by Randi Rigby
He grinned. “Almost.”
“Well, I guess the good news is I’m officially now all out of secrets.”
“I hope not.” Drew picked through a quick series of chords that started out flamboyant and charged and ended up flickering away into nothing. “I kind of like these confessional sessions of ours, Grace.”
My eyes flew to his.
He shrugged. “It slipped out the other night when you were giving me an impression of something your mom would say. And I have a confession of my own to make. I pulled up her obituary online when I got home. ‘Grace Kelly McCoy’ was listed under survived by her daughter.”
“Right. Well, I was terribly uncoordinated as a little girl. At some point I even think my parents had me checked for an inner ear imbalance. Grace just left the door wide open for much mocking.”
“Private school kids can be so mean.”
“What? Did you Google me too?” As if I hadn’t done the very same thing to him.
“Yeah. I did. Am I in trouble?”
“That depends. What did you find out?”
“You don’t have a boyfriend.”
I blushed. “That you know of.”
Drew was staring at me intently. “Do you?”
I couldn’t hold his gaze. “I went to a fairly small high school. There were only three boys there taller than me. And they all had really short girlfriends. Why is that? Short girls can date anyone. It’s so unfair.”
“I agree. Tall people should only date other tall people—much less neck strain.” He tugged on my knee looking particularly winsome. “We’re tall people.”
I hadn’t had a lot of practice with flirting but I summoned my very best To Catch a Thief Grace Kelly, shimmering and coy in diamonds. “I know.”
Aunt Shae stopped by the office Wednesday morning, whirling in on a cloud of Chanel and a click of kitten heels, a frown the only thing marring her immaculately made up face. “Kel McCoy, tell me your father inadvertently hit you on the head with a two by four, rendering you concussed or with amnesia.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“You’ve known since Monday that you were going to be in the back-to-school fashion show and I only found out about it twenty minutes ago. From your uncle, of all people. What were you thinking? You weren’t. You’ve absolutely left us no time.”
“For what?”
In her younger years Shae competed in a series of beauty pageants. She was runner-up to Miss Texas, and still looked like she was being judged whenever she walked around in a swimsuit. Now, she was deftly pulling business cards out of her purse and spreading them out in front of me like tarot cards. “Call Kirstie Adderson. Immediately. She’s the CEO of Adderson Modeling Management and a dear friend. I spoke to her on the drive over and told her all about you, and she agreed—as a personal favor to me—to help get you ready.”
“I don’t think it’s really a big deal, Aunt Shae. We’re just basically wearing outfits supplied by different stores in the mall so you’ll want to buy them and maybe have some idea of what’s in for fall.”
“It’s an opportunity Kel, and one you need to make the most of. I’ve always thought with a little training you’d make an incredible model. You look more and more like your mother every day. The underpinnings were always there; you just needed time to grow into all those McCoy inches and get comfortable in your own skin. Kirstie can help, honey. Just promise me you’ll give it everything you’ve got so the option is there for you if you decide you want it. That’s all I’m saying.”
By the time Shae left I not only had an appointment with Kirstie, I had another to get my highlights “touched up” (was there such a thing as too blonde in this state?) and I was making time around my lunch hours to get waxed, a manicure and pedicure, and to have my “flawless skin” detoxified. She also left me with a large, pink (her signature color) water bottle and strict instructions, “Hydrate. You need to drink at LEAST three of these a day. Five would be better.”
After work that night I drove to the Adderson’s home and changed into the swimsuit and heels Kirstie asked me to bring. She was sitting straight-backed and perched in a chair in a dance studio in the back of her house, her glossy dark hair up in an elegant chignon, and even though she was wearing capris and a sleeveless shirt and wedge sandals, she looked like royalty. “Just walk toward me, Kel.”
I did. Apparently, wrong. In my defense, gliding around in a swimsuit and heels was not something I’d ever done before. She had me do it again and again, her head cocked, lips pursed, her Windex blue eyes laser focused in on dissecting my every movement.
