NOTE: Words marked with * will be translated at the end of the chapter.

STEPHANIE:

      "I'm ready to go whenever you are," I call out from the kitchen, as I pour some iced tea into my drink bottle. "And I already filled up your mug while I was heating up breakfast."

      "You are an absolute saint," Lylah informs me as she skids into the room and makes a grab for her coffee. "I was beginning to think I'd have to leave without it. And that probably wouldn't be fun for anybody."

      "Doesn't Ash keep coffee on-site?" I ask. "As much as he enjoys the stuff, you'd think it would be mandatory."

      "Yeah, but whether it's drinkable is always a crapshoot, depending on who gets there first. I've learned never to get a cup until I know for sure who made it. And he usually shows up with Starbucks anyway, so he never hits the coffeemaker 'til two or three batches in."

      I put the lid on my bottle, then grab the scones I fixed for our breakfast and follow her out to my SUV. Her car went into the shop yesterday, so I'm playing chauffeur today, which means that we'll grab lunch after she finishes with Ashley's shoot, then I'll drop her off at her next job, and Macy will pick her up when she gets done at the studio.

      She climbs into the passenger seat and buckles up, fitting her coffee mug into one of the cupholders. As I lay the scones on the console and fasten my belt, I inquire, "Do you want to program the GPS for me, or are you just gonna play co-pilot today?"

      "I'll just navigate," she replies, reaching for her scone. "With all of the random construction going on, the GPS would probably get confused." She pulls open the foil wrapping and pulls out her breakfast. "What kind did you make today?"

      "Ham and cheddar, with green onions. I figure this is a less messy alternative to a sandwich, since you can't drop the meat or cheese on your clothes when it's actually baked in. Could you go ahead and unwrap mine, while you're at it?"

      She pulls open the foil as I drive out onto the street, and once we're safely in the flow of traffic, I take it from her and have a bite. "They're better with a little bit of butter, but I didn't figure that would be a good idea in the car."

      "Nah, don't think I want grease stains on my shirt," she agrees, then snatching her phone off of her lap when it starts ringing. "Hey there, Nina! If Ash asked you to call me, tell him I'm on my way."

      She pauses for a couple of seconds, then makes a face. "Well, shit, that is not what I wanted to hear today. One of these days that little twit is gonna get on my last nerve, and I'm gonna make her pictures look like she's gained thirty pounds. Maybe forty. Take the next exit and make a left, Steph," she adds, gesturing at the sign hanging over the freeway.

      I follow her instructions as she continues her conversation, then puts her phone down a couple of minutes later, mumbling, "Damn, so much for a good day!"

      "What's the problem?" I inquire. "And who's Nina? I don't think I've heard you mention her before."

      "Nina is Dane's girlfriend, she's one of Ash's makeup artists," she explains, and then points ahead. "Not this coming light, but the next one, hang right, and APFI is two blocks up, on the left. But anyway, the problem is that she just called to let me know that my least-favorite model is working today's shoot."

      "Dumb, bitchy, or strung-out?"

      "Mostly bitchy, except for not having enough sense to know when to shut up" she replies. "You know the type; 'The world revolves around me. I'm better than everyone else because I'm hot, and if you don't give me my way, I'll make your life miserable.' That type."

      "Oh, you mean a Cyndee clone. Sounds positively charming." I see the sign on the front of the building as we get close, and whip into the parking lot as soon as I get a gap in traffic. "I'm surprised Ash lets her get away with that sort of shit."

      "Oh, she's smart enough not to do too much of it in front of him. And if he doesn't see it, then it's just someone else's word against hers, and nobody can prove anything, of course. So he basically gives everybody a warning, and if it doesn't stop, they get suspended for a session or two."

      I find a parking spot, and we take a couple of minutes to finish our food before she leads me into the building. We walk through the lobby, and as we get to the elevator, she texts Ash to let him know that we're here. He doesn't answer, but when the doors open, he's standing in the hall waiting for us. "Hey there, glad you could make it!" he greets me, draping an arm over my shoulders and giving me a squeeze. "Ready to see how the fashion business operates?"

      I return the hug, gesture to my faded-out jeans and Apocalyptica T-shirt, and reply, "Yeah, I suppose so. You two will probably have to explain a lot of it to me, though. As you can plainly see, this isn't exactly my area of expertise."

      Lylah excuses herself to go get set up, and Ash takes me on a tour of the building, explaining how they translate a drawing of a clothing item into a workable pattern, and showing me a couple of works in progress. As he leads me to the display area, where he sometimes has showings, I inquire, "So, you said something the other night about wanting to get your 'campaign' off the ground before somebody co-opted your idea. What do you have going on, anyway, if it's all right to ask?"

