work in progress and nibbled her fingernail. “I’m torn.”
Mid-sketch, Simon set down his stylus pen and looked up from his drawing tablet, a jumpsuit sketch destined for a video conference call with a New York store nicely taking shape on his laptop screen. “Oh, I like this one”—he nodded enthusiastically, the pitter-patter of cold rain on the windows filling his pause—“a lot!” He leaned over the work table, littered with pins, splayed scissors, and two nearly empty bottles of cola—Leia’s pick-me-up of choice. He scratched his beard. “Is this the dead stock you found in Reading?”
“No, the other place you told me about—in Nottingham? Feel it!” Leia handed him a piece and stuck her hands in the pockets of her old University of Pittsburgh hoodie. Paired with her favorite pair of faded boyfriend jeans and her chunky-soled combat boots, the cozy zip-up from her alma mater was the perfect outfit for a damp, blustery day. It also didn’t hurt that it kept Tarquin’s fading hickey a secret. Each day, the love bite paled a little more, along with her hopes of hearing from him again. “They had tons of it, no dyeing required.”
“It was already this color? That’s a time-saver.” Simon’s forehead creased as his thumb sailed along the fabric. “It’s great quality. Soft and light, will cling in all the right places. Shantelle will feel and look amazing in it.”
“Yeah, I totally lucked out. I showed it to her last night over FaceTime and she signed off on the color and heart-shaped neckline, but”—Leia’s hands burrowed farther into her hoodie’s pockets as her stomach let out a long, snarly growl—“I’m having second thoughts. This design feels…too safe, maybe? You only debut on the red carpet once. I think she should make more of a splash, be the actress everyone’s talking about.”
Simon set the fabric sample on the table and stood up, joining Leia in front of her rough design. He crossed his arms, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. “The deep neckline will draw lots of attention. Can Shantelle carry it off? What’s she like—is she shy or outgoing?”
“She’s quiet one on one, but get her to a party and she lights up like the Vegas strip.” Leia laughed, removing her hands from her hoodie. “She becomes another person. It’s kinda scary. Actresses, right?” She pulled out a pin and deepened the neckline. “Shantelle doesn’t usually wear anything low-cut, but her body is curvy and athletic, so beautiful. If anyone could pull this off…” She squinted at the fabric and stuck the pin in again.
Simon spun the form around, examining the back of the pinned garment. A panel of pink lace covered the upper back, offering a discreet glimpse of the mannequin’s ‘skin’ beneath. Leia had salvaged the intricate needlework from a damaged vintage dress and had it dyed to match the rest of Shantelle’s gown. Simon twirled the dress form again, admiring the elegant material accentuating the figure’s décolletage. “I’d go with your gut. Keep the plunging V.” He nodded. “Sexy but tasteful. Bit of boob tape on the day and she won’t feel like everything is on display.”
I’ve missed this, having someone to bounce ideas around with. Leia smiled as he returned to his chair. “That’s what I thought. Thanks!”
“Any time.” His eyes trailed down the draped cerise fabric as Leia fussed with it, a smoothing of a crease here, a pinch with a pin there. “I can’t get enough of that color. Really pops.” He picked up his ‘energizer juice’, a concoction of apple, orange, carrot, and ginger purchased from the café on the corner.
“That’s what sold me.” Leia swept her misbehaving hair off her forehead. Wild and temperamental, it kept falling into her face. She yanked a hair tie from her wrist and corralled her blonde locks. “I hope I have some left over. I’d love to make a skirt for myself.”
“If you have time.” He sipped slowly, savoring his healthy drink.
Huh? Leia twisted, her perky ponytail playing catch-up, landing on her shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Lowering his beverage, Simon pulled his chair closer to the table. “You might be swamped with orders after Shantelle slays in your gown. You know, like the Kate Middleton effect.”
“Oh, I’d gladly give up my skirt to have that problem!” Leia scooped up two smaller pieces of lace from the table. “If only, eh?”
“A boy can dream,” said Simon, picking up his stylus. He sailed it across his drawing pad, the flourish creating the