“Because I just got off the phone with Helen Hudson.”
“Oh …?”
“Don’t act so innocent. I know she already talked to you.”
“So.”
“So we’ve reached an agreement.”
“Which is?”
“Which is I will be the sole host and star of the show, but you will be my supporting costar.”
“Supporting costar as in playing Camera Girl?” Although I should be relieved to go back to this role, I’m still mad.
She seems to study me, like she’s taking some kind of inventory or maybe even about to critique my outfit, which is more my style than hers. I’m ready to defend myself.
“No … I mean supporting costar as in playing yourself and my little sister. If you feel the need to lug your camera around, well, it’s okay with me. Although Helen might disagree. But I will draw the line at you trying to upstage me. Either I remain the star of On the Runway or I will walk.”
I give her a blasé look. “And that’s supposed to surprise me?”
“I wasn’t trying to surprise you … I was simply trying to make myself clear.”
I nod and, trying to keep from saying or doing anything I’ll be sorry for, I begin making my way toward my bedroom.
“We’re still on for the morning,” she calls out.
“On for what?” I pause with my hand on my doorknob.
“You know, we need to get some more film for the wedding episode.”
“Oh … right.” I nod, suddenly feeling sleepy. Or maybe I just want to escape this craziness.
“Fran will meet us in the studio at eight.”
So I promise to be ready to leave here by seven, then go into my room and close the door. And, okay, I guess I should be happy that this thing has been resolved … or sort of resolved. But I still feel seriously irked. And hurt. I feel like my sister should apologize to me. Okay, I realize that, in her weird twisted way of thinking, she might actually believe she’s done nothing wrong. But the way she’s treated me was insulting and selfish and hurtful—and unless she figures it out, I don’t really see how we can work together. At least without some horrible sisterly catfight, which the viewers might like.
As I get ready for bed, I realize that I probably need a slight attitude adjustment myself. Perhaps even a big one. But as I open my Bible—part of my adjustment strategy—I’m still resenting that I’m the one who always has to make these amends. I wish that Paige, the “older” sister, would take more responsibility for maintaining good relations with me for a change. Of course, I know that’s not likely to happen anytime soon. And, not for the first time, I’m reminded of how God always takes the first step toward us … he’s the one who initiates reconciliation. I know I should be honored to be able to do the same. But the truth is, I’m going to need some help. A whole lot of help!
Chapter
10
“This is from Helen,” Fran hands me an envelope as Paige and I are getting makeup and hair done at the studio.
“Uh-oh,” Shauna says in a teasing tone. “Hope it’s not a pink slip.”
I frown as I open the envelope.
“Stop making that nasty scowl,” she scolds as I unfold the note from Helen. “You’ll ruin your eyeliner. Not only that, but you’ll need Botox before you’re thirty.”
My face muscles relax as I begin to read the memo.
Dear Jiminy:
As you know, we’ve settled on the contract. I wanted to call you this morning, but I have an early appointment, so this must suffice. This is what I want from you: Be yourself on the show. Fran will support this direction. But it must also come from you. We understand that Paige is the star, but you are the costar and we want you to let your personality shine. Don’t be afraid to push things—even if big sister doesn’t like it. This is what makes for good TV. If I have not been clear, please feel free to call me later in the day.
Best,
Helen Hudson
Executive Producer, On the Runway
I refold the memo and return it to the envelope with a smile. So this is Helen’s open invitation for me to be both seen and heard. I’m glad she actually put it in writing.
“Good news?” Shauna asks as she brushes on some blush.
“Kind of.”
“Let me guess … you’re getting a raise?”
“Something like that,” I tell her. And in a way it’s true. It’s like Helen is trying to raise my position in the show. I have to appreciate that.
Naturally, I don’t mention my memo to Paige, and she seems oblivious as we ride over to our first appointment. It’s with the new bridal-wear designer Fran said is supposed to be so great, but unfortunately it turns out to be a bit of a disappointment. Not that his designs are bad. In fact, I think some are rather nice. But the poor man has absolutely no camera appeal, and despite the fact that our show would give him some good, free publicity, he pretty much blows it and I suspect his footage will end up on the cutting-room floor.
Next we head over to Vera Wang. Then, with cameras rolling, Paige and I start checking out Vera’s gorgeous designs. This designer definitely gets it when it comes to high-fashion weddings.
I don’t mind trying on some bridesmaid dresses, but I draw the line at wedding gowns. Call me old-fashioned or a stick in the mud (like Paige is doing today) but I am not about to try on a bridal gown. Not until I’m planning my own wedding, and I don’t see that happening any time soon. But Paige has no problem trying on several gowns, like she wants to test fate. And, of course, she looks absolutely amazing in them. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone doesn’t invite her to pose for a cover of a bridal magazine after our show airs.
“You’ll make a gorgeous bride!” The woman assisting Paige adjusts a short veil that is supposed to be reminiscent of the fifties.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” I tease my sister.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Paige tosses me a sideways glance, which I know is meant for the camera but still feels like a personal jab.
