Pretty Claws, Pretty Clothes, Pretty Close
It was magnificent? Our third grade art project? I knew fashion, like art, was subject to personal perspective, but he really had to be kidding. It pulled our butts out of the fire, though, so I wasn’t going to complain and neither was Meg. I heard her slowly let out a breath of relief.
Arkady spoke slowly, like he was trying to whisper, but it came out a coarse shout. “Bring them to the show tomorrow. The short stubby one needs updating. Tell the tall one her feet look too big in flats. She should wear heels. Send both out to get cleaned up. Everyone except Reynaldo, leave me.” Arkady held out his arm and Reynaldo rushed forward to guide him to a chair. He pulled a rack of dresses forward, unzipping bags.
“Meg, Sharisse,” said Jeremy, gesturing toward the door with his head. Before we could think to mojo anyone, we were dutifully following him, pausing only when he closed the door behind him. “You guys are on a roll, but the next time you want to show that kind of initiative, please, give me a hint!”
Opportunity lost!
“Of course,” I assured him halfheartedly. “And we would’ve, but … there was no time.”
Meg exhaled slowly.
Jeremy looked at her. “Are you sure you’re okay? I know he can be harsh.”
She smiled and nodded, then squeezed his hand. She was getting way too personal.
“What happens now?” I asked as I moved a tad closer, trying to draw his attention.
Jeremy rubbed a hand over his face. “Mr. Romanov needs to approve the accessories for each ensemble before it can be taken to the Met. He and Reynaldo will be busy for a while. And, since I need to be there, you two can take the rest of the afternoon off.”
He looked at us critically. “You’ll need to wear something more appropriate to the show. Here.” He reached in his pants pocket and, from a gold clip with his initials and the House of Romanov design, slipped out a card and handed it to Meg. “Take the company credit card. Buy a few outfits.” He turned to me. “Look sharp. Be at the Met by seven p.m. And be prepared to work. Hard. You’re not his guests. He’s doing you a great honor. He never lets anyone close to him.” He gave us a rueful smile, although I noticed it lingered longer on Meg.
Okay. Not everyone preferred blondes. My revenge would be a whole makeover—on her.
“Then we need to get going,” I said imperiously. “I need time to work my magic on Meg. Shopping is serious business. See you at seven tomorrow.”
Using Jeremy’s card and dropping a few hints about the show and what could be hot for the summer, we were ushered into the Red Door Salon like pop princesses. Meg complained, but I brushed it all aside.
“They’re known for their discretion. With these hands”—I wiggled my ugly fingers at her, the nails thick and curving—“I need someone who won’t laugh. Or take secret pictures and sell them to the tabloids with the caption Secret Government Cloning Experiment Goes Horribly Wrong.”
We were escorted immediately back to a semi-private room, having chosen to get worked on together. We lay back in the ergonomic red-leather chaises. An icy blonde sporting a surgical mask worked on Meg’s feet, submerging them in a warm footbath. A stunningly beautiful Asian woman, also with surgical mask, held one of my hands.
“You have fungus?” she asked, examining my fingers. Thank God I’d skipped the pedicure. How can you explain bird toes without people, no matter how professional, calling Guinness?
“Something I must have picked up in Taipei. Maybe you’re familiar with it?”
Totally nasty, yes, but it hurt me to see my once-cute toes and fingers looking like something off the dino skeletons at the Museum of Natural History. For this alone I hated Hades. The deal we were forced into was an added incentive to despise him—his good looks, omnipotence, and tight butt notwithstanding.
The woman shook her head and got to work. Aromatherapy candles of nutmeg and oranges and a CD playing rain and thunderstorms soothed us. As the technician lathered up our faces for a scrub, I asked Meg, “How do you like it?”
“It’s too weird having people play with my feet, and hands, and face.”
“Sit back, relax, and enjoy the pampering. I doubt Had—” I cut myself short before I said his name. “I doubt he has these facilities where he lives.” The technician was struggling to smooth my claws. “God, I hate long nails!”
Meg’s voice was muffled as the woman scrubbed off dead facial skin. “Don’t feel so bad. I’m waiting for someone in the office to tell me to go on a diet. That skirt that he arrayed me in yesterday was a whole size bigger than what I usually wear.”
“Like these are attractive,” I wiggled my claws at her. Dragon lady nails.
“You have the rest of the package.” Meg sounded a little forlorn.
“Curvaceous body, sparkling blue eyes, and a quick wit. Cry me a river. But by the time I’m finished with you, even you-know-who will be panting in your direction.”
