Fashion Faux Paw (2 page)

Ellie knew the competition was garnering a lot of attention in the fashion industry. Thirty-five hopefuls had submitted designs based on their idea of what a typical modern woman might wear while at work or out on the town. Four finalists were chosen to compete by the CFDA, the Council of Fashion Designers of America, and they and this contest were the culmination of Fashion Week.

She had first heard about it from Patti Fallgrave, one of her clients. As one of the models asked to strut the catwalk, Patti had an in with the committee, and she’d finagled a great job for her dog-walker friend once she learned canines were involved in one of the fashion shows. Ellie was now in charge of the models’ dogs, and would watch over them while their owners were fitted, accessorized, dressed, and had their hair and makeup done.

And for the final day, it was her responsibility to see to it that the dogs in her care were outfitted from head to tail in creations made by each designer to match their owners’ outfit. Whichever pair wowed the committee and Nola Morgan Design would win the prize.

As she entered the room, she scanned the mass of drinking straws with heads and noted that most of the women appeared to walk, talk, and act untouchable as they went about their business for opening day. Those who were the tallest had to be the models, especially since they were the ones who looked as if they hadn’t eaten in a decade.

And the rest? She’d bet her last dime that most of the hairstylists, makeup artists, designers, and runners participating in the show were on the same lettuce leaf and one cracker a day diet.

“Geez. Ya think anybody in this crowd knows how to swallow more than a single piece of kibble at a sitting?”
Rudy asked.

She smiled down at him, her voice low. “We’ll talk about it later. For now, let’s just find our spot and stay out of trouble.”

“Hey, trouble is our middle name. We live for trouble. In fact, we’re trouble experts. We—”

She ignored his rambling and jerked on his lead for good measure. The security guard they’d passed on the way in had told her he had no idea where the canines were being kept, but she was welcome to find the area herself. From the amount of activity taking place in this room, she doubted anyone could help her locate the dog pens, which meant she and her boy had to check it out on their own.

After studying the mob of serious fashionistas, Ellie glanced at her work clothes. Her job for the next few days was all dog, so she’d dressed in preparation for poop stains, pee stains, food stains, puke stains, and anything else a furry, four-legged friend might have a paw in creating.

She wore a peach-colored sweater in a washable fabric, with no designer label, and Skechers Kinetix Response shoes, perfect for walking her usual ten-mile-per-day route. Her special touch for the event was her Calvin Klein Ultimate Skinny jeans, which she’d found on a half-price markdown rack. Her best friend, Viv, had insisted it was the least she should wear to work the world’s biggest fashion event, and she’d grudgingly agreed.

“’Scuse me,” a voice said as someone pushed past her with an overloaded clothing rack.

She darted out of the way and bumped into a girl carrying a stack of shoe boxes. The top box hit the ground and Ellie bent to pick it up. Repacking the four-inch, snakeskin Ferragamo heels, she took note of the size and gave herself a mental high five. The model who owned this shoe wore a ten, a full size larger than her. If she got really depressed about her size-twelve Calvins, she’d go barefoot and show off one of her best features: her shapely feet and their freshly pedicured toes.

She set the shoe box on top of the pile, and the person behind the cardboard mountain mumbled a thank-you and stumbled on through the crowd.

“Ellie! Hey, Ellie! I’m over here.”

Raising her head, she eventually spotted Patti Fallgrave waving at her from across the room. At six feet tall, the supermodel was easy to find in a normal crowd, but it wasn’t so simple locating her in this group of towering pencil figures.

Ellie edged through the bustling room, dodging worker-bees and half-naked women standing on podiums, waiting to be clothed. “I’m exhausted just watching all that’s going on,” she said when she reached her dog-walking client. “Is it always like this?”

Patti cradled Cheech—one of two Chihuahua brothers Ellie serviced—in her left arm and clasped Ellie’s elbow in her free hand. “This?” She laughed. “It’s nothing compared to showtime. Just get in sync with the vibes. And be careful of Rudy. Most of the people working this scene love animals, but they’re not used to having them underfoot. That’s why they hired you.”

