He shuddered inside at Madame's wide-eyed surprise and fumbled ahead. “No disrespect, Madame. I know Bay Dra-da has one of the best troupes in the state. But ... you know, designing for y'all and designing for ...” He squinted, struggling to articulate himself. Unable to stop the reflex, he shrugged and ignored Madame's pinched-face disapproval. “I don't know. Somebody like Versace or even Ralph Lauren. It's not like I'm
that
good.”
Madame chuckled. “You are humble, Michel. That's what I love about you. I don't know what Versace or Ralph Lauren or any other company might want in a young designer.” This time she shrugged and winked to bring Michael into the inside joke, before turning serious once more. “But I know the talent you have could take you far.”
The lilt of Madame's accent soothed Michael. There was something musical in her words, the way “humble” was “umble,” “Lauren” was “Lah-wren” and “designer” was “dee-zign-air.” His brain finally got around to piecing together what she'd said instead of how she'd said it, and a shy smile played on his lips.
“You know Madame Zora, no?” Madame Jessamay said.
Michael nodded, knowing the question needed no verbal answer. Of course he knew Madame Zora. She was Madame Jessamay's best friendâif that's what grown women still called themselvesâand the costumer for the Players. She was a former model/graduate of some fancy fashion school in Paris. She had a scar that ran from her eye to the corner of her mouth, a nasty gift courtesy of an overzealous fan at a fashion show that ended her modeling career and sent her on a soul-searching journey ending in Del Rio Bay.
Whenever Michael was around her, and the madames weren't looking, he stared at the scar, fascinated by the price she'd paid for beauty. It was only a faint, dark line now, but one that would cost magazines a mint to airbrush, were she still a model. It also stood out like a Glow Stick in the night when she was angry, embarrassed, or excitedâa raised, odd seam in the middle of her crimson cheeks.
With Madame Jessamay's blessing, Michael had assisted Madame Zora on a few outfits over the summer. And when things were particularly busy at Bay Dra-da and the sewing room didn't allow for chaotic alterations, Zora let them use her workroom. So yes, he knew Madame Zora. He looked on, curious, as Madame Jessamay continued.
“Zora sits on the admissions committee of the Carter School.” She nodded in affirmation as she asked, “You've heard of it, no?”
Michael did. His boy Rob was a student there.
“It's the school of performing arts in DC,” he said.
“Yes, that is the one.” Madame waved, as if already mentally past the point. “Every year, Zora asks me to nominate Bay Dra-da's most promising students. The Carter School's music and dramatics programs are the best in the country. But so few of the parents here, in Del Rio Bay, are interested in the life of a struggling artiste for their child, no?” She and Michael chuckled an insider's laugh. Her hand waved dismissively again. “Dramatics, it is okay for school, but not profession, some parents say. Zora, she's so angry that I never have good candidates to pass. She thinks I'm holding out on her, afraid of angering Mr. Collins by sending his best talent to Washington.” She snickered. “But maybe there is hope yet.”
Madame scooted off the stool. She walked over to the dress, touched the ruched bow under the bodice, and turned to face Michael. “The Carter School has a program for aspiring designers. It is new. A ...” Madame's eyes rolled to the right as she worked for the proper word. “A trial,” she said, eyes shining. She walked over and stood by Michael's chair. “The school is not yet sure fashion design is an art per se, not by their definition anyway. But Zora is a persuasive person and one of the school's patrons. So they are willing to take her word that a program of this nature could benefit them. Zora, she's impressed with your work. It is your work that convinced her that such a program for students so young would be a good thing.”
Michael listened, enthralled. His eyes locked with Madame Jessamay to glean the meaning behind her words.
“Applications for the first year are being accepted now until late February. It's an intense, three-part process. An application, interview, and runway review.” Madame smiled at the gleam in Michael's eye. She rushed on, spurred by his obvious interest. “If you were accepted, you would begin the semester in the summer.” She laughed at his frown, waving away his concern. “Yes, yes, it's blasphemy to take away a young person's summer, no? But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Michel. For the trial, the program seeks only high school seniors with a serious interest in fashion. You'll work with some of today's top labels and be mentored by fashion insiders. It's worth giving up six weeks, no?”
