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Tess closed her eyes and sucked in a short breath. “I’m open to suggestions for the poster board props along the sides. What do you think?”
“Bacon?”
Okay, so Ben was a master of sarcasm. “Hmm… actually I like that idea. Let’s go with bacon.”
“Seriously?” He made a face, but after a few seconds he laughed. “It would be ironic.”
“And I love ironic. Let me check with the captain before we go to too much trouble, but I think the effect will be almost iconic. Good call.”
Ben smiled turning back to the large foam pigs torn down to basic concept.
Score one for the new girl.
She strolled over to where Upstart’s head sculptor showed Monique the start of the huge image of the governor that would be affixed to the float for the Krewe d’Etat’s royalty float. Never easy to win the trust of a group of artists. By definition, artists had their own ideas about what worked, and at a Mardi Gras float company they were often free to interpret many props in their own way, but Tess wanted this lead float for the satirical krewe to be spot on. She’d promised Mark Curtis it would have the proper “wow” factor the acerbic krewe demanded.
“Let’s build the nose bigger,” Monique said studying the work-in-progress. “It needs overemphasis to give the right effect.”
“I agree,” Tess said with a nod, sweeping her hand over the entire sculpture. “Makes it more comical… like the guy on Mad Magazine.”
Monique tossed her a smile. “Exactly.”
Score two for the new girl.
Yesterday Monique had asked Tess to attend a meeting with the Krewe of Cleopatra and they had contracted five of the company’s thirty rental floats. Tess had worked on some designs for the company that would meet their theme of “Take it to the Dance Floor” but also be versatile for several other krewes that would be looking to rent. As of yesterday, Monique hadn’t altered the sketches.
Maybe Monique would trust Tess’s visions soon… rather than merely tugging her along for liquid lunches with krewe fat cats.
“Mommy!” the shriek came from their left.
Graham’s daughter. Tess had seen her once from afar and hadn’t engaged her yet, hoping she could forget every aspect about the man.
Tess watched as a rounded little body collided with Monique, causing her to stumble in the too-high-for-the warehouse stilettos.
“Emily,” Monique admonished, trying to gain her footing. Louie, the head sculptor who’d been passing by, pressed a hand against the woman’s back and kept her from falling.
“A spider!” the child cried, burying her head against her mother’s thighs.
“A spider?” Monique asked, prying the little girl off her. “All this over a little spider? Emily, Momma is working, honey.”
The little girl kept her eyes shut and refused to let go of her mother’s leg. In fact, she restrengthened her grip and held on for dear life. “It was really big and mean-looking. It had hair on its legs like a tarantula. I’m not going back in there.”
“Emily, let go. I’m going to fall,” Monique said, pushing against the little girl’s shoulder.
“It’s probably just a wood spider,” Tess said, rather unhelpfully.
Emily’s eyes opened and they were the exact bright blue of her father’s. Damn.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Tess managed a smile, wishing the child didn’t look so much like her father. “I’m Tess. I’m new here.”
Loosening her hold, Emily tilted her head like an inquisitive puppy. “I like your watch.”
“Thanks,” Tess said, looking down at the Cookie Monster watch Gigi had bought her as a joke. Turns out, it was the watch she chose most often over the Rolex her father had given her last Christmas. “I’m a big fan of cookies.”
“Me, too.” The little girl smiled, finally unwinding from her mother’s leg, seemingly forgetting about the child-eating spider in the next room.
Monique ignored them both, choosing to tap on her phone.
