I stand and give Dash a silent nod on my way to the elevator, my thoughts going a mile a minute. When she gets home, we really need to talk.
Chapter twenty-nine
Kendra
“Sorry, babe, but the weather service said a big storm is rolling in next week, so the whole shoot is getting moved up.”
Morty breaks the news with the delicacy of a sledgehammer, but I don’t pay him for tact.
“But tonight?! I have to leave for Bali tonight?”
Niko turns onto an empty side street while I try not to panic.
“And whose idea was it to shoot during the wet season, huh? There’s no chance they care that Thanksgiving is tomorrow, right?”
Morty sighs at the hopeful tone of my voice.
“You know they don’t, Kendra,” he says patiently. “Pierre is French, the shoot’s in Bali, and you’re the only model based in the US. I could push on this, but they may just replace you.”
“Shit,” I grumble, crushing my empty coffee cup in frustration.
Morty knows as well as I do I can’t afford to pass up this gig. I’m a household name, but I’m nearing the end of my shelf-life. This past Fashion Week made it painfully clear: the next phase of my career needs to be in place ASAP. I’ve secured a few sponsorships, but most of my plan relies on the success of Denise’s line. If it fails—
It’s not going to fail. We’ve got a solid business plan, backers for the first run of designs, the best tailors in the industry, and models already signed up to walk in the show. Itwillbe a success.
Even so, one last show to make sure my nest egg is appropriately fat couldn’t hurt.
Morty sends me the updated flight details, and Niko busts a U-turn to take us to Newark instead of home. Thank God I packed last night and my suitcase is already in the trunk, butdamn!Everything is thrown off now!
I break the news to my dad first.
“Hey, baby girl!”
“Hey Dad,” I sigh, defeated.
“Debbie is so excited for tomorrow,” he goes on, oblivious to my mood. “She even made an extra sweet potato pie just for you to take home since I told her it was your favorite.”
I drop my head into my hands.Damnit!
“Dad,” I start, not bothering to hide the disappointment in my voice, “I’m so sorry, but the shoot got bumped. I’m not leaving the day after tomorrow anymore.”
“Well, when are you leaving?”
I rub my eyes. I feel a migraine coming on.
“Right now?” I say through a wince.
“Right now?!” he booms. The line is suddenly muffled, like he’s holding the phone away from him and covering the receiver.
Was I looking forward to dinner tomorrow? Honestly, no. Debbie and I are still feeling each other out, and I don’t appreciate the added pressure of amandatoryfamily dinner. Dad’s been really pushing theone big happy familyangle this year. It’s ridiculous, considering Uncle Cordell’s been more of a dad when it counted.
Debbie’s bringing her two sons too, and all I know about Aaron and Matthew is that they have their mom’s dirty-blonde hair and hazel eyes, and they’re in college. Penn State, I think, but I’m not positive. I don’t even know their majors. It’s been three years since I met them!
It was the perfect setup for an unbearably awkward meal, but I still feel a pang of discomfort at letting Debbie down. She’s been taking an interest, keeping my dad in line, and she might surprise me just like Camila and her sister did. Well, shemight have, if I didn’t have to cancel again.
I pick at my cuticles waiting for my dad to get back on the phone.
“Debbie is upset—” Dad starts, but a struggle breaks out before he cancontinue.
