Sam took a triangle of toast and mopped up the remaining egg yolk from his plate. “How much weight are you trying to put on?”
“At least twenty-five pounds,” Arlena said quietly, not looking up from her plate.
“Twenty-five pounds?” Sam asked. “You’re going to look great.”
“We’ll see,” Arlena said skeptically.
“What’s the part again?” Sam asked.
“Well, if I even get the part, I’ll be playing a music teacher from Indiana who ends up getting a group of her students to Carnegie Hall for a competition.”
“And you have to put on weight for that?” Sam asked, leaning his back against his stool and stretching his arm behind Arlena’s chair.
“It’s based on a true story. The woman looks like me, kind of, but more full-figured. My agent thinks I’ll have a better shot if I can show I’m able to change physically.”
“You’re doing a Raging Bull,” Penelope said, still leafing through the binder, reminding herself to pick up some of the suggested groceries on the list.
“I’m going for Monster,” Arlena said, eating another bite of toast. She’d almost cleaned her plate.
“No, you’re more like Bridget Jones,” Sam said. “You’re not mean enough for Monster.”
“Oh yeah? Force me to eat greasy breakfasts every day for a month and you’ll see how much of a monster I can be.” Arlena pushed her plate away, just a few scraps of toast lying in a puddle of egg yolk remaining.
Sam pulled Arlena off of her stool and into his lap, hugging her tightly. “It doesn’t matter what size you are. To me, you are perfect.” He kissed her sweetly on the cheek. Arlena hugged him back, her mood lightening.
“Are you coming with us tonight?” Arlena asked a couple hours later as Penelope came through the back door into the kitchen. She had just gotten back from a run, her cheeks red and her shirt damp with sweat under her light jacket.
“What’s tonight again?” she asked as she pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
Arlena flipped through a few envelopes. The vanilla protein shake Penelope had mixed for her before she left sweated on the countertop, a blue straw pointed towards her face.
“Max’s thing. The fashion show in Chelsea. You’re not working, are you?”
“No, we’re off this weekend, not due back until Monday. This new job is making me so tired, I forgot about tonight. For some reason I thought the show was next weekend.”
Arlena pulled a shiny black card with an ornate letter S embossed in the center from their stack of mail and held it up. “No, it’s tonight.” She waved the card at Penelope. “It’s Sienna’s New York debut.”
“Right, I remembered that part.” They’d met Sienna the previous summer in Florida while they worked on a movie with her then-fiancé, Gavin McKenna. “Shoot, I have to call Joey. I know I told him the wrong day,” Penelope said, looking around the kitchen for her phone. It was gleaming silver on the far granite countertop. She picked it up and saw that she had a missed call from him and a text that read: We still on for tonight? NYC?
“It looks like he remembered. Now I feel like a crazy person,” Penelope said, calling him back. “Great, voicemail. Hey, Joey, it’s Penny. Call me when you can about tonight.”
“Good,” Arlena said. “Max is excited that we’re all coming, especially Daddy.”
Arlena and Max’s father, the legendary actor Randall Madison, was in town visiting between film projects.
Penelope nodded and finished her bottle of water. “I didn’t know Max was that into fashion, or modeling.” She pulled out the refuse compartment next to the sink and slipped the bottle into the recycling bin.
Arlena shrugged, distracted by another piece of mail. “Max is into a lot of things. He and Sienna have become good friends since we were in Florida. Gavin too. I know he wants to help her out. He’s got name recognition, and he does wear clothes well, so that should be helpful to her.”
“What am I going to wear?” Penelope looked down at her running shorts and dirty sneakers. Her legs were salty with sweat and she hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. Fine blond stubble shimmered on her kneecaps.
“Well, not that.” Arlena eyed Penelope up and down. “Come over to my side of the house later and we’ll find something.”
“Thanks,” Penelope said.