      "Of course it is," he reassures me, as he pauses in the hallway, pointing out a couple of people who are heading in the opposite direction. "I've talked to several people, and heard from a lot more on social media, who said that they loved the clothes, but didn't feel like we were actually thinking about them when we worked up the designs, so I'm launching an ad campaign that's going to showcase diversity. I've booked models of several different ethnicities and sizes, male and female, so now everyone can see that my designs are available to everybody."

      "Very cool! I have to admit, it gets a bit irritating sometimes when I'm looking for clothes, and half the brands either don't make anything bigger than a size ten or twelve, or if they do, it looks like they recycled some old ladies Victorian parlor settee for the fabric. But at least it's better now than when I was in high school."

      "How so?" he asks, as we walk into the showroom.

      "Because I was basically relegated to sweatpants, or occasionally jeans, and baggy shirts, most of which I got in the men's department. I weighed a hundred and eighty pounds by the time I was twelve, and was two hundred and ten by my fourteenth birthday," I recount. "So, needless to say, my social life was just about non-existent most of the time. The fat kid is usually pretty close to the bottom of the school popularity totem pole, y'know."

      I rake my fingers through my hair and sigh, admitting, "Actually, it wasn't much better in college, to be honest. Just because someone is supposedly an adult doesn't always keep them from being childish assholes. That's actually part of the reason I decided to go into the foreign-exchange program, because I figured that people who were actually taking their art that seriously might act a little more mature."

      "Did they?"

      "For the most part. And when they didn't, it was usually school-related, not personal. Stuff like trying to sabotage someone's project to keep them from getting a higher mark, or something like that."

      It seems like he's about to respond when his phone goes off, and he taps it to turn on the speaker, "Yeah, what's up?"

      "Dude, we've got a situation," Lylah's voice announces. "Devora's boyfriend just called. Apparently she was on her way here, and her car got hit by a mail truck. He said she's got a broken arm and a concussion, so she's out for today. Do you have somebody to cover her, or do you want Ren to juggle some of the pieces around?"

      He opens his mouth, like he's about to answer, but then snaps it closed again. A look crosses his face that I've seen a couple of times before in the studio, one that means that he's processing an idea. After a couple of seconds, he tells her, "I think I might have a solution. Tell him to leave everything alone unless I say otherwise. I'm gonna see if I can firm it up, and I'll call you back in a few."

      He ends the call, and I say, "That's too bad about your model, dude. I hope she's not hurt any worse than Lylah just said."

      "Yeah, me too, she's a nice girl. But since she's not going to be able to be here today, I was wondering if I might persuade you to do me a tiny little favor?"

      "Hey, I have no problem with helping out my friends, but I'm not sure what you think I could do for you in this situation," I reply. A lopsided grin crosses his face as he looks at me, and I'm totally blindsided by his answer.

      "Well, I was kind of hoping you might consider filling in for her," he informs me. "The two of you are pretty close to the same size, so you should probably fit into all of the pieces she's scheduled to wear. So, whaddya say, Steph?"

      I'm probably doing a credible impersonation of a beached fish right now, because I open and close my mouth several times before I can make anything come out. And when it does, it's just short of a squeak. "Ash, you can't be serious! I'm not a model, I wouldn't have a clue what to do!"

      "But everybody has to start somewhere," he cajoles me, giving me some of the best puppy eyes I've ever seen, almost as good as Jamie's. "And it's just some stills, you're not gonna have to work a catwalk or anything. You'll just have to do a few poses, and I'm sure Lylah can talk you through that. Please, Steph, it would really help me out."

      I relent, and say, "Okay, I'll give it a shot. But if it turns out horribly, don't say I didn't warn you."

      That brilliant smile of his lights up his face like the sun breaking through the clouds, then he clasps my face in his hands and kisses me on the forehead. "Thanks, you're a doll! I owe you big time! But I guess this means that the rest of the tour will have to wait, because we need to get you ready for your close-up."

      He leads me through the building until we get to a huge room filled with people, bustling like Victoria Station on a holiday weekend. Lylah is on the far side of the room adjusting her cameras, and several other people are crowded around a muscular Hispanic guy, who is handing them various articles of clothing. I see Dane running through the crowd like a headless chicken, with a comb in one hand and a can of hairspray in the other, grabbing people for touch-ups on their hair. 

      As I'm trying to take it all in, I see a small boy, maybe four or five years old, standing in one of the doorways, looking very distressed. I tap Ash on the shoulder, and point the kid out to him. "Is he supposed to be here?"

      He nods, and walks toward the boy, who has a mop of shiny black hair and big dark eyes, which are currently brimming over with tears. Crouching down, he says, "Hey there, Shane. You seem kind of upset, do you feel sick or something? Do you want me to have someone get your mom?"

