Shy Town Girls (15 page)

“
Is Olly—is Oliver home?” I
asked.

“
No,” she said.

“
Do you know where I can find
him?”

“
No.”

“
Okay then,” I crossed my arms.
“Maybe I should wait for him.”

“
Are you that Robbie chick?” she
asked.

“
Bobbie.”

“
Yeah, yeah, Olly mentioned you.”
She sounded amused.

Well, I’m amused, too, I thought, feeling seriously
grumpy and displeased by the turn of events. I mean, couldn’t he do
better than this? I knew Oliver was into the whole artsy,
hipster-chick thing with girls, but still, this one just didn’t
seem his type.

“
We hit it pretty hard last night,
and I think he lost his phone, or cracked it, or something,” she
said. “Oh wait, maybe that was my phone. I don’t know. You can wait
inside if you want. It’s cold as shit out here.”

I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs behind me,
and I turned to see Oliver carrying a brown bag and two
coffees.

“
Bobbie!” He looked startled to see
me, and a blush spread over his cheeks. “What’s up? Uh—Lottie,
Bobbie,” he said by way of introduction, nodding at each of us in
turn.

“
Yeah, I kinda figured it out,”
Lottie said.

“
Nice to meet you, Lottie. Olly, I
really need to talk to you.”

“
Okay. . .” He thought a moment.
“You should go back inside, Lot. Maybe put on some real clothes?
I’ll be in there in a minute.” Oliver took the girl by the
shoulders and turned her around, pushing her in through the door,
which he closed carefully behind her. He turned around and looked
at me. “Hi,” he offered.

“
Hey,” I said hesitantly. I felt
mortified. I had just walked in on Oliver with a morning-after
girl!

“
She’s um. . . that’s actually my
cousin, Lottie,” he said, and scratched his head. “That probably
looked really bad.”

“
Oliver, it’s
okay. You don’t have to lie about it. Not to me.”

“
No really, she’s my cousin. I
promise. She was going to school in Boston, but she dropped out,
and she doesn’t want to go home. She’s having a lot of problems, as
you can see from her hot mess of an appearance.”

“
Olly, I believe you,” I assured
him, with an off-hand shrug. No big deal. But inside I felt
incredibly relieved. Lottie, his cousin. Right. He had talked about
his cousin Lottie over the years, but I’d never met her before
today.

“
Okay then,” he sighed and relaxed
his shoulders. We stood there for a moment looking at each other.
“Coffee?” He bent down and picked up a steaming cup. “I’ve got
scones too.”

“
Oliver, the real reason I’m here
is--” I took a deep breath.

“
What?” I watched as his eyes lit
up. I swear he suddenly looked hopeful.

“
Hurricane Sandy.”

“
Huh?” He frowned.

“
Hurricane Sandy caused a million
flight delays, creating havoc with the Centennial. Long story
short, I desperately need a good photographer in order to make
points with Wolfe and make Ivy and Ella look like professional
models who know what they’re doing.”

“
Oh.”

“
Can you? Would you?” I put my hands
together, bending my knees, praying he’d say yes.

“
For the Centennial,” he said
flatly

I nodded in confirmation.

“
Runway or set shoot?”

“
Probably both, but I’m really not
sure yet. . .”

“
Okay. Let me change and grab my
equipment.”

“
You’re my hero!” I yelped.
Impulsively I grabbed him in a hug. He hugged me back, but just
briefly, stiffly; then he pushed me away.

I followed him into his flat. We climbed a flight of
stairs, and the room opened up into a large white loft. The white
walls were covered with giant blow-ups of his photos, and an
enormous old-fashioned clock hung on a brick wall above mahogany
shelves filled with hundreds of books. Two beautiful guitars were
mounted by a window with views of the city. The furniture was
leather, and the wood floors were strewn with sheepskin rugs.
Lottie was curled up in a chair, flipping through a magazine.

“
Want some coffee or vodka or
something?” she asked.