Michael nodded, not quite sure if he agreed completely. This was his last high school summer they were talking about. The Carter School was a performing arts school, but it was still a school. Classes were classes no matter how you dressed them up. The thought of trekking to Washington, DC,âa forty minute metro ride awayâevery day while the clique swam, ate pizza, and chilled on Cimarra Beach, made him feel even more isolated than he felt when they inevitably coupled off for the night.
Sequestering himself in his basement bedroomâthe manpart-ment, Mina called itâto doodle a new creation or piece one together while his friends canoodled at the movies or snuck in a hookup while the parents were out was one thing. Mandatory classes and sewing on demand while summer passed him by was another. He only half heard the rest of Madame's excited tale and was sure he'd promised to think about it over the holidays. He was sure he'd said it even though by then he hadn't meant it.
Ay Mon, No Worries
“Don't worry about a thing.”
âBob Marley, “Three Little Birds”
Â
Â
T
he sound of Bob Marley drifted through Seventh Heaven's, making Mina drowsy. Still, she found herself mouthing the words, “let's get together and feel alright,” right along with the song. It was old-school reggae hour and Q'uan, Seventh Heaven's other DJ, was lost in the groove of his favorite song, eyes closed, swaying like a human leaf being blown by the song's melodic wind.
Mina bounced along with it, her knees bending up and down slowly, in time to the music, as she waited for her customers, a mother-daughter duo, to make up their minds between a pink cord mini on clearance and a full-priced khaki cargo skirt. They'd been battling over it for six minutes and twenty seconds; Mina knew because she'd eyed the clock on the register. And in her opinion, the khaki cargo was going to remain in the store. Mama Bear was adamant that it was too expensive.
She held a grin at bay as Sara walked by twirling her finger by her head to indicate the mother-daughter debate was crazy. As the back and forth raged on, Mina continued her slow bop. She'd never liked the song much until she'd realized Q'uan played it without fail as the last song of his old-school hour. Which meant their shift was coming to an end in exactly thirty minutes.
Today had been a good day. Between straightening racks and working the register, she'd been jumping since arriving at nine. The store buzzed with a steady flow of shoppers catching the after-holiday sales.
Everyone and their sister had gotten a Seventh Heaven gift card for Christmas and decided to use it today, during her shift. At least being busy made her shift fly by. Her time with Brian was slipping through her fingers at warp speed. They had only this weekend and New Year's Eve, five lousy days, and then he was back to Durham.
No matter how hard she lost herself in the moments they were together, it seemed like either curfew or time for her to head to work stared her in the face, whisking her away just as they'd gotten comfortable. She'd worked Christmas Eve, and Christmas night was a blur of them exchanging gifts before they both split to their respective family dinners. If she didn't think her parents (and Cheryl, her manager) would straight kill her, she'd go MIA on the job until Brian left for school on Tuesday.
“Miss, when will this skirt go on sale?” the mother asked, her frustrated, pinched face pulling Mina back into Seventh Heaven's. The daughter was equally as battle-weary and tears streaked her face. Apparently Mom had drawn “first blood” while Mina was daydreaming.
“I can't say for sure,” Mina said, in her best customer-friendly voice, smile frozen in place. “That skirt just came in yesterday. So probably not for a few weeks.”
“Well, fifty dollars for a skirt you can't wear for another three months is insane,” the mother said, turning her nose up at the offending item. She gestured to the mass of clothes at the register. “Tina, you already have over two hundred dollars' worth of clothes, right here.”
“Mom, it's my money,” the girl whined. “Aunt Cindy said I could buy what I wanted with it.”
Mina admired the girl's tenacity. She pegged her at about eleven years old, five years younger than the ideal Seventh Heaven's customer. If she'd been in the girl's place, her mom wouldn't even be in Seventh Heaven's much less arguing about which skirt she could have.
You go, girl,
Mina thought, rooting for the daughter to win, despite the odds. The mother's eyebrows were knitted so tightly they were one, and her jaw was rigid. She was digging in for that final ladle of “you can't have it because.” Mina could feel it.
