Page 110 of Play Book

“I’m nervous,” Stevie whispers, fanning her face as we wait for the start. She’s both starting and ending the show since this is her comeback, so there’s probably a little more pressure on her than the rest of us.

There had been no rehearsal—Alexa trusted us to wing it—and that’s what we’re going to do.

Personally, I love the mermaid style turquoise dress she put me in. It’s sophisticated but a little edgy, in a vibrant color that looks great on me. In my opinion, this dress epitomizes Alexa’s designs. She’s not the type of designer who’s going to put on a show featuring a dress made out of toilet paper or any other gimmick. Her clothes are meant to be elegant but unique, made specifically for certain people or events.

She has quite a few rock star clients, both male and female, and I love the way she can mix a lace-up leather bodice with satin or taffeta or some other traditional fabric that brings a look together.

It’s fun.

Maybe I can retire but only come out of retirement for Alexa.

I love her clothes, and her shows are exciting.

The lead singer of a platinum-selling rock band called Onyx Knight is here tonight, performing as we walk. Kingston Knight is gorgeous and enigmatic, with a rich, velvety voice that has sold millions of albums. He and Cheyenne had a thing once, but apparently had ended on good terms and now are chatting animatedly in the far corner as we wait for the signal that it’s time to line up.

“Are we ready, ladies?” Alexa calls out, clapping her hands. She turns to Kingston. “And gentleman.”

“Ready to rock, baby!” He gives her a thumb’s up.

“All right. The announcer is going to introduce Kingston,” Alexa says.

“And I’m going to introduce Alexa,” he says with a grin.

“And then I introduce all of you. Let’s line up. Magda has the order.”

It’s a little less organized than other fashion shows because it’s Alexa and this is her thing—she rarely succumbs to the norm with anything—but it’s also fun. The energy in the room is off the charts, and we can hear the audience start to clap and whistle when Kingston starts talking.

“Someone hold my hand,” Stevie gasps, her face suddenly pale.

“I’ve got you.” Bailey slides her hand into Stevie’s.

They smile at each other, and I watch Stevie visibly relax.

“You got this,” I say, rubbing Stevie’s shoulder.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Chey tells Stevie.

“And I’ll be behind you, Bailey,” I add. “If you stumble or panic, just give me a signal.”

“You guys are the best.” Bailey smiles shakily.

Then we’re walking, lights shining brightly, the music and Kingston’s voice filling the room as he sings one of the band’s biggest hits called “Break Your Promise.” It’s a fun, energetic song that matches the vibe of the show, and I’m able to relax as Stevie steps into the light—literally and figuratively.

A smile breaks out on her face as the audience starts to clap, and I see Harper and the guys from the team in the front row cheering for her.

Ivan stands up and whistles as Chey walks by and she blows him a kiss. To my surprise, when I get close to where Canyon is sitting, he gets up and lifts his arm, extending a rose in my direction.

His eyes shine with…appreciation? Love? Adoration?

I’m not quite sure, but I have a job to do, so I wink, grab the rose, and keep walking, doing a turn at the end of the runway and then heading toward the back.

I have two more dresses to wear, and then we’ll all come out on stage to present Alexa with flowers and champagne, thanking her for twenty-five years of clothing designs we love.

The rest of the show is a blur.

Clothing change.

Makeup touch-up.