Chapter 13
“I know you said rock musical, but how do you feel about a Paris by Night meets Eurovision aesthetic?” Zoe asked as she flipped through her binder stuffed with ripped magazine pages and printouts
of different outfits.
She’d transformed the largest cutting table in the Something Cheeky workroom into her design center. It was stacked with various
books on fashion history and Vietnamese magazines that her cousins had brought back from their travels. Her pencils and markers
were strewn in between all the reference materials.
“Eurovision?” Derek cringed. He’d set up camp at her tiny desk in the corner. “That’s too much spandex.”
“You look great in spandex,” she teased. “Remember Into the Woods ? You wore that spandex bodysuit with a big fluffy tail and a codpiece.”
“I prefer to leave a few things to the imagination,” he interrupted. “Even if your designs were brilliant.”
Zoe scoffed.
“I’m serious. Who else could have taken our professor’s vision for a Southern-and-vampire-inspired fractured fairy tale and
made them look good?” he reminded her.
“Oh my God. He had some weird ideas, but I had fun working on it during junior year.”
The head of their theater program was into unlikely mash-ups because he thought it made him edgy. His challenging combinations forced everyone to dig deep into their creative well. Somehow the productions always worked out.
“We need to keep T ? m Cám ’s fairy-tale energy no matter what,” he said as he tapped away on his laptop. “We loved your suggestion to keep the Emperor
nameless. Th ? o suggested that everyone else’s names should be their job or title. Only the sisters will have actual names.”
Zoe nodded, but her brain was stuck on the memory of fitting him for that ridiculous costume. He’d looked hot in that costume.
Fairy vibes paired with big dick energy. Zoe’s eyes widened. Luckily Derek wasn’t looking at her or he’d see the blush creep
up her neck to her face.
Why was she even thinking about his—she bit her lip and took a deep breath. Yes, Derek was attractive, but they were friends.
Semi-strangers, since they’d been out of touch for so long.
“You’re right. No spandex. Maybe just Paris by Night with a strong Viet historical influence?”
She picked up another binder, in which there were printouts of her favorite outfits from the California-based entertainment
show. Zoe’s grandparents always had it playing in the background when she was growing up. The flashy American pop covers paired
with body-hugging costumes and choreographed dance numbers had captivated her at an early age.
“I’m getting flashbacks to all the Paris by Night videos you forced me to watch.”
“Forced? As I recall, you were dancing and singing along.” She hummed and mimed his moves.
“Don’t remind me how much my Vietnamese sucks. My mom would not approve.”
“Drunk Derek singing was entertaining. I have video proof.”
“Please never show that to the world,” he begged her.
She stuck her tongue out at him. Her fingers stopped moving and his cheeks grew pink as he stared at her. Or was he looking at her tongue? Zoe withdrew it back into her mouth. What was supposed to be a playful moment had turned into something she’d never felt around him before. Her abdomen grew warm and her neck tingled. She cleared her throat.
“Fine, I’ll stick with historical Viet clothing, but we’ll give it modern-day pop-rock inspo.” It was better to stick to what
was in front of her than attempt to name whatever that was.
“Zoe, why are you still waffling about your concept?” He pushed his glasses back up his nose with a concerned expression.
“I want it to be perfect,” she admitted. This was a big show to debut with, and she had to do it right.
“This entire production is a work in progress. The show will change between now, opening night, and closing.” He walked over
to her. “There will be rewrites and tweaks down to the last DC performance.”
“Really?” Her chest tightened as doubt crept back in.
There was so much Zoe didn’t know about professional theater. Sewing costumes for Lysistrata was only a small part of the process. She hadn’t been involved in the day-to-day creation like with T ? m Cam . She hadn’t even met with the director for the Greek play. Her main contact was the designer and the costume shop manager.
“Yes. Theater is art. It’s breathing and evolving. Especially for a new show. Sometimes we won’t know if a song hits until
it’s performed in front of an audience.”
“I didn’t know any of this. All the main stage shows in college were ones that have been around for a while.”
Her armpits became clammy. She’d looked up the scenic and lighting designers once she’d learned who they were. The creative
team had years of experience on major shows. Then there was her, a nobody in the theater world.
“I hate to rush you, but we have a meeting with Greg tomorrow. He wants to see your preliminary sketches and go over our progress.”
“Tomorrow? I’m not even close!” Zoe’s heart raced and she swallowed the acid coming up her throat.
“They don’t have to be pretty. Enough for him to understand the concept of your designs,” he said gently.
Zoe nodded as she tried to smooth out her face to hide her panic.
“I can help you however you need,” he offered. “We’re a team, remember?”
“But you and Th ? o still have songs to finish. You two are a team, too.”
“She understands that meetings are part of my job. And I’m prepping you for one.” He smiled reassuringly. “So we’re good,
okay?”
“They won’t be fully colored. And I have no fabric swatches.” She gathered up all her markers and put them in a pile.