“Okay.” Kirstie joined me at the barre where she delivered her verdict. “The good news is you haven’t picked up too many bad habits. You have amazing posture for someone your age and height, and a high level of fitness—both are incredibly helpful and put us miles ahead of the game. Shae said you’ve done ballet for several years. It shows. There’s a fluidity to your movement most girls are missing, but that also means we’re going to be battling a tendency to walk with your feet turned out. You also look at the ground when you walk. A lot. The bad news? We don’t have much time to fix things. We’ll need to stay focused if we’re going to pull this off.”
She put on music. “Ready? Watch me first and then we’ll go together, side by side, in front of the mirror. Look ahead and fix on a point. Now let me see some confidence. Sell me on this.” She shook her head as I started over. “Your body is moving with confidence Kel, but if I don’t see it in your eyes I don’t believe it. Tell me you’re someone worth looking at.”
I tried again. And again. We worked at walking and stopping and turning and stairs for almost two hours.
“Yes. Much better. Tilt your chin down just a bit. Perfect. Remember Kel, confidence is key. And for you that means practicing as much as you can for as long as you can stand it. We’re cramming muscle memory here so it will kick in when your nerves do.”
Given I only had two days left and my lunch hours had all been filled up with appointments, on top of practicing walking confidently any time I was already on my feet, I sacrificed part of my early morning running time—the one thing that kept me sane. Instead of staring at the ground I forced myself to look straight ahead, which only resulted in a couple of stumbles. One involved a small dog I didn’t even see until it was too late. To be fair, the dog was off his leash, which was against park rules, but I still felt bad.
“Hey Wonder Dog,” I reprimanded Charlie, after apologizing profusely to the owner. “You’re supposed to save me from this sort of thing.”
Charlie lifted his little leg and dampened a nearby patch of grass he’d been sniffing. Obviously, he felt terrible.
A text from Drew pinged in. How goes the supermodeling?
I quickly responded. How much water do you drink in a day?
I don’t know. Some. Enough. Why?
Triple it and then we’ll talk.
Poor baby. Can I come see you tonight?
I don’t know. I’m walking. And I should probably practice my guitar at some point. I’m trying to impress my teacher with how good I’m getting.
You don’t need to—trust me. You’re a natural. And he’s easily impressed. I have something I want to show you.
That sounded intriguing. Do you want to come to dinner? I’m making fish tacos.
Neither of those things deterred him. He texted me back that he could be over as early as 6:00.
We couldn’t fit three long-legged people at our little kitchen table so we ate outside at the picnic table set up by our grill. Because Mom always insisted on having a bouquet of fresh cut flowers out whenever we had company over, I stopped and picked some up on my way home from work. Dad said nothing when I arranged them in a vase and placed them at the end of the table but he softened considerably and was on his best behavior when Drew arrived.
“Kel tells me you play football?” Dad said politely, passing Drew the cantaloupe.
“Wide receiver. Yes,
sir.” He took a spoonful and handed the bowl to me.
“We’re hoping to catch a few of your games once your season gets underway.”
“Thanks, I’d like that. This should be a pretty good year for us. Our O-line is finally coming together. Our quarterback might actually get to stay on his feet for a change.”
“The green salsa is pretty mild—the mango, muy caliente. Pick your poison.” I offered both. Drew took the mango.
Uncle Bryce and Justin drove up unexpectedly as we started eating. I looked over at Dad suspiciously with a raised eyebrow. He just shrugged.
“Oh good, looks like we’re just in time for dinner.” Uncle Bryce hopped out of his truck with his perennial grin. “Nice to see you again, McDreamy. Bunch up, Blondie. I almost didn’t recognize you. You might want to steer clear of Shae for a while. You’re starting to look Nordic.” He scooted himself in next to me. Drew and I moved over. Justin dropped in next to Dad. “What’s this?” Uncle Bryce was pointing at my food. “I didn’t think supermodels ate?”