“That’s right.” Ignoring the prick, I speak confidentially to the camera. “Sister of the bride and I don’t even know who the groom is.” I hold up my hands and look down at the pale blue dress I’m modeling. “Chances are I won’t even be invited to participate in the wedding.”
“Not if you’re wearing those shoes anyway.” Paige turns up her nose at my sensible sandals. Naturally, I neglected to pick up some wedding-appropriate footwear from the studio this morning and Paige is not letting me, or the viewers, forget this.
“At least I can walk in these shoes,” I tell her. “I mean without injuring myself anyway.” I turn to the camera again. “I wonder if our viewers realize that high heels are a real health threat. Besides the possibility of broken ankles or serious foot injuries, high heels can cause chronic back and knee problems and—”
“But that all depends on the design of the shoe,” Paige injects with a confident smile. “You see … there’s a perfect high heel for everyone.”
“Says who?” I ask a bit defiantly. After all, Helen told me to be myself and Fran seems to be looking on with approval.
“Every foot is different,” Paige explains to me. She turns to the camera. “Seriously, fashion friends, unless you’re over forty, you don’t need to switch over to orthopedic shoes just yet. Don’t let my little sister scare you into sacrificing style for boring sensibility.” She points to my shoes, which I must admit do look a bit odd with the gown, and the cameras follow. “Seriously, do you want to go around looking like that?” She laughs.
So I hunch over, acting like I’ve injured my back. “Or would you rather go around like this?” I ask as I limp about, acting like I’m really messed up, and groaning with each step. “Because this is what could happen if you keep wearing overly tall high heels.”
Paige laughs louder now. “Oh, that’s a good look, Erin. Maybe our viewers will understand that good posture is essential to good style. You’re making a perfect example of
fashion don’ts today.”
I stand up straight and force a smile. “I just wanted to give our viewers a visual aid—something to take with them the next time they’re tempted to buy four-inch heels.”
“Speaking of harmful foot health.” Paige turns her attention back to the cameras. “I’ll bet you don’t know what can really mess up your feet.” She looks back at me. “Do you know, Erin?”
“Besides high heels?”
“Yes.” She has that catty smile again. “In fact, I’ll give you a clue. This is one of your favorite forms of footwear.”
“What?”
“Flip-flops.” She looks smugly back at the camera. “That’s right, girls and boys, I said flip-flops. I just read an article about it.” She chuckles. “Not only are flip-flops a big fashion flop, they are very bad for your feet.”
“How’s that?” I ask.
“For starters, unless you wear these fair-weather friends only in your home, you are literally exposing your feet to hundreds of thousands of germs and bacteria.” She makes a face. “Eww. Imagine all that crud accumulating on your sweet little tootsies. I am talking about some serious germs too—some that are too nasty to even mention on this show.”
“Oh, come on,” I challenge her. “What could be that bad?”
“Think about it, Erin. Where do you walk in flip-flops? Bathrooms and parks and beaches and all sorts of places where disgusting things happen. You carry those things in the soles of your flip-flops and on your feet. I’m not kidding. They are seriously gross.” She makes a face.
And, okay, I’m feeling a little speechless. Not that it matters, since my sister’s gift of gab is fully kicked into gear.
“Not only that, but I want you to think about what some of you do with those flip-flops … think about where you store them when you’re not wearing them. Some of you—and you know who you are—actually tote them around in your handbags.” She firmly shakes her head. “Unless you have them sealed safely in a plastic bag, that is a great big no-no. Trust me, you so do not want those nasty flip-flop germs residing right next to your favorite lip gloss.”
“Are you serious?” Now I’m wondering where she finds this stuff.
“Absolutely.”
“So maybe everyone should start washing their flip-flops,” I suggest. “I mean, what’s so difficult about that?”
She shrugs. “Well, here’s some more breaking news. Did you know that besides the germ factor, flip-flops are dangerous in another way too? Are you aware that flip-flops are responsible for thousands, maybe millions, of falls that result in serious injuries?”
“Serious injuries?” I question.
“Do the research. Besides that, flip-flops are not good for your feet in general. They offer no support and are really hard on arches. So no matter how you look at it, flip-flops are a big flop.” She shakes her finger. “And, in this girl’s opinion, they are a big fashion don’t.”
I hold up my hands, making an incredulous face. “Who knew?”
“Now you do.” Paige smiles brightly as Fran gives us the sign to wrap this up. “And that is why you tune into my show, because I’m your style expert. This is Paige Forrester for On the Runway, and I want to remind you to put your best foot forward—not in flip-flops either. As for me, that would be Prada today! I’ll see you next week in London, England, where we will be enjoying Mayfair in May!”
After we’ve changed from the bridal wear and are walking back to our cars, I ask Paige what “Mayfair in May” is supposed to mean.
“Don’t you do any research for our show?” she asks with a dismayed expression that I’m sure is for Fran’s sake.
“I try to do some,” I assure her, “but as you just told the viewers, this is your show. I don’t see the need for me to be the expert.”
“Mayfair is the fashion district in London,” Fran tells me. “It’s where we’ll be staying—in fact, we’re booked in the May Fair Hotel, which actually makes for a pretty good story, not to mention a great place to stay.”