Meg narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
I could feel the tension in her voice. I glanced down; she was gripping the chair arms tightly.
“You’re here for the complete makeover, ma Meg. You’re going to knock the breath right out of any guy and leave him begging for scraps of your attention.”
Maybe Hades would come on to her for a change. Him, or someone at the show. That will leave me to comfort Jeremy. There’s still a chance.
“Come on, Shar.” Meg shook her head, “That’s not going to happen.”
“You have a lot going on for you. Ditch the mourning clothes and you might see it.”
“Why are you doing this for me?” Her voice was whisper soft.
“Because (a) you’re my roomie, and I have standards if you want to be seen with me, and (b) Arkady told us to ‘clean up,’ although I’m sure he was talking more about you. I’m always put together. And (c) one of us should find a Prince Charming. It might be you. So shut up and take it like a trouper.”
“Thanks, Shar.” Meg reached over, clasped my hand, and gave it a squeeze. I tried not to feel guilty about my ulterior motive.
“Let’s see if you still feel that way after these ladies are done!” I smiled to myself. Eyebrow wax!
Three exhausting hours later, we stumbled out. Except for where she’d feathered out, Meg had been buffed, scrubbed, exfoliated, and moisturized to within an inch of her life. Her short and razored haircut emphasized her blue eyes, and the makeup job made her skin glow. Maybe I’d been too thorough with her makeover; she looked unbelievable.
I felt pretty good myself. The nail technicians had made the claws less obvious with a dull skin-tone polish. They couldn’t cut them because not only would they grow back, but now they’d hardened and were too tough. Hades’ doing. But for now they were shaped and doable.
Squinting through my dark glasses now that we were out on the street, I said to Meg, “I’m tired, and it’s too late for the boutiques. Let’s head back to the apartment and go clothes shopping in the morning. Then we’ll head over to the show.”
Meg shrugged listlessly.
We hailed a cab, stuffed our bags of beauty and bath products into the back seat, and rode in silence back to the apartment. Once chic, the penthouse now felt cold and almost forbidding. We ordered the latest chick flick on pay TV and Thai from the restaurant across the street, then settled in for the night. Before bed, Meg handed me the iPhone.
“Look, way down at the bottom of the list—it says there’s a portal in the Met. It’s not in the main area, see, it’s over by the back offices. We can get him there.”
“You think? If our luck holds true, we’ll be eating out of bowls with the hell hounds,” I grumbled. But it was hard not to let her enthusiasm get to me. There was a portal on the same floor, in the same wing, where we were going to be.
The next day was a flurry of activity. By nine a.m. we were showered, dressed, made up, and out the door.
“So are they waterproof, like a duck’s?” I asked while we stood outside waiting for a taxi. A light snow had fallen and the Christmas decorations felt almost depressing. It was the end of the holiday, one which I usually enjoyed, but too many unsettling things had happened. This was one vacation I would be glad to finish—if everything worked out successfully.
“What?”
“Are the feathers waterproof? Does water just slide off them, like with ducks and swans?”
Meg glared. “Do your talons keep your meat from running away? What do you think?”
So much for making light of the situation. Meg was her old self. “Well, if I knew, I wouldn’t be asking, would I?”
“Sorry.” She gave her head a shake. Her newly shaped tresses waved cutely. “I guess I’m a little anxious about this evening. I keep imagining every conceivable disaster.”
“What happened to ‘we can get him there’?” I reminded her. “But I understand; creepy old man, portals, eternal servitude. Oh, and a completely new look. It’s a lot for one night.”
A cab pulled up. “Where to?” asked the driver.
“Downtown, 9th and 14th please,” I answered. I leaned closer to Meg. Her earth-friendly hair spray had a pretty vanilla scent and seemed to have a masking effect on the dander. I whispered, “I’m never setting foot in Henri Bendel again after what happened last time. We’re probably on security tapes and posters.”
She nodded grimly.
A few minutes later, the cabbie deposited us in front of a line of boutiques.
“I know we’ll find you something good, even if it’s black,” I assured her as we walked into the first shop.
Of course I found a ton of things for myself. For the show I chose a long black skirt with a silver overblouse. I also had to get a sleek pair of gray pants that caught my eye, and a light blue button-down shirt and a long black jacket to go with it for the office. For something fun I chose flared jeans with a beautiful greenish-gray sweater. Fortunately, I’d managed to find good-looking black stiletto boots that actually fit at a store that carried larger, wider sizes. For transvestites. It was a relief to be out of the mangy sneakers I’d been sporting. I stocked up, buying a dozen pairs of shoes. I was almost in my happy place.