“I’m not a supermodel. Were you serious about wanting dinner? I can grab a couple more plates.”
“We just ate. Your windows came in, Lucas. Justin and I loaded them in the back of the truck because it was empty—and who knows when that will happen again. Do you want us to just put them up in the rooms for you?”
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll come help,” Dad said, tucking into his taco.
“No rush. You coming to watch our girl on the catwalk Saturday?” Uncle Bryce asked, leaning forward so he could see Drew better.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“See? Did you hear that? He wouldn’t miss it. I don’t know what you’re talking about, little brother. I think this young man’s just fine. He is too, good enough for Kel.” He winked at me and popped a piece of cantaloupe off my plate into his mouth.
“Do you want us to save you a seat with the family, Drew?” Justin asked. “Gran will be there the minute they start putting out front row chairs. She’s already roped a few of us into stretching out and covering until everyone arrives.”
“Think carefully before you commit,” I warned him. “The McCoys are without mercy. And you’re fresh meat.”
“Our friend Chris wanted to come too—we’ll help you save,” Drew said.
I was suddenly getting nervous. I’d better forego running entirely tomorrow morning so I could practice walking confidently some more.
“Hey, the more the merrier.” Uncle Bryce got to his feet. “Come on Justin, let’s leave these fine folks to finish up their dinner in peace. See you later Squirt, McDreamy. Lucas, we’ll start upstairs.”
Drew helped Dad while I cleaned up from dinner. I answered his knock at the motorhome door with Charlie, furiously wagging his tail, tucked under my arm. “Consider this a blanket apology for my family.” I made a face and placed a hand over my heart. “I’m so sorry for everything they’ve put you through—and will put you through.”
“I like them,” Drew grinned, stepping inside the motorhome and scratching Charlie’s ears. “Your family seems pretty tight.”
“We are. That’s not the problem.” I put Charlie down. “Would you like something to drink? Options haven’t changed much since the last time you were here. They just might be served with less drama.”
“I’m good, thanks.” He’d pulled his phone out of his back pocket and was scrolling through his messages. “Got something I want to show you.”
“What is it?” He handed me his phone and I could tell he was battling to contain his excitement.
The Dotted T was sponsoring an amateur musician night the last Saturday of summer vacation. He’d been given a performance slot. “What?! Drew, that’s amazing!” Impulsively, I threw my arms around him and gave him a big hug—the full McCoy. He smelled really good. It was hard to let go, but I didn’t want to be weird so I did. After a bit. “I didn’t even know this was something you were chasing. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
He shook his head. “It’s still all kind of new. I wasn’t sure if it would go anywhere when I auditioned. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“I am? Aw, thanks. I feel special.” I was teasing him but I really did. “What’ll you sing?”
“It’s a five song set, so maybe a few covers. But I’ve also been working on a couple of things of my own that I might want to try out.”
“This is so wild. We need to pack the place. What kind of promotion will you get?”
“For me? None. I think they just promote the event in general.”
“Well, Drew Jarrod,” I sidled up to him. “This is your lucky day.”
“Yeah?” He placed his arms loosely around my waist, drawing me in with that killer smile of his, his eyes half-lidded and liquid—the boy could smolder. “It kinda feels like that.”
It was my turn to blush, but I wouldn’t be deterred. “I just happen to be a whiz at graphic art. It’s my thing. Don’t laugh; it’s true. I was president of the yearbook committee at my old school. I can make promos for you. We can use them to light up our socials—really get the word out.”
His hands were slowly making their way up my back and into my hair. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course. What are friends for?”
“Friends?” His voice had deepened; his lazy Texas drawl seemed to be slowing time down so that I was hanging on his every word. “Is that what we are, Kel?” The air between us had grown electric and heavy. He was looking at my lips and slowly bringing his closer to mine, waiting, asking. And it was too late to worry if I had any residual cilantro stuck in my teeth from dinner or if my breath smelt like fish. I met him in the middle and we kissed. And it was everything I dreamed a first kiss would be.
