Page 39 of Under the Shade of the Sycamore

Chapter Fifteen

I’d slept like shit that night.

Nightmares of being watched kept jarring me awake until I gave up and showered at five am just for something to do other than stare at the ceiling. If Mickey had seen us who else may have? Not that we’d been doing anything wrong. We’d shared one flaming kiss. That was it in terms of tawdry behavior. But, and this was a big but, would our nightly moments be seen as favoritism even though Claude had no outcome on the judging? Probably. So now I needed to get Claude alone today at some time to let him know that Mickey knew about us.

Ugh. What a mess. Damn the heart for being such an emotional organ.

I was pulling on some pants when someone pounded on our door at six sharp, startling Mickey out of a snore. He coughed and sputtered while I went to see what was up. Camilo stood in the hallway trying to give us a cheery smile but failing spectacularly.

“Good morning. You’re to be in the main lobby in twenty minutes,” he informed us before heading down the corridor to rouse the others.

“Thanks,” I whispered as I turned to look at Mickey. I closed the door before speaking to him. “We good?”

He rubbed at his eyes then gave me a sleepy smile. “We’re good. Not your fault you’re into shagging uptight old men with tiny dogs riding on their creaky hip.”

“You said you liked mature men.”

“Right, mature, not sour and decrepit,” he fired back jokingly. Mostly jokingly I assumed. At least he was joking.

A small bit of worry lifted from my shoulders. I truly did like Mickey. “Cool. Let’s get going.”

“When I get home I’m sleeping for a fucking week,” he muttered while dragging his scrawny backside into the bathroom for a fast shower.

Somehow my body clicked into autopilot which was good because my brain was buffering. There was no way Claude and I could keep meeting at midnight. If Mickey had spied us who was to say others wouldn’t? It had been risky, Claude and I had known that, but we’d assumed sitting outside smoking while harmlessly talking shop wouldn’t raise eyebrows. Or so we’d said aloud. Deep down in the dankest parts of our worry dungeons we suspected it might be risky. Otherwise we wouldn’t have been doing it on the sly. Christ. What a fucking muddle. Not spending that tiny amount of time with him would be terrible. Even the merest touch, our pinkies linked between us, had been a balm to my harried soul.

Still it had to stop. If I could find a way to get him alone today I’d tell him we so.

“You with us?” Mickey’s face popped into my view, startling me out of my trip down Panic Lane.

“Sorry, yeah just sleepy.” More like mentally sapped. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He waved a hand at his slapdash outfit. He looked better than me even if he were in warring textiles. Mixing patterns worked for him. For me? Yeah, not so much. I yanked my leather jacket on then fell in step with my roomie as we left our room.

The stairs were empty save for a few cleaning staff sweeping the steps as we jogged down to join the other three. We all looked like hammered shit. Camilo, who I just decided was a god, moved through the group of weary designers handing out coffee in take out cups. We all voted to nominate him for sainthood which made our wrangler grin. Three cameramen were with us, also clearly worn out, also drinking takeout coffee. Man the crew worked hard. No one really saw what went on backstage but it was always frantic. Xavier being a control freak ass didn’t help at all.

“I appreciate your nomination. Now into the taxi van. We have a tight schedule this morning and being late would be very, very rude,” Camilo announced, herding us along as one would a gaggle of geese, arms out to his side. Coffee in hand I climbed into a gray van, buckled up, and nursed my coffee in silence as we were whisked away to parts unknown.

Half asleep and half sick with worry I paid no attention to anything so was surprised when we were shunted out of our van then herded to a vast courtyard anchored by a glass-and-steel pyramid. It took my frazzled mind a second to latch onto the iconic sight of the Louvre Pyramid serving as a backdrop for Soline, Claude and Pamplemousse, and five dress forms draped in muslin.

“What is this?” I heard Mickey whisper beside my ear. I shrugged for I had not one clue. Crew members were all set up, cameras, sound, lighting. Cables ran everywhere. Xavier was watching us on his little screen, his teeth working his lower lip as we stood staring at the pyramid and dress dummies like a quintet of dolts.

“Bonjour, my little ducks!” Soline merrily called out. How anyone could be so exuberant and so stunning before seven in the morning was a mystery for the ages. Her dark hair was swept up into a lovely chignon, her makeup perfect, and her outfit a classic Chanel inspired fall look. Claude was equally gorgeous in a plum suit with four inch lapels, a bold vest of soft lilac, and his swoopy hair styled artfully. The dog on his hip wore a tiny quilted plum vest and a tiny lilac bowtie. “Welcome to the Louvre! As you know this museum houses some of the most famous works of art such as the Mona Lisa, Liberty Leading the People, and The Lacemaker just to name a few. The Louvre also has some of the most famous sculptures in the world.”

“Inside this amazing museum you can view the Venus De Milo, The Three Graces, and of course the Winged Victory of Samothrace,” Claude said then turned his attention from us to the dress forms for a beat before looking back at us. “Which leads us into our final assignment. Your Statue to Supermodel looks are to be inspired by the sculpture collection inside the Louvre. Do to work taking place inside you’ll be presented with a video walkthrough on tablets provided by Galan Digital, the premiere French manufactured tablet in all of Europe. After you view the statues you are then being given thirty minutes to sketch out your creations. You will take the mannequins wrapped in muslin and transform the static statue into a dynamic fashion look that creates life and movement on the runway. The design requirements are to include a sculptural element such a draping, pleating, and molding. Our judges will want to see elements of movements that come alive even though your mannequins are not living. Don’t be afraid to pull inspiration from the windswept draping of the Winged Victory or the elegance of the Venus De Milo but be sure to make the creation yours.”

Murmurs rose from the five of us as inspiration began to tickle our muses.

“Keep in mind that this final assignment will determine which of you five will move onto the final four,” Soline reminded us as a brisk wind whistled round the famed pyramid. Like she needed to remind us. “Be creative, be original, be yourselves! Now off you go tiny puddle ducks!”

She waved a hand. We all scattered to various spots to watch the walkthrough. My mind wanted to wander instead of focus on the beautiful statuary inside the Louvre. Time ticked away as I stared at my tablet, my head a thousand places but not on fashion. Finally, with ten minutes left, I forced myself to focus on the walkthrough playing for the third time. This time, thank all the gods of design, something took over. Something that was neither male nor female but a combination of both. Something inspired by the statue of Hermaphroditus. A gown that would mesh male and female to explore duality in sexuality.

The sketch was rough as hell when time was called but at least I had something to work with. We were loaded back into a taxi van then whisked to the academie for a long, long day of sewing. Every time the door on the workroom opened my heart skipped a beat. Claude didn’t appear until well after the caterers had brought us lunch. I’d eaten little. The combination of nerves over this last assignment and the knowledge that we’d been spotted made my gut acidic. Downing can after can of soda didn’t help but burping did get the gas out of my stomach. So I belched, cut, pinned, and began sewing.

At three in the afternoon Claude arrived, smiling softly at us as we called out a greeting.

“Kinder, please come with me,” he said, motioning for me to join him. I shot Mickey a worried look, laid down my shears, and did as told. “I’ll be back shortly to share my thoughts with you all. So far what I see I like.”

A collective sigh filled the room as Claude, myself, and a chubby woman with a handheld camera followed us through the halls, the school bustling with students going to classes or heading off to work or for a meal. I was taken to our lounge behind the backdrop to the catwalk, my gaze darting to Claude nervously. If this was the axe dropping on me over our moments under the sycamore I—