“
Oh, no thanks,” I said. “I’m uh. .
. working.” For a moment I actually considered recruiting Lottie,
adding her to my emergency stable of models, but then I thought
better of it.

I walked over to look at some Polaroid pictures
pinned on a board made of wine corks, and my heart did a flop to
see that half of them were photos of me. There was one of me in a
new white suit, just before I started my job at Fordham. I had felt
so excited and hopeful that day! There were prom pictures, like the
one of Oliver and me pretending to pick each other’s noses, and
another one of me sitting drunk in my prom dress crying because I
dropped cake on my dress. How I had loved that dress. Then there we
were, dancing at one of the many music festivals we’d attended
together. . .

“
Ready?” He snuck up behind me with
his camera bag around his shoulder.

“
Ready.”

We said goodbye to Lottie and started down the
stairs.

“
Careful out there,” she called. “I
heard there’s going to be a big storm.”

We made our grand entrance together through Fordham
Agencies’ big glass doors. “Oliver, good to see ya back, buddy!”
said one of the graphic designers as he cut past us, patting Oliver
on the shoulder.

“
Hi Olly,” squeaked one of the
secretaries.

“
Welcome back, Oliver,” purred a
half-naked model with long platinum hair.

He gave a nod and a smile to all. Most people would
be puffed up with ego at the attention he was getting lately, but
Oliver remained completely unaffected. He merely returned the warm
embrace the office seemed to give to him.

We went to the studio where racks of clothing awaited
the professional models who would never come.

“
Well,” I said out loud, looking
down at my phone. “That was Jen. She’s doing video. Ivy and Ella
are on their way. The car is dropping them off at the set. So. . .
it’s all coming together.”

Hair dresser and make-up artist Stefania popped her
head around the corner. She was wearing a black turtleneck, her
hair short like Twiggy, and purple lipstick.

“
Bobbie, we’re ready for you,” she
informed. “You need to be in for hair and make-up in the next
thirty minutes. I saved you a spot, and your outfit is hanging in
your office. I got you the cheetah jacket.”

“
Yep, thanks. One sec,” I
replied.

“
So, Bobbie,” said Olly, pointing
down the hall. “I’ll just—”

“
Yes, please, go! Thank you!” I blew
him a kiss and ran to my office. Lilly was talking on the phone,
sitting in my chair with her feet up on my desk.

She hopped up. “Sorry!”

“
Pretending to be an agent?” I
asked.

“
Ye-yeah.”

“
Keep your feet off my desk. What’s
the word?”

“
I contacted all the models you told
me to contact, and we’re pretty much able to get at least half of
them here in the next hour for hair and makeup.”

“
Pretty much able or
able?”

“
Able.”

“
Great,” I said. “Good job. Can you
list the names, please?”

“
Sure,” she sighed dramatically.
“Women: Ariel Truman, Danielle Munson, Alessandra Valentino. . .”
Lilly looked up at me.

“
Okay, great, Lilly. And how about
the men?” I asked, as I opened a drawer and grabbed my phone
charger.

“
Well, she said. “I don’t think
you’re going to like this.”

I knelt to plug the charger in under my desk. “I
won’t like what?”

Lilly sighed again. “All I’ve got so far is Chance
Brooks.”

I raised up too quickly, hitting my head on my desk.
Charlie. Dear God. “Excuse me,” I said. “Did you say Chance Brooks?
Wasn’t he already booked?”

“
Well, yes, but that was cancelled.
Anyway, he’s the only one I could get ahold of. I tried others, but
he was the only one available, at least so far!” When she saw my
expression, she cringed. I wanted to throw her out the
window.

“
I’m sorry,” she said.

It’s not her fault. It’s not her fault. I continued
to chant it to myself, hoping to lower my skyrocketing blood
pressure. “It’s okay, Lilly. Thank you. I’m going to make-up now. .
.”

After spending twenty-five minutes in hair and
make-up, I called a driver to escort Lilly and me over to the set
where they were shooting a 1970s rock theme on the roof of Vertigo
Sky Lounge. It was my job to make sure that everything was up to
Wolfe’s standards.