      The boy shakes his head almost violently, and starts crying harder, "No, don't get Mommy, she'll get mad wif me! I losted it, but I didn't mean to!"

      I dig in my bag for a second, and manage to find a packet of tissues, which I hand to Ash. He pulls a few free of the plastic and dabs at the kid's face, asking, "What did you lose, buddy? If you tell me, maybe I can help you find it."

      He gulps his words out between sobs, saying, "Grandy and Baa-Baa* gived me a really neat new game for my birfday, so I could play wif it when I comes here wif Mommy. I was playing it, and Kelthey said I was being bonoxious and taked it away. She said she hided it somewhere, and if I wants it back I has to find it. But I can't, and everybody's gonna be mad wif me!"

      His jaw tightens up, and I instinctively take a step back, because I recognize the look on his face; it's the same one he had the morning I tried to warn him about Cyndee. "Oh, really?" he mutters, handing the tissues to the boy before turning to the guy handing out the clothes, calling out, "Ren! Where's Kelsey?"

      "She just headed out to the makeup room about a minute and a half ago to get her face done," the guy yells back.

      "Go get her, and tell her I want to talk to her fifteen minutes ago!"

      He turns back to us, and tells the boy, "Don't worry, you'll get your game back, and nobody's going to be mad at you."

      The kid tries to wipe his face a bit more, but misses several spots, so I gently take the tissues from him and say, "Why don't you let me help you with that, sweetie?"

      He looks at me as I finish mopping up his face, and asks, "Who's that, Mithter Ash?"

      "Oh, I forgot my manners, didn't I? This is my friend Stephanie. And Steph, this is my friend Shane."

      "H'lo, Steph'nie, it's nice to meet you," he says solemnly, holding out his hand.

      I shake his hand and reply, "It's nice to meet you too, Shane. Someone has taught you some lovely manners."

      He nods, his hair flopping into his eyes. "My Baa-Baa says that peoples will want to be my friend more if I can acts like a gemplemun, and be nice to thems."

      I look over at Ash, and say, "Is he one of your models, too? Because I bet the camera would love him."

      "No, I don't do a kids line, but if I ever do, he'll be at the top of my list. His mom works for me, and he tags along every now and then."

      Shane nods in agreement, and informs me, "Uh-huh, my mommy and Mith Nina puts the stuffs on that makes everybody pretty. She goed to school to learn how to do it good after Daddy goed bye-bye, and Mithter Ash gived her a job."

      Ash leans in close to my ear and explains, "I was actually acquainted with his mom several years ago, and I ran into her again when she was shadowing Nina for her licensing requirements. She's pretty good at what she does, and I kind of felt sorry for her, with her ex bailing out and leaving her to raise the little dude by herself, so I hired her."

      "By 'acquainted', do you mean ex-girlfriend, or...?"

      "Not even close," he says. "She's related to an old buddy of mine, I've never been involved with her like that."

      "Ren said you wanted to see me, Ash," a female voice cuts in. "Does that mean that you're gonna give me a solo feature this time?"

      We both turn around, and I'm pretty startled to recognize the busty brunette standing in front of us as Kelsey Rosen, who was one of the girls that got in trouble with the principal the last day I was at school here. And from the looks of things, she hasn't changed much.

      Her rather smug smile disappears when he snaps, "No, Kelsey, what it means is that I'd like to know where the hell you get off picking on a four-year-old kid? Seriously, how immature are you to take his toy away from him?"

      "Well, you're not the one who had to sit here and listen to that thing," she whines in response. "It's totally annoying, and I got tired of hearing it."

      "Too bad. Now, what you're going to do is go get it from wherever you put it, and bring it here."

      Her mouth drops open, and she squawks, "But I threw it in the trash! No way am I gonna go dig around in the garbage for that ridiculous annoying piece of junk, that's just gross!"

      He raises an eyebrow, not the least bit fazed by her little tantrum. "Okay, that's fine," he says, and her self-satisfied grin starts to reappear. But it quickly disappears when he adds, "If that's the way you want it, then change back into your own clothes and get out. I'm getting a little fed up with hearing everybody complain about your attitude, and I'm sure as hell not going to put up with a bully working for me, so you have precisely five minutes to have that toy in my hand, or you're done here. Do I make myself clear?" 

      At this point, everybody in the room is looking at him, and from the startled expressions, I get the feeling that this is somewhat out of the ordinary. Kelsey just gapes at him for several seconds, her mouth working until she finally manages to sputter, "But, Ash... That's..."