“Hey.” Derek placed his hand on top of hers. It was warm against her clammy hands. “You won’t need those till the first read
through. And the costume shop manager can help you shop for fabric.”
“When is that?” She was almost afraid to ask.
“Next week.”
“I can’t do this.” Zoe pulled her hand away and started to pace in a circle—or was that a rectangle?—around her worktable.
She was glad her staff was in the front helping customers, so they couldn’t see their usually unflappable boss have a full-blown
panic attack.
“Z, breathe.” Derek joined her frenetic pacing. “You’re making me dizzy. Can we slow down and talk about this?”
She took deep breaths through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. After a few counts, her heartbeat slowed down closer to normal and so did she. She stopped in front of her sketchbook, where Derek had flipped to the drawings she’d stayed up all night working on.
“Do for the other characters what you did for T ? m’s designs. Those were perfect.” He tapped the paper.
“But I was only playing around. I have to look at the big picture and make them cohesive. They’re supposed to tell a story,”
she said too quickly. She took another deep breath.
“And they will.”
Derek was so confident because he’d always nailed his performances. He’d gotten almost every part he’d auditioned for in college.
He graduated with a theater degree. Set out on his own in New York. Unlike her. She’d run home with her tail between her legs.
Even if it didn’t feel like that at the time, she finally saw her actions for what they were: fear.
“If you say so.”
“Come on, Z. You tell stories with the lingerie you design.” He pointed at the big corkboard where she hung her newest designs.
Her team had worked hard to turn her sketches into patterns and to construct lingerie from them.
“Most people don’t ask me what story a bra or a negligee tells.”
“But they know when they see your clothes and imagine what they’ll do when they wear it.”
He picked up a hanger with a neon-and-black-lace bra and placed it against his chest. He posed and gave her an exaggerated
smolder. “This bra says I am a badass who can wear this to the club because who says bras have to be hidden under clothes? ”
Derek pursed his lips in a sexy pout as he pretended to dance in a nightclub. He was trying to cheer her up and was successful
at it, too. Zoe bit her lip to keep from laughing. She loved that he was never afraid to look silly. What mattered to him
was enjoying the character he embodied at the time. He was a natural onstage.
But this wasn’t a stage. He did all this for her and to make her feel better about her lack of experience. Somehow he always knew the right way to boost her confidence, whether it was by being silly or giving her a pep talk when she needed it the most.
“And this—” Derek flung a floor-length red chiffon robe around his shoulders. It was too small for him to slip his arms into
the sleeves with red marabou feathers sewn to them. More soft fluffy feathers trimmed the lapels all the way down to the hem
of the train.
“This,” he continued as he glided around the workroom, “says I just killed my rich husband and I am pretending to be sad until I get my inheritance. ”
“We call that the murder robe—privately, of course.” Zoe laughed as he continued to act out the part of a grieving widow.
“It’s one of our most requested commissions.”
“Aha!” He grinned. “Point made.”
“Fine, you’re right. Now put that back before you rip it!”
He made one more round with it before hanging it up.
“For each launch, I do tell some kind of story, but it’s intuitive. I don’t actively create pieces to fit into a story when
I start out.”
“Then pretend you’re designing full body lingerie for all the characters.”
She snorted at the image he’d created. “I don’t think that’s the vibe you want for this musical.”
“You have to trust yourself.” Derek grabbed her hand and placed it against her chest.
She looked down at his hand on top of hers as her chest rose with each breath. His hand burned her skin. Everything around
her fell silent except for the sounds of them breathing. At first each had their own rhythm but slowly, they synchronized.
Goose bumps spread across her arm.
Zoe looked up right into his eyes. His pupils were dilated and his lips opened in a content smile. A jumble of emotions she couldn’t even name swirled inside her. Naming them was too scary, so she removed their hands from her chest and took a step back.
He remained in place but stuck his hands in his pockets. Was he waiting for her to say something about that ?
“That’s easier said than done,” she said, pretending she hadn’t noticed his earlier expression. “I’ve designed lingerie for
years.”
He ran his hand through his hair as he frowned but smiled quickly to cover it up. As if sensing her discomfort, he backed
away closer to his workspace.
“Z, I’ll trust you until you can trust in yourself,” he said quietly but with plenty of confidence.
“That was so cheesy.” But she liked it. She felt better knowing that he’d stand behind her as she figured out what the hell
she was doing. He’d always stood by her in school, except for that one time. But it had been hard for both of them. She shouldn’t
have made him choose.
“I don’t care if I’m being cheesy. I just put on a murder robe and pranced around the room. I meant it.”
“Okay, will you remind me of that whenever I freak out?”
“I wasn’t always here for you before, but I am now, Z.” He winked at her. “Best friends, right?”
Zoe nodded. Their friends-only pact protected them from relationship drama and awkwardness. Best friends didn’t think about
the other’s body in a tight spandex suit. Would he still stick with her if he knew she was struggling to see him as only a
friend?