sleep.”
“No!” Stephen proclaims. “There will be no room service tonight. We are in New York, and don’t forget, I get to meet my new best friend tonight.”
I let out a long sigh. “How could I forget? I was so excited to see Kimbra, but now...”
His head slowly moves from side to side. “No. Now, it’s time to party. I love what you’re wearing, but do you think maybe it might get a little chilly?”
“It’s okay,” I say with a renewed smile. “I have on nipple tape. No one will know.”
Letting go of my shoulders, Stephen lifts a hand in the air. “Boss lady, sometimes it’s just TMI!”
“If I can’t talk to my gay best friend about nipple tape, who can I talk to about it?”
“First, I think there are some things better left unsaid. Then again...” His eyes widen. “...we’re going to see Kimbra. Maybe we can get the scoop on her sexy brother-in-law and things like nipple tape could be left to discovery.”
I squeeze his bicep. “Thank you. Thank you for being you and always making me smile. I’m sorry if I lost you your deposit.”
“Nothing that happened today was solely your decision. I was one hundred percent behind you going onstage. You nailed it, and not in the Pinterest nailed it kind of way. No regrets. I’ll admit, with your natural grace, I was a little nervous.”
This makes me laugh. “I was more than a little nervous. But I did as you said. I walked onstage and imagined that one person.”
“And it worked?”
“Well, I didn’t fall on my ass.”
Walking back into the dressing room to change, I’m a mix of thoughts and emotions. Despite Vicky’s less than enthusiastic review, I accomplished a successful lingerie show. I did it—not alone, but with the help of everyone involved. It’s then I see Chantilly.
“Hey,” I whisper, causing her to turn my direction. “Stephen and I are meeting someone later. Would you like to join us and celebrate?”
She looks up from the tablet in her hands. “Celebrate...um, the numbers are really good.”
I try to see what she’s reading, but from the angle I can’t. “Chantilly, is everything all right?”
Her lip disappears under her teeth for only a moment before she smiles. “Thanks.”
“For?”
“I had more fun on this show than any in a long time. I think the way you and Stephen changed things up was great.”
Why do I feel there’s a but coming in her sentence?
I wait.
When she doesn’t go on, I ask again about drinks. “We’re going to the Martini Club on Houston. Come on by if you’d like. Drinks are on me.”