      He reaches out and takes hold of my arm, turning it so he can see my watch. "Four minutes, fifty seconds," he growls through his teeth. "So unless you're trying to become unemployed, I suggest you haul ass." 

      She turns around and sprints out of the room, and as she does, a lanky blond guy approaches and says, "Are you sure you want to do that, Ash? Her shots get a ton of views on the website."

      "That doesn't make up for the fact that she's an irritating little..." he pauses, finally remembering that Shane is standing between us. "Witch," he continues.

      "But we're already short a model for the shoot, we can't lose another and get this done by deadline," the guy persists, but holds his hands up in surrender when Ash glares at him.

      "No, we're not short, Stephanie here is going to fill in for Dev," Ash informs him, sort of gesturing between the two of us with one hand. "Steph, this is my talent coordinator, Ray Murphy. Ray, this is my friend Stephanie Logan. She's Macy's sister."

      "Macy? Oh, you mean Lylah's chick! Well, it's nice to meet you, Stephanie. Would I have seen any of your work before?"

      "Not unless you're into ceramics. I've never modeled anything before in my life, but when Ash here whips out the puppy-dog eyes it's kinda hard to say no."

      "You're definitely not the first person I've heard that from," he chuckles. Then he turns to Ash, cocking an eyebrow and inquiring, "You sure about this, man?"

      "If I wasn't, I wouldn't have asked her to do it," Ash replies. "So if it doesn't work, this one's totally on me, you don't need to worry about it."

      "Okay, you're the boss. But if she's gonna do this, we need to get her through hair and makeup PDQ, we're already getting down to the wire."

      Ash nods his acknowledgement of Ray's words, but before he can say anything, Kelsey comes stomping back, and extends her hand toward him. He reaches out and takes the small, handheld electronic game, turning it over in his hands and giving her an icy glare when it becomes clear that the toy has been cracked in several places, with an obvious heel mark in the screen, and there's no hope of repairing it. Shane sees this and whimpers, so I reach out and stroke his hair to try and keep him calm.

      Shooting a smile at the unhappy little boy, Ash says, "Don't worry about it, kiddo. As soon as we get done here I'll go to the store and get you another one, so nobody even has to know it got broken." 

      He then turns his eyes back to Kelsey and in a soft, frigidly calm tone, tells her, "And it'll be coming out of your pay, because as the saying goes, 'You break it, you buy it'. You can also consider this to be your final warning, Ms. Rosen. I'm tired of all the drama that seems to follow you around like it's your bloody damn shadow, and if I hear one more complaint about you, I'll bounce you out of here so fast you'll leave tracers. So go finish getting yourself ready, and try to at least pretend that you know how to act like a civilized adult. Now move!"

      She turns and practically runs out of the room, and Ash turns his attention back to Shane, inquiring, "Say, do you think you could help me out a little bit?"

      "I can try. What you wants me to do?"

      "Can you take Stephanie to see your mommy and Miss Nina, and tell them she's going to help us? She's never been here before, and I don't want her to get lost."

      "Sure, I can do that!" the boy agrees. He grasps my hand, and says, "Come on, Steph'nie, and I'll take you to Mommy. Then she can put the paints on you so you can gets your pitcher took. We needs to go this way."

      I walk down the hallway with him, and he pushes open a door, yelling, "Mommy, I bringed somebody for you to paint!"

      I hear a woman giggle, and respond, "Did you really? Who is it, Kosaru*?"

      "Her name is Steph'nie, and she's real nice," he informs her as he leads me into the room. "Mithter Ash asked me to bring her, so she don't get losed. She's his friend, and he says she's gonna help."

      As the door closes behind me, I see a short, red-haired woman, who looks like she's raided Cyndi Lauper's closet, putting makeup on Kelsey, who's still pouting. The redhead glances up and says, "Hey there, short stack!"

      "Hi, Mith Nina!" Shane replies. "I likes your hair, that's my faborite color."

      "Mine too, hon. That's why I made it this color." She then flashes me a grin and says, "Hi there, I'm Nina. We'll get you all dolled up here in just a second, and then we'll send you on to my boyfriend and let him play with your hair."

      "If you're talking about Dane, he's done that before," I tell her. "Lylah took me to him to get my hair done right after I moved here, and I've had him touch it up a couple of times since then."

      "Oh, good, then you're already used to him," she snickers. "So why don't you hang a left to that chair over there, and my assistant will get you fixed right up."

      I turn to follow her instructions, and figure out that this day is just full of surprises when I encounter the second familiar face of the day as Shane's mother moves toward me with a big smile, saying, "He did say Stephanie, right? I'm Midori, it's nice to meet you."

Translations for Japanese terms:

Baa-Baa: Grandma

Kosaru: Little monkey