After that, I dragged Meg to some cute boutiques where we found a flowing black skirt with a sleek tailored jacket to cover her feathered areas. And of course I got something for myself too—a slinky, revealing turquoise halter dress. Her feet, damn her, were still normal, and I was surprised when she chose a pair of butter-soft Chie Mihara Victorian boots—in lavender. There was hope for her yet.
“Who’s Mary Poppins now?” I teased as she twirled around.
Meg started to tear up. Uh oh. Guess I went too far. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to—”
Meg shook her head. “No, I’ve never had anyone do so much to make me feel special. All this”—she motioned to her new clothes—“and this whole situation …” She sniffed, took a deep breath, and looked me in the eyes. She smiled. “Thanks.”
I’d never seen Meg emotional. Or at a loss for words. She was the rock; I was the slobbery one. It added to the guilt I felt—since my goal had only been to get Jeremy to notice me if men or gods were all over her.
“Well,” I said awkwardly, “not just anybody can be seen with me.”
Meg laughed, breaking the tension.
I led her over to a glass case. “Okay, while we look at accessories, I’ll cry over my ugly feet and you’ll think how we can get Arkady to that portal.” I had to get my mind off Jeremy and onto the task.
But neither of us came up with anything. Meg pointed out that we’d need to know where Arkady was in relation to the portal in order to figure out how to get him there.
“What if in the end he won’t go?” Meg sighed.
I didn’t want to think about that. Hades’ interest in me wasn’t innocent. I doubt I’d be the Tartarus dogsitter for long; more like dogmeat, and Hades the hungry puppy.
After we loaded up, thanks to Arkady’s beneficence, on satin headbands, lacey gloves, and evening bags, we went back to the apartment and got dressed. At 6:45 p.m., we were standing in front of the Metropolitan Museum.
“Let’s go,” Meg said, striding forward. I could see the determination in her step. Jeremy was in the atrium directing models, makeup artists, and dressers to the staging area. I saw him look at Meg, do a double take, seem to forget what he was doing, and look again.
This was not how it was supposed to go down!
“Please tell me it was worth my suffering,” I quipped, sliding up to him in front of Meg. The inevitable glasses were back on.
“Your suffering?” said Meg, pulling even with me. “Who had their eyebrows waxed, their face poked and squeezed, their—”
Jeremy started laughing. “I’m glad I’m a guy. Getting my hair cut and putting on eyeliner once in a while doesn’t involve pain.” He sobered and gazed at Meg. “But you look incredible.”
“We thank you,” I said, brushing past. I needed to find a crowd of admirers for her. “Where do we go?”
Jeremy nodded, still not taking his eyes off Meg. “Down to the Egyptian Temple. There’s a work area set up behind the runway. I’ll be down in a few, but Reynaldo’s there and he’ll get you working.” He winked, and with reluctance went back to his clipboard.
And work we did. We lifted boxes, soothed cranky super models, fetched chilled water and snack bars for the technicians, and generally ran our butts off. I kept my head down, avoiding all eye contact with guys. I noted that Meg was keeping her mouth shut, despite the looks she kept getting from all quarters. If she had a slip-up, I didn’t see any evidence of it.
When Jeremy finally came down, he hustled over to Meg and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle. I approached them only to hear him say, “Meg, would you get the duffle with the extra accessories, please? It’s somewhere in the mess in the hall.”
She hopped to do his bidding—the perfect time for me to catch him alone. He was talking on his cell, giving last-minute instructions to the lighting crew. I snagged a bottle of cold water and a sandwich for him from a food table and waited patiently for him to finish his conversation. He stuffed the phone in his shirt pocket and turned to me.
“Here.” I held out my humble offerings.
“Thanks, just the water.” He twisted the bottle open and slugged down a good half. I returned the plastic-wrapped sandwich to the platter and gave him a bright smile.
“So is, um, everything going okay?” I didn’t know what else to say. Hades was right; Meg was the glib one. She could hold a riveting conversation with a telephone pole. Me? I had trouble unlocking my tongue fast enough to keep up with my brain. If I’d been more erudite, Meg and I would have had our girl talk long before the ill-fated sample sale and I might have talked her into letting me have the red shoes. And my life would not include the very real possibility of chasing dog-slimed rubber balls and filing down talons.
Jeremy swiped his mouth on his black linen shirt sleeve and looked at me quizzically.
“Yeah, good so far, but the show hasn’t begun and there’s always at least one catastrophe. I think med students get more sleep than I do.”
His elfin grin was too cute.
“I’ll help you,” I offered shyly, stepping toward him.