They dodged another clothes trolley, sidled behind a group of mirrored tables and chairs where two models sat while hairstylists teased and sprayed, and stopped at an open area where a stretchy metal gate formed an eight-foot-diameter pen. “This is the best I could set up for you,” the supermodel said.

Sitting down on one of three chairs wedged between a water cooler and a long table filled with fruit, veggies, protein bars, and high-energy drinks, Patti pointed to a corner. “This is just one of several snack tables set up throughout the show. And around that corner is a patch of fake grass, where the dogs can do their business if there’s an emergency. After that is a door to the outside, so you can come and go with your charges as needed.”

Ellie took a seat and heaved a breath. Resting her tote bag on a knee, she peered at the shelf under the table, half-filled with more food and drinks. “And I guess I can store my stuff down there?”

“Absolutely. In fact, you should probably keep an eye on all of it, because there’s no security guard at this end. I’d make sure my cash and credit cards were tucked in my pocket instead of in the bag, in case someone stopped by and started digging. If you ask, they’ll tell you they’re looking through their bag, but it could be yours.”

Ellie shook her head. “They can look in my bag all they want, but the only thing they’ll find is canine gear. I brought gourmet biscuits, extra leashes, folding water bowls, a couple of old throws, and anything else I thought the dogs might need that their owners would forget.”

“Perfect. And guess what?” Patti raised an expertly arched brow. “I got you a runner. Kitty’s around here somewhere and she can’t wait to be your assistant.”

Ellie smothered a smile. She had an assistant named Kitty and they were herding a group of dogs? There had to be a joke in there somewhere.

“And the models and their babies?”

“They’ll be here soon. The designers are already on-site, of course, but they have yet to see the dogs in person. All they know is the breed.”

“Do you have that list I asked for? With the names of the designers, and the models and their dogs?”

Patti pulled a small spiral pad from her alligator bag and Ellie had to grin. It looked just like the kind her boyfriend, Sam, carried when he was on a case. In fact, it was exactly what she’d used in July, when she and Viv had run into a murder in the Hamptons.

“Here you go,” she said, passing her the tablet. “Janice wrote down the details. I hope it’s what you were looking for.”

“Your sister did a great job. It’s exactly what I wanted,” said Ellie, flipping through the pages. “So, what should I do now?”

Patti handed her Cheech, checked her watch, and tucked her own bag under the table. “Since there are usually three or four shows going on at the same time, most of the girls are modeling for other designers until it’s time for the NMD walk. For instance, I have a fitting for a Vena Cava evening gown; then I’m scheduled to show three outfits for another up-and-comer, so I have to run.”

Patti stood. “I guess your first job would be to keep my baby happy and wait for the mob to arrive. His travel bed is in my bag. Just get ready to meet some huge personalities while you wait for the models to drop off their dogs, and the designers to show up. If you’re into people-watching, this is the place to be.”

When she sauntered away with her shiny dark brown hair swinging down her slender back, there was no doubt in Ellie’s mind that her client was a supermodel. Patti commanded attention, even when she wore a tank top, faded jeans, and red leather ankle boots.

“Too bad a doll like Patti’s wastin’ her time on that hairball,”
Rudy groused, giving the Chihuahua the fish eye.
“I still say somebody should report him and his brother to INS.”

“Oh, stop.” Ellie kissed Cheech’s tiny nose, then placed him gently in the pen and dug his doggie bed out of Patti’s bag. “Cheech and Chong are not illegal immigrants. They’re bona fide residents of this country, and even if they weren’t, it’s none of your business.”

“I’m just sayin’—”

“Too much. Now let’s people-watch, like Patti suggested.”

“How about you let me sit up there with you? The less time I gotta spend down here with the hairless wonder, the better.”

She patted the chair next to her and trained her eyes on the passersby, while Rudy bolted into position and sat at attention. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw two famous faces. “Look, there’s Christian Siriano walking with Michael Kors.” She watched the men as they raced past, talking quietly. “Viv will die when I tell her who was here.”

Just then, a tall, attractive man arrived on the scene, along with a beautifully dressed older woman. Behind them strode two assistants, each carrying a huge box. “I’m Jeffery King,” the man said, grabbing Ellie’s hand. “And this is Nola McKay.” He nodded toward his companion. “We have gifts for the models and designers from Nola Morgan Design.” He flashed a bright smile. “And you, too, if you’re Ellie Engleman.”