We pulled up at Vertigo Sky Lounge; I grabbed Lilly’s
hand and we ran in, jumping into the elevator that would take us to
the rooftop. I walked onto the set where one of my last-minute
makeup artists was putting the finishing touches on one of my
last-minute models.

“
Sewing kit!” I yelled to Lilly.
“Lilly?” I turned to see her flirting with one of the male models.
“Lilly!” I yelled to her. She ran over, rummaging through a bag
that seemed heavier than she was. I quickly stitched a rip in my
model’s costume, and we spent a total of thirty-three minutes at
the 1970s shoot. I texted our driver, and we were off to the next
stop, catching our breath in the car. Lilly studied the mini-bar,
picking up a little bottle of scotch.

“
Don’t even think about
it.”

“
Oh c’mon. You’re no fun,” she
pouted.

“
Lilly, we’re working, not playing,”
I reprimanded.

Lilly rolled her eyes. “I know. I was only
joking.”

We pulled up to our destination, a reinvented Union
Station in a warehouse: Chicago in the 1950s. I was excited to see
how this one had turned out because the 50s was my favorite era. I
was blown away by the incredible set the designers had created. The
models looked great, hanging out of the fake train. One of the
designers started yelling at a model, warning her not to pull on
the props. Turns out that model was Ivy. She was in the train with
Ella, and they were both clearly having a blast. They looked
fantastic, too. The makeup artist had transformed them into 50s
starlets.

Suddenly there was Oliver, walking toward me with his
easy stride.

“
Olly!” Ordinarily I would be
running up to him, giving him a hug. But for some reason, at that
moment, I held back. “Are you shooting all this?” I
asked.

“
Yup, I guess so,” he said humbly.
“This is my favorite set by far.”

“
Mine too.”

“
The models look great,” he said.
“Well, your roommates, anyway.”

I glanced over at the models. I tested my feelings as
my eyes found Charlie. He was acting pretty chummy with Alessandra,
his date from the gala. She was dressed in a vintage skirt and
blazer, with a beige leather briefcase and a hat she kept waving
from the window of the train. She looked phenomenal with deep red
lipstick in contrast with her pale skin. Charlie looked thinner
than usual and—could it be there were bags under his eyes?

I took a deep breath and walked over. “Everything
going okay here?”

Ivy and Ella waved and laughed; Charlie slid his arm
around Alessandra’s tiny waist.

“
All is well. Thanks, Bobbie,”
Alessandra said sweetly. “That’s a great coat, BTW.”

“
Thanks. I got it from a real 50s
pinup girl.” I winked at Ivy and Ella.

“
Really? How cool.”

“
So, roomies—thank you so much for
doing this!”

“
You owe us,” Ivy said. “I’ll take
my payment in a bottle of champagne. Make it two!” I walked closer
to the girls, almost wishing I could join them.

“
I’ve never been around so many
gorgeous guys,” Ella whispered. “Am I sweating?”

“
No, you look great. You both do!” I
said.

“
I always look great,” Ivy said a
little louder. “This guy knows what I’m talking about.” The male
model just looked at her, then cracked a smile.

“
She may have had few drinks before
we came here. Even Ivy gets nervous,” Ella said under her
breath.

“
Okay, well just keep an eye on
her,” I said to Ella. But from the looks of it, people were finding
Ivy rather entertaining. I just prayed Ivy wouldn’t drink too much
and embarrass herself and me.

I found Lilly at a large table piled with low-calorie
snacks and bottled water. Watching her gobble at least one of
everything on the table, I was tempted to pour the bottle of water
on her head. “On to the next shoot!” I yelled, grabbing her hand. I
waved goodbye to everyone on the set, trying to avoid looking at
Charlie.

“
Hey, Bobbie. Wait up!” I turned
around to see Oliver running towards me.

“
Do you want me to develop these
photos in the dark room, back at the agency?” he asked. “Or should
I use my own studio?”

“
It’s up to you,” I said. “But you
might as well use the agency’s equipment. . .”