His look became guarded. “You and Meg are a big help.” His head swiveled around as he moved away. “What’s taking her so long?”
Not too subtle, Jeremy.
“I’ll go help her,” I said stiffly.
“Uh, thanks.”
I flipped a careless wave that said I don’t care. I would not tear up. It was hard to swallow; my throat felt tight. Rejected! Why?
I found Meg, and two minutes later, with minimal conversation, we located the duffel. She ran it to Jeremy. I stayed back, eyeing them coolly. I watched his eyes flicker over her. He touched her hand before he hastened away. I tried to put the image out of my mind. Meg went right back to work, apparently unaware that she’d just won the grand prize.
When the runway show was about to begin, Meg and I sat on a trunk, sipping water. There were to be no noises from backstage until the music started. Now more than ever, I wanted this over with. I didn’t want any more close or semi-close encounters with Jeremy again if I could help it. And there was only one way to ensure that—get rid of Arkady.
“Where’s Mr. Romanov?” I whispered to Reynaldo, who was winking and flirting with the hair stylist. “He did come, didn’t he?” I poked him to get his attention. “Reynaldo?”
“What?!” he snapped, annoyed at the interruption.
“Mr. Romanov. He’s here, right?”
“He’s watching the show by live feed from an office.”
“Won’t he bow and wave at the end?”
Reynaldo looked horrified. “Never! Go into that room with all those people? Who knows what germs could be out there?” He turned back to smile at Andre. I doubt that was his real name—so Euro. I’ll bet his real name was Myron. Or Charlie.
When Reynaldo walked away, Meg whispered to me, “The offices! This couldn’t be more perfect! He’s already back there!”
“Sure, but how are we going to get back there?” I snapped, a little unfairly. Jeremy’s diss wasn’t her fault. “We’re supposed to stay here until we’re needed.”
“I’m sure we’ll think of something.” Meg didn’t look too sure, but maybe inspiration would hit one of us.
Music suddenly blared, making everyone jump and signaling the start of the show. We were on call, to sit there until summoned. In the meantime, I enjoyed the chance to just sit. Surprisingly, my bird feet were holding up well. But I’d trade them for two human feet loaded with blisters and boils and broken toes.
The Temple was the backdrop for the show, the theme being Egyptian Goddess. All the models were dressed in form-fitting bronze, deep lapis, and coral silk sheaths. The last dress, with Meg’s feathers all over it, would be the climax. I couldn’t help being excited. This was where I wanted to be—just under different circumstances. More specifically, not fresh off a rejection, or trying to eye up a mummy, or keeping temptation at arm’s length. Suddenly, I thought, I can’t wait to start classes at FIT. It would be a different life, a new start. If I survived this whole mess, maybe Jeremy would give me a reference—even if he wouldn’t give me anything else.
I found myself tapping my feet to the heavy beat of the techno music that blared out of the backstage speakers. It was making the floor vibrate. Was this what Meg and Jeremy subjected themselves to at those club shows? No thanks.
I recognized the song. It was something Meg played in our dorm room. Glancing at her, I saw that her eyes were closed and her head swayed in perfect rhythm with the music. Her lips mouthed the words. I stopped staring at her and scanned the room. Jeremy was standing by the stage door, doing the exact same thing. The exact words, the exact same sway. It was almost eerie.
After a few moments, he opened his eyes and searched the room, stopping when his gaze found Meg still in her music-induced trance. Slender models with taut limbs and perfect faces passed in front of him, but he didn’t notice them. He only saw Meg, and his eyes drank her in. I’d seen the look before. He really liked her. They’ve only exchanged a handful of words since we reconnected … I bit my lip and looked away.
The evening wore on, and the show seemed to be a success. Near midnight, Jeremy spoke to the audience and wrapped things up with a champagne toast, finger foods, and gift bags, and then Reynaldo came running over, out of breath. His makeup was starting to smudge.
“Jeremy sent me to tell you that Mr. Arkady needs ice, glasses, and two diet sodas brought to him. NOW. The Director’s office, just down the hall. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. I can’t believe he hates the hair!” He moaned and sniffed as he screamed at Andre. Meg shot me an excited smile.
We hopped off the trunk, rounded up everything, and made our way through the backstage maze. We ran, as fast as a girl can run in stiletto-heeled boots carrying a bag of ice, to the office. Meg knocked on the door.
Jeremy answered. “Hey you two.” He refused to look at me.
Wimp! I was the embarrassed one, the one who got rejected!
He stepped back to allow us in. Arkady was sitting at a massive oak desk, surrounded by TV monitors, his back to us. There was no sound except his raspy breathing.
