The model made her way backstage to the dressing area. She shimmied out of the black dress and put it on its hanger. “Who's the guy to the left of the runway, Shannon? About ten seats up?”
“That's the sponsors seating area,” Shannon responded. She, like the other girls, was beautiful. She had black hair, slightly frizzled. Her skin was the color mocha. What set her apart was the bright green of her eyes. “Scott something. Let me check.” She looked at something on her dressing table. “Jamerson, Leah. Scott Jamerson.”
Leah slipped her shoes off and checked her one heel for damage before setting it aside and taking a royal blue dress off the rack with her name on it. The blonde popped her head up from her own dressing table. “Jamerson's are old money. Too good for you, girlfriend. Me, I'll be hooking him once we're done on the runway.”
“Remind me again why no one likes you, Celeste,” Shannon shot at her back as she ran to the stage entrance.
“Bitch!” Celeste called back.
“Can you get this zipper for me?” Leah asked.
Shannon ran the zipper up and tucked the pull. “His name is Jason Scott. Got your sights set?”
“I...I don't know,” Leah said, grabbing the shoes for the dress.
“Capwell!” a man's voice barked. The models not queuing up for their next appearance on the runway all looked to see what was happening.
“Oh, shit,” Shannon whispered.
Leah turned to face the stage director, who came up close to her. “What the hell was that?”
“I tripped.”
“You tripped. Over your own feet. You've been walking that runway for a week rehearsing and tonight you decide to show off your grace by tripping! And then, after that, what did you do? You looked back! Monique! What are the stage directions for this show?”
“Don't trip. Look graceful. Don't make eye contact. Don't look back,” a girl's voice called back to him.
“You've got three more trips up there, Capwell. I don't want to see a repeat performance! Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good!”
“Asshole,” Shannon whispered when the stage manager was departing.
“I heard that, Welles!” he barked.
“Don't mind him, Leah. He's just looking for a reason since he hasn't gotten into the pants of any of us, as far as I know.”
Leah shrugged. One of the assistants slipped past her and took the black dress off her rack and deftly slipped it into a garment bag. A numbered tag went over the hook. “Hey! George? I was going to wear that to the Meet and Greet after!”
Shrugging, George said, “Sorry, Leah. Dress got bought outright. Guy paid twice the reserve without blinking.”
“You would smile like that, George. It was your design.” “Sorry. Pick another for after.”
“But I like that dress,” Leah pouted.
“Can't help you, Leah,” George told her, carting the dress away.