Chapter Seven
Brooke stared at the sketches the last designer left
behind and decided Cleo was the luckiest director in the history of time. “None
of this works. I understand you’re modernizing Three Sisters, but did
she even read the play?”
Cleo sat back in the makeup chair. The Bliss Rep Theater
didn’t have a ton of office space, so she was working in the large dressing
room the cast shared. “I won’t lie to you. We fought about it. A lot. I think
it’s one of the reasons she left. She was, as she put it, an artiste. I think
the whole guy thing was just an excuse.”
“Well, I like to think I’m an artist, but I also have to
serve the customer. In this case the play itself is the customer.” She’d
watched the rehearsal and thought she’d gotten the vibes Cleo was throwing out.
Though they’d modernized Chekhov’s play, Cleo still had the heart of it in the
production. What if she could do the same? At first it had been a simple way to
get her mind off her trouble. A way to justify being here and staying for a
couple of weeks. She had a job to do. It wasn’t about Shane and Bay. She was
just hanging with them while she was here. That’s all.
She wasn’t sure her friends were buying that but at lunch
they’d all nodded and agreed that it was good to take a sabbatical.
Could she call it a sabbatical when it hadn’t been her
choice?
“So what are you thinking? Usually you would have months and
months, but we’re running short on time. It’s why I decided to not do it as a
period piece. This way we can order the things we need that we don’t have,”
Cleo offered. “Not that I have much of a budget.”
She wasn’t sure she needed much of one. She’d worked with
very little before. “I’ll figure it out. I want to take a look at what we have.
Is it all here?”
“Yes, though the older pieces are kept upstairs. I’ll leave
you a key so you can come and go as you please.” Cleo stood and grabbed her
crossbody bag. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I know it’s kind
of beneath you.”
She looked up. “It’s not, you know. I can’t believe you
haven’t heard the rumors by now. Everyone else has.”
Cleo sobered. “Yeah, you didn’t mention that the other
night. You know it’s okay. We’ve all been there.”
“We’ve all had our work stolen from us by a sexual harassing
asshole?”
Cleo sent her a sympathetic look. “Unfortunately, yeah. I
work in the creative world, too, though it’s not just us. It’s kind of what it
means to be a woman. I wish it wasn’t true and maybe some of us come out of it
without ever having to see the harsh side of life, but I know what happened to
me. I was straight out of college with a degree in theater. I got on at a
really great theater group in LA and quickly became an assistant director. I
was told how amazing I was. How they couldn’t live without me. When the play
moved to Broadway, they cut me. I staged three quarters of that play because
the director was working on a TV show at the same time. But let me tell you, he
took all the credit and didn’t change a thing when the show had its Broadway
run. He didn’t bother to mention me in his Tony speech.”
Her heart ached for her friend. “I’m so sorry.”
Cleo nodded. “Me, too, because I loved that show but what I
learned was no one is coming to save me. I have to save myself. We work in a
field where the goal posts are different for men and women. From directing to
acting. Everyone loves an ingenue. A twenty-something is an it girl. A
forty-something is lucky to play someone’s mom. So actresses learned that they
had to become producers if they wanted anything to change. I’m done playing by
their rules. I’m taking the money from this gig and borrowing some more and I’m
shooting a couple of short films. I’ll see where I go from there, but I know
one thing. I won’t let them drag me down. I won’t let them take my dreams. If
I’m not welcome in their world, then I’ll build another.”
Tears pierced Brooke’s eyes because she understood. “It
feels overwhelming. Gemma explained suing the company probably won’t do
anything but cost me money and my family a lot of trouble. I can’t exactly
start my own line.”
Cleo pointed to the slouchy comfy top Brooke had put on this
morning. It was a lightly woven fabric that managed to be roomy and also cling
where she wanted it to because she’d tailored it. It looked nice with jeans. “I
don’t know. I would buy one of those. Did you make the jeans, too?”
Brooke shrugged. “I like to work with denim but I’ll be
honest, I’ve gotten bored lately. It’s why I went off script and designed the
ski and leisure line my asshole boss stole.”
Cleo started for the door. “Well, think about what I said.
If you ever decide to roll the dice on costume design and you want to work for
very little money, I’m your girl. What I will promise is credit for every
design, every stitch you make. I guess what I would promise is to be a real
team. To make art together. To entertain the people like the family I hope we
all become. Good night, Brooke, and thank you again. Lock up when you’re done.
