Page 2 of Kissing Danger

Don’t think about that.

Focus on the outfits.

The art.

The things I can control.

The runway was set up in a large showroom usually only dedicated to cars. Models walked from one end of the roomto the other and back, illuminated by spotlights as well as the ambient light filtering in through the large windows that took up an entire wall. The room had a very industrial feel, with concrete and steel everywhere. All the cars on display had been moved to one side of the runway while the audience sat in chairs on the other, so the guests watched each model walk past a backdrop of gleaming classic automobiles.

Some of the fashion designers featured at the event had chosen to ignore the location and presented outfits that showcased their own personal design, while some designers had taken obvious inspiration from the location and presented car-themed creations. One noteworthy designer had presented a series of outfits inspired by the movies in which each of the background cars had appeared.

I’d chosen none of these options, and while I didn’t think most people would get what my collection was supposed to represent, I was pleased to see that my designs at least didn’t look out of place.

Model after model took their turn on the runway until it was time for the last one. The ‘deconstructed’ outfit I’d slapped together in an hour. As the model stepped out onto the runway, I crossed my fingers and held my breath.

It didn’t move how I wanted. The long strips of cloth that would have made up the sleeves dragged along the floor. That wouldn’t have been a problem if the sleeves were attached to the rest of the garment for support, but tied directly to the model’s arms as they were, the model had no choice but to hold her arms steady and forcibly pull the fabric along. Every step looked like a battle fought and won.

However, all of the fabric stayed in place, and when the model finally finished her turn on the runway, she was still as dressed as when she’d started walking.

I breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. The whole showcase had been presented without any catastrophes or wardrobe malfunctions.

“What are you doing?” Kiki hissed at me. “Get out there and take your bow.”

I was so overcome with relief that I almost forgot. All of the models gathered into a single line to give the audience one last look at the collection all together, and I was meant to go out with them.

The spotlights were so bright, I could barely see the audience as I stepped out onto the runway. I walked out to the middle and stopped right in front of the Lotus submarine car from the James Bond movies and took a bow in the audience’s general direction. I couldn’t hear what the announcer was saying over the pounding of my own pulse in my ears, and I just hoped that my smile looked suave instead of manic.

Then, I was back behind the curtains, and it really was over. As the next designer prepared for their turn in the spotlight, I collapsed into a folding chair back in my prep area and stared blankly at the wall.

“Well,” Kiki said from where she stood beside me. “That could have gone worse.”

I mutely nodded my agreement.

She watched me for a moment. “Do you need a moment to process?”

I silently nodded again.

She sighed, though not in an annoyed way. More like the resignation of someone who was right when they would have preferred to be wrong.

“All right. You sit there and decompress. I’ll handle the wrap up and get everything put away. But you had better be back to functioning properly in time for the after party. You need to sweet talk the investors and make us some money. Try to land a contract. Maybe get hired by an important brand. You know, the whole reason why we’re here.”

Right. The banquet that always took place after these things was my least favorite yet the most important part of the night. The banquets I’d been to at smaller fashion shows were bad enough. At such a big event, I imagined it would be even worse.

Well, nothing to do but smile and act charming. I could do that. I didn’t even have to be sincere. Just show up and say the right things.

The rest of the fashion show wrapped up, and soon enough, I found myself in a banquet hall full of important people, holding a glass of champagne I didn’t actually like, and trying not to bump into anyone.

Small talk was one of my hard-won skills. It didn’t come naturally, but enough time spent talking to clients as I brought their visions to life had made it a necessary skill to learn. Once I knew what to talk about, I could manage, but I could never figure out where to start.

That was where Kiki came in handy. She stayed at my side during the event, pointing me toward the right people whilewhispering in my ear about who they were, why they were important, and what topics they were interested in.

Why couldn’t an artist just make art?

Why did I have to be a business and advertising expert as well, constantly marketing myself?

“All right, I think that went well,” Kiki announced after I’d made my first pass around the room and shook two dozen different hands. “There’s definitely some interest in your work. While I still don’t agree with your last piece, people seem to like your ‘deconstructed’ outfit, so good job there.”

I gave her an over-exaggerated bow. “I’m so glad Her Highness approves of this lowly peasant’s work.”

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