Her phone rang and she glanced down to see Joey’s name flash on the screen over a picture of the two of them together on the roof of Rockefeller Center, the Manhattan skyline fogged in behind them, skyscrapers poking through the gray clouds. She smiled and pulled the phone up to her ear, answering on the way upstairs to her room.
Chapter 3
Penelope’s fingers were entwined with Joey’s much thicker ones as he led her through the crowd of flashing bulbs towards the heavy wooden door of the nightclub. Dozens of photographers were lined up on either side of red velvet ropes, clicking their shutters rapidly as they passed. A few of them pulled the cameras away from their faces for a better look at her and Joey, then looked past them expectantly down the red carpet for someone they recognized.
A thin young man in a butler’s uniform and white gloves pulled open the door of the old church as they approached. Penelope could see a large crowd of people milling around inside the nightclub, glasses of wine and cocktails in their hands. Just then she heard a frenzy of shouting and saw the night sky light up with flashes as Arlena, Sam, and Randall walked down the carpet. They paused to pose for the photographers, Arlena flanked by the two men she loved the most. Arlena wore a pale silk dress and bright red high-heeled sandals, her long black hair spilling over her shoulders in shiny waves.
Joey placed his hand at the small of Penelope’s back as they entered the club. “I know I said it earlier, but you look beautiful, Penny Blue.”
Penelope thanked him and looked down at the little black dress she had chosen from Arlena’s closet. It showed much more leg than she was normally comfortable with, but Arlena insisted it looked perfect on her. Penelope reached up and straightened the knot of Joey’s tie and smoothed down his collar. “I’m glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure if tonight would be your idea of fun.”
Joey laughed. “I’m not the most fashionable guy, I guess. But I love being with you. You want a cocktail or a glass of wine?” He nodded toward the bar.
Penelope paused a moment then said, “A dirty martini, please.”
“A fancy drink for my girl tonight. Two dirty martinis, please,” he said to the bartender, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd.
Penelope looked at the side of Joey’s face as he ordered, admiring his strong jaw. He’d just said he loved being with her. It wasn’t the same as saying he loved her, but it was close. Penelope’s heart skipped when she thought about Joey. A lot of times she’d catch herself thinking about him while she was working, chopping vegetables or standing at the grill, her thoughts wandering to the last time they were together or something funny he’d said. They’d been seeing each other for the better part of a year and maybe, quite possibly even, she could be in love with him. But she was too afraid to say it first for fear it would scare him off or put her in a weakened position in their relationship. She didn’t want to think about the possibility of telling Joey she loved him and him not saying it back.
“There you guys are,” Arlena said as she and the others joined them at the bar. “I never even saw you after we got out of the limo.” Sam moved closer to the bar and shouted over the crowd to order drinks.
“I’ve never been here,” Joey said. “Heard about it, of course.” He looked up at the vaulted ceiling. The nightclub had originally been a church, a Gothic Revival brownstone built in the early nineteenth century. It had been deconsecrated, sold by the diocese, and converted into a private drug rehab center in the 1960s. Then in the early ’70s, it was bought by the son of a wealthy Greek family and turne
d into a nightclub, one of many he owned around the world, all in former houses of worship. Xapa was a landmark in the Manhattan nightlife scene, infamous for its celebrity clientele and free-flowing drug trade back in the day, although currently it was much tamer, attracting more tourist business than anything else.
Randall handed Arlena and Sam their cocktails. “I used to come here all the time,” he said, taking a sip of his martini and nodding at the stage. “I saw Blondie for the first time right over there.”
“Blondie?” Arlena asked distractedly. She took a sip of her drink, careful not to spill any on her sheer white dress.
“Arlena, you know who Blondie is, right?” Randall paused and stared at her.
“Oh yeah, she’s cool,” Arlena said evasively, looking out over the crowd. “I wonder where Max is.”
Randall shook his head and sighed. “I’m sure he’s backstage getting ready for the show.”