“That’s me,” she said, matching his grin. She then shook the woman’s hand. “Ms. McKay, it’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to work your show.”

“We’re happy to have you. Now if you don’t mind, I have a ton of things to take care of.” She nodded at the assistants, who were unloading and lining up baskets covered in colored plastic wrap onto the table. “I’ll let Jeffery tell you what this is all about.”

Giving a wave, she left the scene, and Jeffery took over.

“These are gift baskets, or swag bags, as we call them. You’re in charge of them until my sister gets here, so watch over them carefully. The swag in each basket adds up to about five thousand retail, and every one is tagged for its owner because the items inside were targeted directly for them.” He searched the line and picked up a basket wrapped in pale green plastic. “Patti Fallgrave handpicked the items in yours, so speak to her if you’re not happy with your loot.”

Ellie held the basket to her chest. “Thanks, and I’ll be sure to take care of these. Will you be around or—”

A tiny woman with blond spiky hair and a huge smile rushed over, clasped Ellie’s hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Kitty King, and I’m so sorry I’m late.” She gasped for breath. “I’m your assistant for the next four days.”

Two hours later, Ellie finally had the time to study her runner, who was no more than five feet tall and looked to be just out of high school. So far, the diminutive girl had worked her butt off, welcoming models, collecting their dogs, kowtowing to designers, and running errands for whoever needed her. She’d even held a one-sided conversation with Rudy, who had found an out-of-the-way spot under the table and made it his own.

In short, she’d been a breath of fresh air in the middle of high fashion chaos.

Because it was near noon, things had quieted down, so Ellie asked Kitty to sit with her next to the water cooler. “You seem to know everyone,” she said. “Have you worked in this industry long?”

“I’ve been an assistant for the past three years while I studied at Parsons School for Design. My brother—”

“The man who delivered the baskets?”

“Right. When he finally got his big break with NMD, the company sponsoring this event, I got a break, too. He’s their new Director of Promotions, so he’s my boss.”

The information had Ellie recalculating Kitty’s age. “Do you mind if I ask you another personal question?”

“You want to know how old I am, right?”

Pleased to see that Kitty was smiling, she said, “Sorry. You must get that a lot.”

“At least once a week, and I don’t mind.” When Rudy crawled out from under the table and jumped in her lap, Kitty ruffled his ears. “I mean, I’ll probably be happy that I have this baby face in another twenty years or so.” She ran a hand through her blond hair. “I’ll be twenty-five on my next birthday.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. And Rudy seems to like you, too, which is a good sign, considering he doesn’t cuddle up to just anyone.”

Her yorkiepoo gave a groan of contentment under Kitty’s gentle hand.
“This chick is too much.”

Unaware of Rudy’s positive comment, Kitty said, “Your boy’s a cutie, but I’m into all dogs. What about you?” Then she giggled. “Oh, gosh, that was a totally dumb thing to say. Of course you are. I mean, you make your living working with dogs, so you must love them, right?”

“Dogs are the center of my life,” Ellie answered, hoping her sincerity showed. “When I rescued Rudy, he rescued me, and he’s become my best four-legged friend. I also walk some of the greatest canines in this city. It’s a treat being here with little guys, because they’re my favorite size.”

“Mine, too,” Kitty said, scratching Rudy under his chin. “But my building is a no-go on pets. As soon as my designs make money, I’m going to move to a place that will let me have a dog.” She heaved a sigh, leaned back in her chair, and surveyed the people still rushing past. “We may be here all night, even though the designers are supposed to be finished with their first piece by four. The initial runway walk is scheduled to close the day at five, but with everyone jockeying for Karen Hood to do their hair and Eduardo to do their makeup, it’ll be a miracle if they make it on time.”

Ellie’d been hoping to meet someone besides Patti who had an inside track on the fashion business—someone who could fill her in on industry gossip and secrets—and it sounded as if Kitty would be able to do just that. “I guess you know quite a bit about this contest? What it took for the designers to get here and all?”