Indija frowned at Joi. “Then where do you get your feathers?”
Joi paled at the sound of Indija’s sharp tone. “I buy legally on line, when I can afford it. Most times, I search them out. My uncle Bernie and his friends raise domesticated chickens for show at stock shows. Their feathers are legal. Some have gorgeous plumage.” She pointed to the necklace Indija still wore around her waist. “Those are from his Black Breasted Red Phoenix Rooster. Of course, I got to clean them good. Birds carry parasites such as mites and lice and diseases, too.”
“Eeek!” Kamiska dropped the necklace she’d been admiring and stepped back.
“It’s okay. I work them real good. First with mothballs and then soak them in a fifty/fifty mixture of Isopropyl alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. Then I wash and dry them with a hair dryer.”
“Girl, your face is pink. Bet that’s the most words you spoke all week.” Indija offered her a small smile as Joi went scarlet.
“My granddaddy raises pheasants for restaurants over by Sherman.” One of the women who’d collected her batik purses approached Joi. “I could get you feathers.”
“Me too.” Kamiska leaned down next to Joi. “My cousin volunteers part-time in the bird area at the zoo. She’s always bringing home something weird, an ostrich or a parrot feather. She says they molt. Anyway, if you could get my buttlace ready by Saturday, I’ll supply you regularly with all sorts of exotic feathers.”
Joi beamed. “I’ll have to check on which ones I can legally own. But that would be nice.”
Carly sat back with a big smile as she listened to her artists toss around other ideas for Joi’s next collection.
One hour, two empty coffee urns, and several empty donuts boxes later, there were no strangers among the group of local artists. They were bartering and sharing expertise. Even better, three women had volunteered to help Carly repaint and paper Flawless.
Carly caught up with Indija as she was about to leave. “Got a minute?”
Indija looked at her friends. “Hit you later.”
When they were alone, Carly put on her all-business face. “You’ve got a rare creative gift, Indija. You look at one thing and see the possibilities of turning it into something else. But do you have to jackhammer your ideas into people?”
Indija rolled her eyes. “Made them listen.”
“Perhaps. I’d like to offer you a job, as my creative assistant.” Carly held up a hand. “But I’m not convinced you can handle it.”
“What do you mean? I just gave a person work. That Joi person was about to bolt and never come back.”
“You intimidated her. And, for the record, you expanded Joi’s collection, not changed it. That’s the kind of imaginative thinking I can use from a creative director. But if you work for me, you’ll have to work with every personality type. Your job would be to help keep Flawless’s offerings unique by challenging our artists to continually be better than they already are.”
“I can do that.”
“But will they let you? You know how you feel when someone disses your work?” The face Indija made said it all. “Pull that feeling out before you sit down at the table with whomever you’re working with from now on.”
Indija shrugged carelessly, but Carly could see her already thinking of things she might do. “Anything else?”
“Yes. You can’t be late. Ever. I don’t do diva. Been one and am so over it. If you’re late even one time, I’ll find someone else.”
Indija’s mouth twisted. “You said my talent is rare.”
“Not rare enough for me to deal with cheap grief from you. Don’t test me. I don’t want to lose you. And trust me, you don’t want to lose me. Meet me at Flawless at nine a.m. tomorrow.”
Indija struck an impatient pose. “You really save a man from a fire?”
Carly folded her arms and cocked a hip, giving attitude to attitude. “I really did. Is there anything else important you want to talk about?”
“How much I get paid?”
“Let’s see what you can do.”
*
Carly climbed the stairs to her apartment feeling energized by the morning. Things were back on track with Flawless. It would be weeks, maybe more than a month, before she could reschedule the grand opening. But there seemed a future now, one stronger for the interaction of the women she was trying to help. She should have remembered sooner. Better to teach a person to fish than simply bring them fish.
“Hey there, Ms. Reese. Just the person I want to talk to.”
Carly jolted to a halt with her foot on the top stair. Standing by her door was the CowTown Fire and Water Disaster guy. He wore his usual coveralls, and his cap, twisted around backward, covered his dark blond hair. “Cody, what are you doing here?”
“I come to talk to you. About some business,” he added as she continued to frown. “You got a minute? Because I’d surely like to get busy.”