Not that anyone would come in, but Mel claims there’s an intergalactic war
going on and this would be a good place to hide. I would love to live in that
man’s head for a day. I wonder if he would let me do a documentary?”
Oh, she would bet no. “It would have to be classified.”
Cleo grinned. “And that’s what would be fun about it.
’Night.” She turned back. “Uhm, apparently you have visitors. Oooo, and they brought dinner. Again don’t do anything I
wouldn’t do with two gorgeous men.”
She sat up straight as Shane strode through, giving Cleo a
nod. He had a big basket in his hand and Bay followed him. Nope. They hadn’t
gotten less attractive. She’d kind of hoped in the stark light of day she would
have a different reaction to the two men she meant to use and lose and now was
fake engaged to, though no one actually believed it. She was kind of the worst
and they were…here. Here and big and masculine, and they smelled good. Her
stomach grumbled a little because she’d ordered grilled fish for lunch. It was
excellent but it wasn’t very filling and she’d walked all over town because Fuber didn’t run during school hours. She could only catch
a ride between when the Farley brothers were out of school and when the devil
decided to wake up. So four to ten was her only spot.
She needed a car.
Or she needed to ask for help.
It smelled so good. Why had she picked the fish when she’d
wanted a burger? She knew. She still had that voice in her head telling her if
she was thinner, they would take her more seriously. Not that any male designer
had to look like a model. “What are you doing here? I told you I would be
working late.”
“You have to eat.” Shane set the basket on the table.
Bay stared down at the big book of design sketches the
former designer had left. He frowned. “Is this a new line you’re working on?”
She shuddered at the thought. “No. I love an eighties
influence, but I wouldn’t do this to any woman. It’s like she took all the bad
things about the eighties and put them into one outfit.” She turned the page.
“She seemed to be trying to represent nostalgia in each of the three sisters. I
don’t hate the idea, but I don’t think she thought it through enough. Olga is
Alexis from Dynasty. I’m worried she took her inspiration for Irina
from watching nineties music videos. And Masha is wearing mom jeans. It’s a big
old mess.”
“Good. Those didn’t look like you,” Bay replied, stepping
back.
She was curious. There was a lot they hadn’t gone over the
night before. “What do I look like? Design wise, I mean. You’re an artist,
right? I’d like your opinion.”
“He’s really good,” Shane said.
“It’s not the same. My job is easier. All I have to do is
follow my eyes and instinct. I draw or paint or sculpt the things that speak to
me. You have to make something functional beautiful. Those designs are
neither,” Bay explained. “If I had to describe your aesthetic, it would be
clean lines and classic vibes, but with a nod to the future and functionality.
Your clothes are wearable.”
Yes, he had her down, and that was the problem. “I design
the clothes I like to wear, and apparently that means I’m not high fashion.”
“Very few people wear high fashion,” Bay said with a shake
of his head as though he didn’t understand the problem. “I mean I know some
people like to see pictures of stars on the red carpet, but I would think you
would make way more from designing something a lot of people are going to
wear.”
“Well, you would be wrong.” She watched as Shane set the
basket on one of the makeup tables. “I’m also into tailoring clothes. Like the
shirt Shane’s wearing. If I took it in slightly at the waist, it would create a
better silhouette. I suppose that’s not so important to you, but for a woman
going into the office, how the shirt wears can be important. It can make the
difference between looking professional or slightly messy. But try to explain
to an haute couture company that we need to consider how our blouses will fit
larger breasts and they laugh because our sizes don’t go larger than a twelve.
If you’re bigger than that, they don’t want you.”
“Is that why your clothes always look so good?” Shane sank
down to the chair Cleo had recently occupied. “Do you tailor them yourself?”
“Yes, and I know it’s not possible in mass market clothes,
but it’s what I love. It’s why I adore designing wedding gowns.” She loved
working with actual people instead of simply designing and pulling in some
wafer-thin model who wouldn’t ever wear it. “I designed Jen Talbot’s gown and
did all the bridesmaid’s dresses. Callie still wears hers.”
“I heard Lucy was getting married.” Bay’s hands went to the
back of her neck, and she sighed as he started to rub her shoulders. That felt
amazing. “Are you going to design hers?”
She let her eyes drift closed. She’d thought she needed this