Page 34 of Something Cheeky

Zoe’s left eye twitched at Greg’s pronunciation. Instead of attempting to say it the way she and Derek had, he made the names rhyme like inTammyandCammy. Why didn’t Derek correct him?

“I hope he can make it to our meet and greet with everyone next week.”

“We invited the entire board.” Greg pointed to Zoe then Derek. “Want something to drink?”

“I’m good,” Derek replied and shifted in his chair, probably due to nervousness and not because it was trying to kill him. Zoe was envious that he didn’t have to worry about things like that but also mad that all the furniture in the room seemed geared for people whose bodies were smaller than hers.

Zoe shook her head. She couldn’t drink anything while compressed in this chair. Plus, she was too anxious to consume anything. Her fingers cramped from the death grip she had on her portfolio. This wasn’t college and she wasn’t being graded. This was a collaborative project.

“Madison, can you get us some water? Coffee for me, please,” Greg barked into the handset from the phone on his desk. “Water is on the way.”

“Thanks,” Derek said quietly.

Zoe could barely recognize the man sitting beside her. Derekwas a different person with Greg. Where was the funny, confident man she’d been talking to?

“I want to make something clear before we start,” continued the artistic director. “This is Derek’s show. I’m only here to make sure this production goes smoothly. To be the liaison between you and the board and producers.”

“I appreciate the support,” said Derek.

“We’re only meeting today because it’s my job to keep them updated on the progress, since we’re investing so much of our resources into this.”

“My designs are going to blow away the audience,” Zoe added before subdued Derek could give another generic response.

“The board has nothing to worry about.” Derek sat up straighter, as if buoyed by her confidence. “Zoe has nailed my vision. Show him.”

He nudged her arm. Zoe set her portfolio on Greg’s desk and unzipped it. She’d stayed late at her boutique finishing up her sketches after Derek and Th?o had left to work on the script.

“These are preliminary sketches for the five main characters: T?m, Câm, their Stepmother, the Emperor, and the God. And here’s two examples of how the ensemble will look. They won’t all be dressed alike, but they’ll have coordinating colors and silhouettes.”

“They remind me of backup dancers.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going for.” Zoe clasped her hands in her lap, pleased that he understood her concept.

“T?m has a lot of costumes.” Greg shuffled through several pages.

“She’s Cinderella, after all. Audiences will want to see her transformations. We need the wow factor for her.” One of her favorite parts of the Vietnamese version was how T?m changed into a tree, a bird, even a persimmon.

“As long as you’re able to stay in budget.” Greg tapped hersketches. “I’ve already stretched our board members’ wallets for this. It’ll be hard to ask for more.”

“We’re meeting with the costume shop manager after this to go over logistics and the budget,” Derek said.

“I’ve done more with less.” Zoe looked directly into Greg’s annoyingly clear blue eyes. She refused to give him any reasons to think she wasn’t qualified for this job. Her imposter syndrome didn’t need another person on its cheer squad.

Shockingly, Greg didn’t have a response, but he tossed her a look that asked her to elaborate.

“I opened up my lingerie boutique with only credit cards and a small loan from my parents. We were profitable in eighteen months. Believe me when I tell you I can design the best costumes you’ve ever seen and stay within budget.” Zoe wanted to stand up to reiterate her point, but the awkwardness of extricating herself from the chair would have undermined her words.

“Well, Derek, seems like you’ve got a smart businesswoman here,” Greg finally said.

“She’s her own person, Greg. She’s in high demand and we’re lucky to have her on the team,” Derek replied in a firm tone. “You know this story wouldn’t exist without Zoe.”

“Yeah, of course.” Greg’s head bobbed. “One more thing: These designs feel a little too folksy. I thought you were modernizing the fairy tale, not making it look more exotic.”

“Exotic?!” Zoe whipped her head up from her drawings. She tried to keep her tone even and steady. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

She’d heard that term used to describe herself too many times. People who fetishized Asian women used it as a compliment when they hit on her. Others used it as an insult, as if she didn’t belong.

“Oh, I mean, it looks too much like a fantasy novel and not arock musical. We want audiences to be able to relate to our heroine, T?m.”

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