The Fate of the Muse - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,17
managed to squeak by with enough classes to graduate. Some last minute tutoring, courtesy of Cruz and Megan, had made it possible for her to pass the exit exam. The way they had both taken her under their collective wings was really moving, and as Ethan had noticed at the prom, the change in her was absolutely phenomenal.
The next morning she sat nervously beside me as I drove to San Francisco, the back of my Rover stuffed full of Cruz’s things in bags and boxes. He followed behind us in Evie’s silver Jag, eager to start his new life in San Francisco.
“I’m gonna miss hanging out with Cruz,” Shayla sighed wistfully.
“You’ll just have to hang out with him in the city,” I replied playfully.
“What if this modeling thing doesn’t work out?” she said, “I could be stuck in Aptos my whole life.” She shuddered at the thought, as if it would be a fate worse than death. Funny, I realized, spending a quiet life there with Ethan was exactly what I was hoping for.
“You can do it,” I told her, “You just need to be confident.”
“That’s easier said than done!” she wailed.
“Then act confident.”
“I know, I know, but I’m so totally nervous! I get all sweaty everytime I even think about walking in front of some agent dude.”
“Shayla, just fake it ’till you make it,” I said, “Everyone gets nervous.”
We pulled into Evie’s parking garage and were immediately greeted by Boris. His smile widened when he saw Shayla, and he rushed to open her door. He helped us unload the boxes as Cruz pulled up alongside us.
“Evie expects you,” he said, turning to nod at Cruz, who was lugging a couple of overstuffed garment bags around the corner, “Velcome to the building.”
“Thanks,” Cruz sounded relieved at the acknowledgement, for Boris could be extremely intimidating. We piled Cruz’s things into the elevator and squeezed in behind the load. When the door finally opened on the top floor, Evie was standing in the hallway waiting, platinum hair smoothed into the perfect French twist, looking chic in a knit Chanel suit.
“Darlings!” she cried, opening her arms wide for hugs. It occurred to me that she was similar to Lorelei in the consistent enthusiasm of her greetings, but that was about the only thing she had in common with the unsophisticated mermaid. She led the way to my apartment and opened the door for us, winking at me as we passed.
“Cruz, let’s put your sewing stuff in the studio,” I said, knowing that Evie had already worked her magic, transforming it from a painter’s studio to an exclusive designer’s atelier.
“OH MY GOD!” Cruz screeched when he rounded the corner.
It was an impressive sight. There were a couple of long work tables holding shiny new industrial sewing machines, a knitting machine and serger. A colorful wall display held hundreds of bobbins of thread, and there were shelves stocked with enough bolts of fabric, exotic yarns and trims to fill a good sized store. Several dress forms stood guard next to a small privacy screen and an elegant chaise lounge, all of it backstopped by a spectacular view of the golden gate bridge. It was everything Cruz could have possibly wanted, and I could already envision him hard at work here. I watched him inspect everything with pleasure.
“You gave up your art studio,” he gasped, overcome with emotion, “And… and, just look at all this…stuff…” He wiped his eyes, turning towards Evie, “I don’t know what to say…”
Evie was beaming with joy as she embraced him, “Just keep up the good work… We’re looking forward to seeing all the fabulous things you’ll dream up in here!”
We put the rest of Cruz’s things into the guest room and peeled him out of his new workshop to head across the hall to Evie’s. She’d arranged for a photographer, hairstylist and makeup artist to get some more tests shots of Shayla, and was expecting her agent friend within a few hours.
Evie took Shayla’s arm, “Let’s get your hair and makeup done before Jacques shows up.”
“Marina too!” added Cruz, handing me a garment bag with a pleading look, “I need some pictures of you in your prom gown and the mermaid dress for my portfolio, okay?”
“I guess so,” I said, following them out.
The rest of the afternoon flew by with a flurry of primping, preening and picture taking. Evie’s lavishly decorated apartment was full of ideal backdrops for Cruz’s beautiful designs, and he turned out to be a stern taskmaster,