“Put it all on the table, please,” said Jeremy, reaching for the vibrating phone in his pocket.
“Let’s do it now,” said Meg’s low voice in my ear. There was only Arkady and Jeremy. This would probably be our best chance. Maybe our only chance.
I nodded. I pointed to Arkady, then to myself. I’d handle him; I’d leave Jeremy to her. She nodded, regret etched in her eyes. It was a sneaky, mean thing to have to do, kind of like hypnotizing him against his will. But enthralling Jeremy seemed too intimate for me to do now. Besides, if he had a choice, it was too obvious he’d choose Meg to vamp him. And that left me with Arkady. I felt the bile rise in my throat. I was not touching him!
Jeremy grabbed the doorknob. “I’ve gotta run. Reynaldo’s flipping out over the hair situation. You two set up the drinks and leave. Lock the door behind you.” He shouted in Arkady’s direction, “I’ll be right back, Mr. Romanov.” Mummy man didn’t notice. Jeremy ran out.
Was our luck beginning to change? Meg looked at me and nodded almost imperceptibly. The TV monitor had a special screen which magnified the images immensely. With hesitant steps I walked around to the front of the desk so that I was facing Arkady. Even though he was alone and the room was warm, he was enveloped as usual in a fedora hat, Burberry scarf, and Italian leather gloves. But he wasn’t wearing his thick, reflective glasses. I removed mine and gave him the full stare.
“Get up,” I commanded. I wanted to say something nastier to him, considering he’d called Meg stubby and said I had big feet. But nothing came to mind.
Meg’s voice was sultry, beguiling. “It’s time to go. Hades is waiting.” How could anyone resist her?
Arkady never flinched, although he did sway in his chair trying to see around me.
I leaned down so that when his gaze shifted, he’d see only me.
Meg leaned over the desk. “Come with us. Now!” she yelled.
“Eh?” His head bobbed up and he looked confused. I was so close to him now, I could see that his eyes were milky white. It brought back the horrifying images of when my cat died. Her eyes had glazed with the same opaqueness. With a palsied hand, he brushed us away.
He was deaf and practically blind.
“Hmmm. Having a bit of trouble, ladies?”
We jerked up.
Hades was looking at some Mayan artifacts. The disdain on his face was clear. “Primitive junk,” he muttered before turning to us. “But you look stunning, mon coeur.” His eyes flickered appreciatively over me. I felt chilled to the bone. “And Margaret. Good improvement.”
He was so rude.
“Need a little help?” His smile was evil and slick.
“Our powers won’t work on someone who can’t hear or see us, Hades.” Meg sounded only mildly perturbed. This meant she was ready to explode at any second.
“I must have forgotten to mention that. How remiss of me.” Hades dragged a finger along the cases, grimaced at the light coating of dust, and conjured a wet cloth to wipe his hands. With a careless flick, it was gone.
“I thought you said that Arkady made a deal with you for longevity,” I retorted. I gritted my teeth to keep myself from calling him the words my mother would disown me for.
His eyebrows raised. “He did. And I gave him longevity. Arkady is pushing 349 years old. It would be 350 next month.” His grin was malevolent.
“But look at him!” said Meg, backing away a pace. “He looks like he’s been dead for at least a hundred years!”
Hades’ smile was expansive. “He asked for a long life. He got it. He didn’t stipulate that he wanted to remain youthful. It’s always the little details one must remember. Be careful what you wish for—that’s our motto.”
So all those strange treatments weren’t for staying healthy—rather, Arkady was trying to turn back the clock. What a revelation that was.
Hades made a full circle of the office, barely glancing now at the books and objects on the shelves and tables. “You’re not using your gifts to their full potential,” he said softly. “Come, girls, surely your wiles and imagination and natural charm should make this easy.”
Like anything connected to him or this whole deal could ever be easy. Meg and I remained silent.
“If you need my assistance, tell me. But it will cost you.”
That last bit was directed at me.
I exhaled sharply. I was tired, I’d been rejected by Jeremy, and I didn’t want to be played with anymore.
“You’re here, just take him now,” I snapped. “It’s not like he’d notice. Then we all go home and everyone’s happy.”
Hades looked taken aback. “That would violate your contract. You have to do this. Or, are you conceding?” He held out a graceful hand like he wanted me to waltz with him. “Then we shall leave.”
Meg screamed “No!” and slapped his hand away. “We’ll do it! Just go away!”
His eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned.
Angry God plus Big Mouth Roomie equals Dire Consequences.
We were screwed yet again.