The rear wall of the club was draped in heavy black velvet. Several giant disco balls dangled from the wooden beams above their heads, slowly rotating and tossing flashes of shimmery light around the room, landing briefly on the faces of the crowd below. There was a raised runway in the center of the club hugged by the same black velvet material that lined the walls, and rows of folding chairs lined up on either side. A few people had claimed their seats around the stage, but most of the crowd was still mingling with an expectant energy. Penelope could see movement just behind the curtains of the main stage where she assumed Sienna and her models were getting ready for the show.
“How long are you in town for, Sam?” Joey asked.
“I’m leaving tomorrow for Munich to get started on the next Sloan picture. We’ll be there three weeks then move around to different countries like we always do.”
Joey listened as Sam talked about the filming sites throughout Europe for his next action movie. “Then I’ll be back here again in a few months for our premiere.” He kissed Arlena on the cheek.
“What premiere?” Joey asked, finishing off his drink and glancing at the bartender.
“Remember the Fall is set to debut at the Empire Film Festival in the spring,” Arlena said. “That’s the movie where we all met. Oh God, I just realized I have no idea how big I’m going to be. If I get the Indiana part, I’ll have to get all new clothes.”
Joey looked at her with a questioning glance.
“She’s putting on weight for a role,” Penelope murmured in his ear as Arlena began discussing different dress sizes with Sam.
“Oh.” He chuckled, glancing at Arlena’s flat stomach and then averting his eyes quickly. “For a minute, I thought she was talking about something else.”
Penelope shook her head. “She’s just getting started, twenty-five pounds is her goal. Excuse me. I’m going to find the ladies’ room before the show starts.” A purple neon Venus symbol was hung from the ceiling in the back corner next to a flickering Mars, pointing to a darkened hallway. “Be right back.”
At the end of the dark hallway, there were two doors, both etched with graffiti and plastered with bumper stickers of different bands. She could make out a large circle painted on each, but she had a hard time deciding which one was the female symbol. Looking over her shoulder, she saw she was alone in the hallway, no one approaching to give her a clue about which door to use.
Penelope chose the door on the left, pressing the cold greasy paint with her fingertips. She didn’t see anyone inside, so she quickly made her way to the bank of sinks and peeked under the stalls. Noticing a pair of men’s shoes facing the toilet in the farthest one, she tiptoed back towards the door on her high heels.
Back in the hallway, she set her shoulders and entered the opposite room, breathing a sigh of relief after confirming she was alone in the women’s bathroom. Quickly choosing a stall, she latched the door behind her.
Just as she began to hitch up her skirt, the bathroom door banged open. A spray of giggles followed, bouncing off of the porcelain tiles. They were joined by a deeper, more masculine laugh. Penelope heard the latch slide closed on the bathroom door, locking them all inside together.
“What the…?” Penelope whispered to herself. She pulled her skirt back down and stood frozen in the stall, strands of discarded toilet paper curling around her high heels. The sounds of kissing followed more giggles and then soft moaning from the couple on the other side of the stall.
Penelope peered through the crack in the door and saw the back of a tall man with shoulder-length blond hair and a woman’s thin legs anchored at his waist as she sat on the counter, kissing him hungrily and running her hands through his hair.
“Ouch,” he said, laughing, as the woman tried to untangle a lock of his hair from her large jade ring. As the sounds of their kissing and groping became more intense, Penelope decided to let them know they weren’t alone before things progressed any further. She cleared her throat loudly.
The amorous couple either hadn’t heard her over their moans or didn’t care that they weren’t alone. Penelope looked again and saw the man’s face in the mirror. Clearly he only had his girlfriend on his mind, his eyes closed to the rest of the world. Penelope rolled her eyes and cleared her throat again, louder this time. The man finally paused. “Did you hear something?” His voice was deep and he had an accent, but Penelope couldn’t place its origin. He was tan and gorgeous, that much she could tell.
“Hear what?” the woman said breathily, kissing his neck.
Penelope turned and flushed the toilet behind her.
