Page 23 of Have To Be Mine

“Dash.” Annika was standing in front of me.

“I know,” I said. “I know. Look, just have everyone go through the boxes again. Slowly. Bikini tops are small. Maybe they’re stuck in a pocket.”

“A pocket?” Annika repeated. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking. You said you packed them and that they made it through customs. So that means they’re here somewhere. Unless someone stole them, which is highly unlikely, they’re here. We just need to find them.”

“You don’t think I searched?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m not saying that. I’m sure you moved heaven and earth looking for them. I’ll help you look. Where’s wardrobe?”

She pointed to the biggest tent. I spotted someone with a headset walking by. They looked like an assistant. Not my assistant but I was paying everyone here. Everyone was my assistant.

“You,” I called out.

The kid stopped and looked around. “Me?”

“Yes. Find craft services and bring me a coffee. And a Red Bull or something equivalent. And water.”

The kid looked like he was going to argue. Tell me it wasn’t his job or some shit.

“Now,” I added.

“Yes, sir.”

Annika scowled at me. “That was a producer.”

“Good, maybe he can produce some caffeine.”

8

KRISTA

The event was supposed to start in twenty minutes, and we were still missing half the damn collection.

I stood just outside the wardrobe tent and looked out at the water, trying to anchor myself in something that wasn’t complete chaos. The Athens Riviera stretched out in front of me with the most beautiful turquoise water I had ever seen. I had traveled all over the world, but I had never seen anything quite like this.

The sunlight was hitting the rocky shoreline just right to highlight the white sand that looked untouched, even though I knew damn well it had been groomed within an inch of its life. I had watched a team of three men rake the sand earlier.

It was stunning and exactly what the campaign needed. And it was completely useless without the actual bathing suits. I could see the vision. I could see the models walking along the shoreline, the fabric catching the light, the photographers capturing something effortless and aspirational. This was supposed to be the beginning. It was the teaser, the first look at the swimwear that would be launched soon. The thing that got people talking before Santorini in three weeks.

This was where the hype was supposed to start. Adrian had explained what the stakes were. I understood how important this was. I didn’t know shit about fashion and teasing and lighting, but when he explained it as the thing that could make or break the campaign, I got it. If the pre-launch didn’t go off, the whole campaign would stall before it even got off the ground. All that time, money, and effort would turn into a very public failure.

“Krista.”

I turned to find Annika clutching her clipboard like it might keep her from coming apart.

“We’ve checked everything,” she said. “Three times. They’re not here.”

“I know,” I said.

We had trashed the wardrobe tent. Dash had insisted every box be unpacked. I had personally unpacked several. And when he said there was a chance the tops could be missed, I thought he was joking. But when I found a pair of bottoms, I honestly thought it was just fabric scraps. They weren’t. The two itty-bitty triangles held together with a string were the bottoms.

No wonder the models were slightly bigger than sticks. My ass could never. I preferred to floss my teeth, not my lady bits. No thank you.

Behind me, the models were pacing in robes, hair and makeup half-finished, irritation creeping in. Everyone was tense. Dash had disappeared to deal with some rock situation. I didn’t know what it was but it wasn’t my immediate problem. Without tops, there was no shoot. And Adrian had made it very clear that there would be no topless shoots.

I had been on the phone trying to track down every last box, and now that I knew how small the suits were, I instructed the warehouse people to look for a shoebox. It was a joke. Kind of.