“I think,” he whispered against my skin as he brushed his lips once more against mine and nudged my nose. “I’m going to really like being your friend.” He exhaled softly and leaned his forehead against mine. I was grateful he was still holding me in his arms because I was feeling a bit weak-kneed and melty inside.
Suddenly, there was a sharp rap at the door, startling us both. We sprang apart. “Five second warning and then I’m coming in!” Uncle Bryce yelled from outside. He threw open the door and leaped up the stairs. Behind him Justin was grinning and shaking his head. “Just wanted to say good-bye. Also, your dad asked me to check on you. You know, in case there was any making out going on.” He looked at my reddening face with some interest. “Thank heavens that’s not the case.” He rolled his eyes. “Do me a favor, will you McDreamy? Just be careful with her. Kel’s our little girl—a lot of really big McCoy men will be seriously up in your grill if you hurt her. Come here.” Uncle Bryce grabbed Drew and hugged him, pounding him on the back like he did everyone in the family. “I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other. Good thing you’re so ugly.”
“See you Saturday, Squirt.” He squeezed me tight and tousled my hair as if I was still six. “You kids should probably call it a night. Supermodels need their beauty sleep. And I think your dad wanted to put in another good hour of work on the house, worry free.”
“Okay, we will.” I hugged Justin good-bye. And just like a tornado touching down and whirling off, they were gone. “You sure you still want to be my friend?” I said as we watched them drive away.
Drew snugged in close behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I relaxed into him. “More than ever.”
Friday morning I showed up ten minutes early to the makeshift runway they’d assembled in one of the conference rooms of a hotel in close proximity to the mall. I signed in and was given a name badge. A lot of tall (but sadly, still not as tall as me), long-legged girls were walking confidently around carrying their phones, wearing earbuds, and sipping from their water bottles—apparently Aunt Shae knew what she was talking about. I was having sixth grade Nutcracker flashbacks.
Ashley, who already looked slightly harassed and like she might have the beginnings of a tension h
eadache, got on the microphone and asked us all to please be seated so we could get started. She’d asked for some fairly detailed measurements over the phone—I had to get Maggie to help me with some of them—when I accepted the job. I now knew why; she’d already assigned us all outfits. I had twelve. A guy named Dustin took a picture of me in each one. Marta checked them for fit and made sure there was nothing that needed to be repaired or altered. She’d bagged all the accompanying accessories and placed them on the same hanger as the clothes they went with. She hung everything on a rack with my name on it, in the order that they’d be worn and the shoes were placed underneath them. Aliyah would be doing my hair and there were three different style changes she created that corresponded with the three different segments we were showing: Back to School, Game Night, and Homecoming. Stefan was doing my make-up in close quarters with Aliyah.
Preliminaries were brief. Ashley wanted to run through the entire show twice in the time we had remaining today and we only stopped to fix things in the first run-through. The second time she wanted it to be as close to the show the audience would see tomorrow as she could get it.
I’d never dressed and undressed so fast in my entire life nor had I needed any help with either past the age of three, but you quickly lost any sense of shyness because everyone was all business. My final outfit of the first two segments was planned to be the quickest switch because there was a hair and make-up change as well. I couldn’t tell if I was nervous or just filled with adrenaline trying to make sure I was where I needed to be when I was supposed to be there, but I don’t think my heart stopped racing through either run.
Don’t outwalk the music. Pick a point and fix on it. Chin slightly down, I tried to calmly remind myself as I stepped out onto the stage and headed down the runway. Backstage, chaos reigned. And then, finally, it was over.
“I want you here at 11:00 tomorrow—we’ll feed you lunch. If you have any food allergies, let Bev know on your way out.” Ashley sighed and then wearily handed her headset to her assistant.