The man pulled away from her and let out a deep-throated laugh. “We should have checked to make sure we were alone. Let’s go.” He quickly slid her off of the counter and onto her feet, rushing her towards the door. Penelope tried to get a look at her but only caught a glimpse of her long blond hair, twisted with strands of purple and green highlights, from behind his broad shoulders as he unlatched the door.
They hurried out of the bathroom after the man peeked out to make sure the hallway was empty. The door banged shut behind them. Penelope sighed, thankful to be alone again.
“There she is,” Joey said, handing her a martini as she returned to the bar. The lights dimmed and brightened three times.
“Looks like they’re ready to start. Let’s find our seats,” Randall said.
As they walked towards the runway, they were met at the edge of the chairs by another hipster butler, this one with blue-black hair swept into an Elvis-style updo.
“Mr. Madison, Miss Madison, right this way.” He led them down to the front row and indicated a group of seats in the center of the aisle. The lights dimmed and a large spotlight shone on the runway.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Sienna Wentworth’s New York fashion debut. We hope you enjoy her collection entitled Flesh and Bone.”
Murmurs from the crowd were drowned out by thumping electronic dance music. The curtain was pulled aside and the first model stepped out, sauntering down the runway. He kept pace with the music but walked in a casual, almost offhand way, his hips jutting forward as he gazed off to an imagined horizon over their heads. Another model followed close behind, and Penelope began to see the similarities in their clothes. Low-slung pants, sleeveless shirts with ragged slashes across the front revealing tan, clean-shaven torsos, and studded black leather belts crisscrossed at their waists. Their hair was sprayed into waves on one side of their heads and their eyes were rimmed in heavy black eyeliner. Diamond-studded dog collars pinched each of their necks, glinting in the lights as they passed by.
Penelope admired the colors and designs as they strolled past, thinking the clothes were well-constructed but, at the same time, wondering who would wear them. Penelope looked at Joey, who watched the show with interest, then put a hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh as she tried to picture him in a ripped t-shirt and skinny jeans.
After a few more models had walked the runway, the curtain
opened again and Penelope sucked in her breath. It was the man from the bathroom, wearing a suit, the pants cut much tighter than the average businessman would wear. His dress shirt was unbuttoned to his waist, and his chest was heavy with muscle, an elaborate tattoo of interlocking crosses wrapping around his abdomen. Unlike the others, his hair was slicked back and he wore aviator sunglasses that reflected back the spotlights to the crowd. He smirked easily as he walked, adjusting the dog collar around his neck.
“Gordon Gekko for the new millennium,” Joey murmured to Penelope as the model passed. An ornate S on the back of his jacket matched the one on Sienna’s invitation.
Max was the next model to emerge from behind the curtain. He wore a suit also, dark blue and well-tailored. He walked confidently, though less smoothly than the other models. Pausing at the end of the runway, he pulled open his jacket, placing a hand on his waist. He paused a beat and strutted back, catching Penelope’s eye and winking at her as he passed.
Penelope looked out of the corner of her eye at Joey. He either hadn’t noticed or had no reaction to Max’s flirtation.
When Max disappeared behind the curtain, the first model reemerged, quickly followed by the others in the order they had first appeared, the crowd clapping as they filed past. Eight of them lined the runway, four on each side, bowing to the applause. The curtains opened again and Sienna emerged, holding two gold leashes attached to the collars around the necks of the last two models, Max and the man from the bathroom.
The crowd rose to its feet as they walked to the end, Sienna stopping to take a bow, the leashes grasped at her sides. After a minute, the models began to walk again, filing back behind the curtain in a single line. Sienna, Max, and his partner model brought up the rear. Just before they disappeared behind the curtain, Max turned to wave at the crowd and Sienna playfully pulled on his leash. He laughed and ducked behind the curtain.
The lights rose and it took Penelope a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. She followed her friends over to the bar.
MURDER ON A DESIGNER DIET Page 2