“Be careful of those feet. I need your share of the rent.” Dallas scooped up Bruiser before he made a break for the open door, then grabbed his leash off the hook on the wall. “Don’t worry about dinner. I’m meeting Trudie.”
“Tell her I said hey.”
“Break a leg,” Dallas said as Wendy slipped out into the hall and closed the door.
She put Bruiser down and crouched to secure his leash. “What are you looking at me like that for? Huh?” She stroked his curly black fur, laughed when he licked her chin, rearing back just in the nick of time to avoid a sloppy kiss.
“Okay, boy, I know it’s been a while since I’ve had a date but I like my guys a little taller.” She stood, grabbing the plastic bag she needed to clean up after Bruiser.
In a way she envied Wendy. She never gave up. Her optimism and enthusiasm seemed boundless. Even after she’d lost the contract with Revalyn last year. A week after her twenty-eighth birthday, the company decided they needed someone with younger-looking hands for their print ads. Thank God feet didn’t age as quickly.
Dallas sighed. Boy, was she glad she’d gotten out of that world quickly. She’d modeled for a year during her senior year in college. After the blowup with her parents when they’d cut her off, she’d needed the money. But that had been enough. There had always been someone taller, slimmer, prettier. She’d hated every minute of it.
She led Bruiser out of the apartment, careful to double lock the door, then checked her watch as she waited for the elevator, hoping the damn thing wasn’t on a milk run. Of course, that it was working at all was cause for celebration. If she had the money, she’d move out, but finding and affording another apartment without having to move to Brooklyn would mean working a whole lot of overtime. Or worse, taking another job. The kind her parents would approve. The thought made her shudder.
“THANK GOD YOU’RE HERE.” Trudie looked up from a pink phone slip on her desk, her heavily outlined brown eyes filled with worry. “Close the door, would you?”
“Sure.” Dallas did as asked and then dropped into the worn burgundy leather guest chair. “What’s up?”
“I’m totally screwed.”
Dallas tried not to smile. Her friend had a penchant for drama. Their circle of college friends had been certain Trudie would end up on Broadway and not dressing department store windows. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m in charge of doing the Fifth Avenue window display for the Fourth of July sale. It’s also the store’s tenth anniversary.”
“Sounds like a big deal.”
“Yes,” Trudie said miserably. “And I’m about to blow it big-time.”
“How?”
Trudie shoved the pink slip she’d been studying across her crowded desk, between a stack of fashion magazines and a pile of fabric swatches.
Dallas picked up the phone message. It was from someone named Starla Jenkins. It simply said she had a stomach virus and had to cancel tomorrow evening.
“Okay,” Dallas said slowly, sliding the pink slip back toward Trudie. Her friend was obviously upset, so she forwent the wisecrack that came to mind. “And?”
“I am so screwed.”
“Who’s Starla Jenkins?”
“A model I’d hired.” Trudie exhaled sharply. “Stomach virus, my ass. I haven’t heard of anything going around.”
“So? I’m sure there are fifteen others who’d love to take her place. Call the agency.”
“It’s not that simple,” Trudie said and then remained silent as she stared at Dallas with an odd expression on her face. Her gaze dropped to Dallas’s hands and she wrinkled her nose. “Your nails are horrible.”
Dallas reflexively balled them into fists. “I just got off work.”
“That’s okay.” Trudie flashed her a quick smile. “We can fix them.”
“I don’t want them fixed.” She studied her friend for a moment, a bad feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. “Look, if you need to cancel dinner so you can find a replacement, I totally understand.”
Trudie’s gaze stayed steady. “I already have.”
Dallas stared back, feeling uneasy. Trudie couldn’t possibly be thinking— No, of course not. Ridiculous. She knew better. But just in case… “No.”
“Come on, Dallas. I’m not asking you to do it for free.”
“Why ask me period? You could find a replacement in half an hour.”
“No way, toots.” Trudie shook her head. “I promised my manager something special. A live mannequin.”
Dallas’s mouth opened but didn’t cooperate any further.
“You gave me the idea,” Trudie said in an accusatory tone. “Remember how in college you used to fake everyone out. Jill and I’d take bets you could stay perfectly still for a half hour at a time. Hell, we used to clean up. Pay for all our gas and entertainment.”
“That was eight years ago.”
“You did it again at the Christmas party last year and took fifty bucks off that snobby Chandler Whitestone.”
“That was different. He ticked me off.”
“Please, Dallas. You have to bail me out.”
Dallas sighed. Did she have Sucker written across her forehead or something? “I have faith you’ll find someone else. Or come up with another window display.”
“By tomorrow?”
“I’m not standing in a damn department store window. I’m too out of shape.”
“Bull. You should have never left the business.” Trudie glanced at Dallas’s hands again. “Your nails suck, but other than that you’re every bit as pretty and—”
“I’m twenty-nine.”
Trudie’s mouth twisted wryly. “There’s that.”
Dallas stood. “Moot point. Are we doing dinner or not?”
“Look, my career’s on the line here.” Trudie hesitated. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.”
“Have you even tried to find someone else?”
“Yes. I swear.”
Dallas sank back into the chair. She believed her. Trudie wasn’t one to ask for favors. Even after her jerk of a boyfriend had moved out along with half of Trudie’s furniture and the next month’s rent, she hadn’t asked Dallas or Wendy for a thing. Hadn’t accepted anything that was offered either.
“Come