I don't think you're going to win this one, baby girl.
Mina's heart leapt as the music switched from the slow drag of Bob Marley to a foot stomping Elephant Man track. Q'uan was trying to kill a sister switching tempos that fast, but she tapped her foot in time, happy to be one minute closer to her shift's end.
“Aunt Cindy isn't the one who has to explain to your father why you're wearing a thin cargo skirt in the middle of winter that cost fifty dollars,” the mother said. She plucked the skirt out of her daughter's hand and gave it to Mina. “We won't be buying this.”
Mina sent condolences to the girl with her eyes as she placed the skirt on the rack behind her.
“Just the cord skirt, these jeans, and these tee shirts?” Mina asked, gathering the clothes off the counter without waiting for an answer. Her hands automatically went about unhooking hangers, patting down the skirt for sensor tags, and folding the dozen tee shirts. She'd scanned the items in no time and just as she was reciting the total, Jacinta, Lizzie, and Kelly came in.
The pouty tween reluctantly handed over the plastic gift card. Mina ran the card through the register and watched as her friends scattered throughout the store, each shopping different areas. Sara and Kelly jabbered near the new shipment of skinny jeans. Mina tore her eyes away as the customer's receipt zipped out of the machine.
“You still have twenty-four dollars.” She handed the card back, passing the overstuffed bag across the counter to the girl. “If you wait about three weeks, the skirt will probably cost about that on sale.”
“Thanks. I'll be back,” the girl said, giving her mother a serious “try and stop me” look.
The mother's eyes rolled.
Mina smiled as the mom started her guilt trip. “Don't even think of asking for another piece of clothing until March.”
“March?” the girl exclaimed, trailing after her mom with the heavy shopping bag.
“Have a nice day,” Mina called after them.
The mom gave Mina a hurried wave as she lectured on out the front.
Mina cleared around the register, cluttered with tags and hangers, glad to be working the day shift. She had a good weekend on tapâall evening to kick it with Brian and the clique, a sleepover at Kelly's, and then to the DRB Varsity basketball tournament on Saturday.
It had been a long time since they'd all been together for an entire weekend. Mina's insides were jittery with excitement.
She scanned the area, making sure it was neat once more. A few customers milled about, browsing. Mina determined that none were likely to be checking out anytime soon, so she joined Lizzie and Jacinta at the tee shirt counter. Kelly and Sara wandered over, solidifying their obvious chat circle.
“I'm starving. Are the guys getting to Rio's Ria first and ordering the pizza?” Mina said, cocking her elbow on Jacinta's shoulder.
“They're supposed to,” Lizzie said. Her eyebrows shrugged. “Customer at one o' clock.”
Mina whipped around, smile on the ready. She stepped away from the group and closer to the woman.
“Miss, do you have this in blue?” The woman held up a plaid miniskirt with pleats.
“No. Just the pink plaid and the green plaid,” Mina said.
“That's crazy. How in the world is pink a universal color?” The woman stared down the rack with the candy-colored skirts, shaking her head. “I mean, the pink is cute, but I wanted a color that went with the tops my daughter already has.”
Mina nodded along, even though she wanted to blurt, “do you want it or not?” Instead she stayed rooted in the aisle while the woman weighed her options, nearly cheering when the woman sighed, handing the skirt over to Mina. “Thanks anyway. She just doesn't have enough to go with these colors.”
Mina threw the skirt back on the rack and jumped back into the conversation.
“Who are we talking about?” she said, not caring that she was breaking Seventh Heaven's number one rule, no fraternizing with friends on the clock. She only had ten more minutes anyway.
“Nobody,” Sara said. “I was telling them I just sent off my application to College Park.”
“When will you know if you get a cheer scholarship?” Mina said, genuinely curious. Even though she wouldn't have to worry about college apps until next fall, she was already narrowing her choices. College Park was among them because cheerleading was considered a Division I sport there and they provided scholarships.
