Some Like It Haute: A Humorous Fashion Mystery (Style & Error Book 4) Read Free Page B

so we could do a walk through, and that was costing us money. We couldn’t do anything without the shoes.”
    “So the models were there late. Who else?” Eddie asked. In the background, the vital sign monitor beeped like the Atari videogame I’d gotten for Christmas 1981.
    “The interns and assistants, a few hair and makeup people.”
    “What about other artists who rent space in the building?” Eddie pressed.
    “They were gone for the night.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “The last one to leave was an artist. He complained to Tiny about the noise before he left.”
    I strained to speak. “What about the photographer, Clive Barrington. Was he still there?” The effort of speaking made me cough.
    Amanda averted her eyes. In that split second I recognized the look. It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t appreciation. It wasn’t sympathy. It was pity.
    “Clive, Amanda. Was he there?” I asked again, this time with more conviction.
    “I don’t know if he was there or not. He said he wanted to get a few pictures of the models walking the runway, but I don’t think he knew we’d keep him waiting for hours.”
    “Who does he report to?” I asked.
    “Nobody. He comes and goes as he pleases. When he started, he made a point of telling us he needed unlimited access if he was going to capture my story. Tiny agreed to give him full access, as long as she got picture approval before anybody else saw them. That was her demand. That we see the photos before any of them went public.”
    “Was there anyone else that you remember?” Eddie asked Amanda. “Or you?” he asked me.
    I looked at Amanda, not knowing if she was going to return the eye contact. She didn’t. She stared at her hands in her lap and fidgeted with her jewelry. If I hadn’t noticed a slight movement at her temple, I might not have recognized that she was clenching and unclenching her teeth.
    “I would have to think about it,” I said. “Right now it seems like everyone I saw had some legitimate reason for being there. Do you agree, Amanda?”
    She nodded her head. Something buzzed in her red crocodile handbag. We all watched as she fished it out and looked at the display. She hit a button that stopped the sound and tossed it back inside, then looked up to find us all looking at her.
    “It’s not important,” she said.
    Her handbag buzzed again. She ignored it, but the buzzing continued. After several buzzes, text message alerts, and vibrations, Eddie stated the obvious.
    “Someone seems to disagree with you.”
    She stood and gathered her coat. “I need to get back to Warehouse Five. There’s a lot to do before the show.” She walked to the door and then stopped and turned back around. “I should have known something like this would happen.” Then she left.
    * * *
    Breakup Rule #2: Don’t be seen as a victim. I’d been hired to help Amanda at Nick’s request, and I’d gotten attacked. It was her runway debut, her big show, her production. I’d only shown up that first day to honor my commitment and make sure that nothing outside of positive things could be said about my character when she chose to speak about me to Nick. Now, I was unmade-up, with hospital hair and paper pajamas. There was no way she could keep this story from him. Seeing as how I was at the center of the drama—through no fault of my own—there was a good chance Nick would see things the way Amanda would paint them: with me at the epicenter. I’d become nothing more than an inconvenience to the designer’s carefully scheduled timetables.
    I waited for the door to shut and then turned to Eddie. “You have to get me out of here. It’s going to take me longer than usual to get ready but there’s no way I’m going to miss her show.”
    “Are you nuts?” he asked.
    “Don’t do this. We both know I’m going to her show. We both know you’re going to help me. Go get a nurse and find out how I get out of here.”
    “Dude, you can try to talk me into helping you, and