“And since it’s May,” Paige says smugly, “‘Mayfair in May’ seemed appropriate. Do you get it now?”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Why don’t you save your denigration of me for when the cameras are rolling?”
Fran chuckles. “Too bad they’re not rolling now.”
The remainder of the week was spent going to planning sessions for the London trip, previewing episodes for the next couple of weeks, and generally avoiding conversations with my sister. I tell myself that Paige and I are just having one of those sisterly snits, and that we will get past this, but the night before we’re scheduled to fly out of LAX, a part of me is starting to get worried. When I go to tell Mom goodnight, I mention it.
She nods sadly. “I’ve noticed you two seem a little out of sorts.”
“I’m sure it’ll blow over,” I say. “Well, unless it just blows up.”
She pats her bed. “Want to talk?”
I sigh as I sit down. “I’m so frustrated,” I admit. “I mean, I feel like I’m trying, but it’s like Paige always wants to do the one-up thing with me. Like she thinks I’ve suddenly turned into her key competitor.”
“Maybe she does.”
I nod. “Yeah, maybe so. She kind of reminds me of this model we’ve had some run-ins with.” I tell Mom a little about Eliza and how everything with her is a big competition. “That gets so old.”
“I know what you mean. There’s a woman at work who’s like that. It can be exhausting.”
“Exactly.”
“I usually tell myself that it’s because Arden is having some self-esteem issues,” Mom confides. “But the truth is that Arden is gorgeous and smart and, as far as I can see, she should be nothing but confident.”
“But she’s not?”
Mom shakes her head. “No. And, unfortunately, she often has the need to boost her confidence at the expense of others.”
“Why is that?” I look at Mom, hoping she has the answer or maybe some kind of magic button.
“I wish I knew.”
I frown. “You don’t?”
“All I can say is that there’s one thing that usually smoothes over the rough spots.”
“What?”
“Just being extra nice to her, giving her compliments, commending her for a job well done … you know the drill.”
I stare at Mom now, trying to make sense of something that I’ve been exposed to for as long as I can remember—a game of sorts that I was taught to play long ago. Sometimes it feels as if I’ll be playing it all my life. “So … what if you’re only contributing to her bad behavior?” I ask.
Mom looks surprised. “What?”
“What if being nice and giving compliments is simply a form of enablement?”
Mom looks amused. “Enablement?”
I nod. “I’ve read about this. Enablement is doing something that allows another person to continue in a harmful or destructive behavior. It’s a form of codependency.”
Mom laughs. “I thought your major was going to be film, not psychology.”
“Psychology and film are related, don’t you think?”
She nods. “Yes. I’m sure you’re right.”
“Anyway, what if you’ve done such a good job enabling Paige, as well as your friend at work, that they get stuck in some bad habits? Do you feel any responsibility for that?”
Mom’s brow creases. “I suppose I should.”
“But you don’t?”
“Okay.” She looks at me. “I will take some responsibility for your sister. I realize that your dad and I both probably spoiled her some. But we did it for the welfare of the family, Erin. And for you.”
“Really?”
“So many times it was just not worth it to allow Paige to throw a fit that would ruin something for everyone. I know you understand this.”
I’m feeling a little irritated. “So the princess throws a fit and everyone comes running to make it better, and this helps the princess how?”
/>
Mom smiles. “To become even more spoiled?”
“Bingo.”
“You do the same thing with Paige, Erin.”
“Because I’ve been trained to do the same thing.”
Mom makes kind of a helpless little sigh. “Here’s the truth, Erin. Your dad and I never claimed to be child-rearing experts. We figured if we took care of your basic needs, loved you, and tried to offer forms of enrichment, you girls would be okay.” She smiles as she runs her hand over my hair and then rests it on my cheek. “I’d say we didn’t do half bad either.”
For her sake, I force a smile. “Yeah, you guys did great.”
Mom hugs me now. “Oh, Erin. You were always such a serious little girl. Unfortunately, you probably got that from me.” She holds me out and looks at my face. “That’s why I think you should understand that people like us—ones who tend to take life a bit too seriously—actually need others like Paige. We need their brightness … their lightness. And sometimes we have to take a little bit of selfishness with it. It’s a package deal.”
I nod like I get this. And, okay, I mostly get it. But I still think I’m right about the enablement thing. Paige has been enabled and encouraged to be fairly self-centered and spoiled. And, sure, she might be Little Miss Sunshine when she gets her way, but like the weather, she can turn on you. So, once again, I suppose it’s my job to help make sure that things continue to go her way during our stay in London. What’s new?
Chapter
11
Why am I not surprised when Benjamin insists on driving Paige to the airport? Since they arrive right before Fran and me, we get to witness the scene as paparazzi swarm Benjamin’s SUV. Because the photographers are on foot, I have to wonder how they got there so quickly. Did someone tip them off? Or do they just hang out at LAX twenty-four/seven, waiting for a celeb to show so they can snap something? It reminds me of sharks in a feeding frenzy. Even though Paige Forrester and Benjamin Kross aren’t the hottest Hollywood couple to be caught together, I’m sure that some of these photos will score some fairly big bucks when the paparazzi sell them to whatever gossip magazine is currently buying.
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