Mina had never seriously considered going to school there until Sara began talking it up, because the competitive squad was separate from the cheerleaders who cheered games. She loved both aspects of cheerleading and was torn about strictly competing. Still, money for school was money for school. She was curious about the University of Maryland, College Park even if lately her college choices fell much closer to Duke, for obvious reasons.
“I probably won't know about the scholarship until spring,” Sara said. She absently straightened a few hangers, pushing them so they were exactly two inches apart. “But College Park is cheaper than Florida State, and you know it's all about cost for me and Jess.”
“I know your parents are bugging having to pay for two of you at the same time,” Jacinta said.
“Totally. Right now they want us both to go to UMCP and commute from home.”
There was a collective groan from the girls.
“Just when you think you're getting outâ” Mina mimed fishingâ“they reel you back in.”
The girls' laughter was loud but no competition for Q'uan's super dance hall mix. The walls practically vibrated from the bass.
Spying Cheryl on the floor, Mina scurried a few feet away and organized the miniskirts, making them orderly and color coordinated. The girls scattered. Sara stood nearby, refolding a perfectly folded tee shirt.
A dark-skinned guy walked into the store and made a beeline for Mina. He was wearing a fitted tee and a pair of dark wash jeans snug around his small waist, but casually loose around his thighs. She saw him and he saw her seeing him, so he smiled bright as if they knew one another.
He was good-looking, about five feet six or seven, hair in a low cut. As he got closer Mina saw his arms were much larger and chest broader than she'd expect on someone so thin.
“Hey. You're Mina, Mike's friend, right?” the guy said when he stopped, standing between Mina and Sara.
“Yeah. Hi,” Mina said. She gave Sara a confused side glance.
“I'm Rob,” he said.
“Ohhh,” Mina said. She grinned, embarrassed. “I thought you looked a little familiar.”
“Yeah, I saw you looking like, who is this dude acting like he know me.” Rob imitated the look on Mina's face. “Mike talks about you all the time. And I've lurked around your Cool Peeps page a few times.” He pointed at Mina's promise ring. “The pictures of the ring were cute.”
“Thanks. Michael talks about you too,” Mina said, though careful not to say “all the time.” Because Michael didn't. Usually only a mention here and there, but otherwise, Rob McQueen was merely a name and a few photos posted on his Cool Peeps page. “He said you have a hella crazy schedule.You go to the Carter School, right?”
Rob's eyes lit up as he nodded. “Yeah. My schedule can get crazy, but I think Mike just likes keeping you to himself. I've been wanting to introduce myself since I saw you at the Cove party that time a billion years ago.” He gestured to the mall. “I had to get some new kicks and I saw you from in the mall. So I was like, let me go finally meet the diva.” He chuckled at Mina's embarrassed smile.
“Okay, that's
Mike's
name for me. I didn't ask to be called that.” Mina laughed. Hearing Sara's titter, she remembered her manners. “Oh, sorry. Rob, this is my friend Sara.”
Sara said a shy hi, and Rob waved to her as he said, “Girl, nothing's wrong with being a diva. Anyway, I'm glad I finally got to meet the Deev.”
“Are you busy tomorrow?” Mina asked.
Rob scowled in concentration. “No. Why?”
“We're all hanging out, having some pizza, then heading to Kelly's to chill.You should come,” Mina said. Rob seemed like he'd fit in with the rest of the crazies.
“Now, who is Kelly, again?”
Mina pointed across the store. “Fly little Latina mami, over there. She lives in Folger's Way.”
“Umph, Mike be hanging out in Folger's?” Rob's eyebrow shot up. “Boogee much.”
He and Mina laughed. Sara chuckled politely.
“Don't get it twisted, it's actually going to be Mike's first time there,” Mina said.
“Oh, I was ready to say, I didn't know he rolled with the ballers like that.”
Mina put her hand on Rob's shoulder. “We're just gonna be tripping, hanging out. Stop by.”
“What? The diva isn't tipping off to be with her man, solo, tomorrow?” Rob said.
Mina scowled. “I need to get on Mike spreading my business. For real, though, me and Brian probably will chill later that night. But Mike would trip if we all coupled off too early.”