Chapter 48
Kjell
With the newspapers packed in two oversized bags, I enter the Waterfront Congress Centre, which towers in front of me with its impressive glass structure.
Inside is a frenzy of activity. Countless reporters and photographers are trying to secure the best spots. Even television crews are here. I spot logos from Swedish and international channels.
Right in front of the glass facade, which offers a view of the Klara-Sj? Canal and the city lights beyond, a female host with a fringed short haircut positions herself. Her cameraman illuminates his camera's lamp.
"Three, two, one," he counts down while holding up the corresponding number of fingers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm reporting live today from the Waterfront Congress Centre for a never-before-seen show," the host announces with an engaging smile. "It's another one of Chloe Morrigan's marketing stunts that have garnered her attention weeks before the Oscars."
I watch as she moves around, revealing more details about the show. If I play my cards right, I could get my newspaper into the shot. The entire of Sweden would see the special edition of Sanningens ?gonblick live. But would that be enough to get Sky's attention?
"More than two hundred labels submitted their designs, and twenty-five of them have been invited to today's final selection show," the host reports with sensationalism in her tone. "From relatively unknown newcomers to major players, everything is represented. Even Touch av lyx is presenting a design today, despite owner and fashion guru Gustav Blohm still seemingly missing in action."
I have a feeling I know what's coming next.
"Who is responsible for the submission? Who is currently pulling the strings at Touch av lyx? And does that person have the right touch?" She looks expectantly into the camera, capitalizing on the moment of silence to amplify the drama of her words. "We may find out today. Stay tuned, the show starts in twenty minutes."
This is my cue. I need to find Sky, and I need to do it now. I walk straight toward the showroom, where most of the chairs are already occupied. In the dim light, I sprint forward, the two bags with the newspapers brushing against my shins with every step. Even though Sky is probably backstage helping out, I want to at least check and see if she's sitting in the audience.
No, that would have been too easy. In the second row, I spot Sky's mother, and the two chairs next to her are empty. I give her a brief wave, then I march back into the foyer and turn toward the door where a man with broad shoulders and a black bomber jacket stands. As I approach him, my brain goes into overdrive.
"Delivery for Touch av lyx ," I say as casually as possible, holding up the two bags in my hands.
The security guy crosses his arms and nods toward the exit. "The delivery entrance is at the back. Door nine."
And there's definitely another one of his kind back there. "Listen, I'm seriously running late, and they don't mess around. I hold my hand up so he can see my wristwatch. "If I don't deliver this stuff right now, they're going to kill me."
He doesn't show any expression. "Better you get in trouble than me letting you through."
"Damn, don't you know what kind of ruthless people they are?" I ask, not having to fake the panic in my voice.
Sky is back there, and she's supposed to get the newspaper from me. I want to be there when she reads the article. Right now, the edition is being delivered to the stores. It could be just minutes until the first people read my piece. If I don't catch Sky here, my entire plan falls apart.
"They won't just fire me," I add after the guy doesn't react. "They'll unleash their lawyers on me because I ruined their show."
Skeptically, he tilts his head. "Really?"
"Oh God, yes! Do you have any idea how much it will cost me if they lose the competition today because of me?" Based on everything I know about Gustav Blohm so far, that's not entirely unlikely. He's willing to do whatever it takes for his label, even if it means stepping on others.
"Shit, man. That's harsh. But I still can't let you through." His arms relax, and he raises his hands, as if he's genuinely sorry.
The cuff of his jacket sleeve slips, revealing a rainbow-colored wristband on his wrist. It looks like a homemade gift. That gives me an idea. I need to tell him a fib, but what's at stake here is so much bigger than a little white lie.
"Please." I present the bags in my hands once more. "How am I supposed to get these to my little daughter..."
Yes. It works.
His expression softens.
He looks around nervously. "Damn," he mutters, then steps aside. "But be quick."
"Thank you, you saved me." Breathing a sigh of relief, I slip through the door, and that's the last hurdle I need to overcome.
Somewhere in here is Sky, and nothing will stop me from finding her.
I march forward, asking anyone who crosses my path about Touch av lyx and handing out a newspaper just to be safe.
The leads guide me to a door with the label's name on it. It's the only dressing room in this corridor, far away from all the others and particularly close to the stage.
Only one newspaper remains in my bags.
I can hardly breathe; my hands are sweating, and my heart pounds hard against my chest.
I've come this far, and I won't hesitate now.
This is my chance, so I place my trembling fingers on the handle and push it down.