the interview with Entertainment Weekly. Maybe that would do it. Maybe enthusiasm for his designs from a major publication would turn his mood around.
Her second goal today was to find more jobs to apply for, because this clearly was not going to be her meal ticket.
And the third goal . . . well, she didn’t know what the third goal was, exactly, other than she was going to be at the dog park, come hell or high water.
Since Victor refused to talk or get off the couch, Carly made some calls and scoured the job sites until it was time for the phone call with Entertainment Weekly. When she told him it was time, he wouldn’t look at her.
“Come on, Victor, please,” Carly said. “I worked so hard to get you this interview.”
With a heavy sigh, Victor hauled himself up off the couch and joined her at the worktable so they could Skype the reporter.
Kristie Anderson was a cheery blonde with heavy eye makeup and a sunny smile. She seemed genuinely thrilled to meet Victor Allen and gushed about the red-carpet design he’d done for the actress Taryn Parker. Victor was polite and responsive. He said he got into fashion at a very early age, fascinated by the ladies that attended a church in his neighborhood. They wore lots of pastels and creative hats. He said his mother had taught him to sew. He said he attended an arts high school and learned the basics of design there, and was self-taught after that, studying the great designers.
Carly was thrilled. This interview was going better than she possibly could have hoped, given his recent attitude.
And then Kristie said, “Your red-carpet look was really spectacular. I read that Taryn Parker said it was the most comfortable dress she’d ever worn. I thought it was one of the most flattering dresses she’s ever worn. What inspired you for that red carpet and what did you think of the outcome?”
Victor pressed his lips together and stared at the screen. He ran his hand over the top of his head then said, “What inspired me was a paycheck. What I thought of the outcome? Stupid and lame. Frivolous.”
“Whoa!” Carly said, and laughed. “Victor is kidding, Kristie—”
“I’m being real with you,” Victor said, and looked at Carly. “Look, I know that disappoints you. You think I’m not disappointed in myself? But when I look back, all I can see is someone who has been inspired by a paycheck instead of art. I need to be inspired by art.” And with that, he stood up and walked out of sight of the camera.
Carly looked at Kristie. Kristie was staring back, wide-eyed with surprise and a bit of delight. “Wow. Is someone having a bad day?”
“Can I call you back in a few minutes?” Carly asked.
“Sure!” Kristie said. She was grinning, as if she was thoroughly enjoying the story she’d just stumbled into.
Unfortunately, there was no talking to Victor. He told Carly he’d thought a lot about it, about what was wrong with him, why he couldn’t create, and he didn’t want to talk about it. Carly told him he was making art, that every piece he sewed was art, but Victor didn’t want to hear it. He said if she was going to “run her mouth,” she could leave. Carly was going to run her mouth, so she left.
She and Baxter sat on a bench outside and she called Kristie back. Kristie took her call, but it was clear she was not going to leave out a single detail in her story. “I hear the pressure can really get to these young designers once they reach fame.”
Oh really? Did you hear that, Kristie? “Victor is working really hard for the New Designer Showcase, and it’s a lot of stress. As you can imagine, there is a lot of interest in him, and these interviews are added pressure. You know, the artist likes to create and doesn’t want to waste time talking about it.”
“Uh-huh,” Christie said. “Well, thanks, Carly, for setting this up!” she chirped, and hung up the phone.
“Damn it damn it damn it,” Carly groaned. She fell back against the bench.
Baxter hoisted his front paws onto the bench and licked her arm, then laid his head in her lap. She sighed and bent over to hug him. “You always know the right thing to say. Who’s a good dog? You’re the best dog, Baxter.”
* * *
The day had turned overcast, and the air was damp and