At last the models began trickling in, and were immediately set upon by the army of stylists. Vincenzo Picco ordered everyone not involved with the show to clear the backstage area.
“Pardon me, sir.” Loup took hold of a recalcitrant photographer’s elbow. “Time to go. Mr. Picco’s orders.”
“Just one more… hey!” He gave her a startled look as he found himself being steered firmly and inexorably toward the exit.
“Okay. Bye-bye, now.”
After that came more standing around while everyone else worked frantically. There was a flurry of gossip surrounding the belated entry of one of the show’s top models, who ignored it to drift her way elegantly toward the stylists’ tables.
“Elise, you’re late!” a stylist snapped.
“Not for me, love,” she said complacently, blowing a kiss toward a scowling Vincenzo Picco. She caught sight of Loup and smiled. “Look at you! Are you supposed to be a bodyguard?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s just the cutest thing! Was it Vincenzo’s idea?”
“Um… no. I’m with Global Security.”
“That’s perfectly adorable.” The model gave her a one-armed hug and kissed her cheek, then looked startled. “Oh!”
“It’s not a gimmick, Elise,” someone called. “She’s a GMO.”
One of the other models glanced up from beneath a cloud of hair spray. “Honest to God?”
“Yeah, it’s true.”
Elise stroked Loup’s arm, then snatched her hand away. “It’s so odd! You feel like… I don’t know what.”
“I want to see!”
“Me too!”
Loup blinked, unsure how to respond to being surrounded by a sudden crowd of tall, curious models, touching her with the impersonal lack of self-consciousness of women used to being handled intimately by relative strangers.
“Ooh! It is odd!”
“Ever work with big snakes?” one model asked another, shivering a little. “I did a shoot with a Burmese python once. It’s sort of like that but completely different.”
“Basta!” Vincenzo Picco came roaring down on them, scattering the models. He railed in Italian until they sat obediently in their chairs.
“Sorry, sir,” Loup murmured.
His expression softened. He spoke to a breathless Alessandra, arriving on his heels.
“Vincenzo Picco says it’s not your fault. You may wait with your friend and bring caffè for him when he calls. Things will move very quickly now.”
“Okay.”
At the coffee station, Pilar eyed her. “You know, baby, I wouldn’t have wasted time worrying about Miguel Garza if I’d known you were gonna get petted by a bunch of models today.”
“Yeah, well, petted is about right. I think they thought that’s what I am. A pet.”
“Clive warned us you were just gonna be a novelty act,” Pilar said with sympathy. “I’m afraid there’s gonna be a lot more of that, baby.”
“I guess. Pilar, do I feel like a big snake?”
She smiled. “No, but you can sure as hell move like one when you feel like it.”
“Caffè!”
Despite the chaos, the show began almost on time. Pop music boomed in the main gallery as model after model sauntered onto the catwalk wearing whimsical creations. Backstage, frantic dressers rushed them through wardrobe changes. Quarrels broke out between members of Vincenzo Picco’s entourage and the hired assistants.
“Shit!” Loup watched a model in towering heels and a postmodern bridal gown begin to topple when someone stepped on her gown’s long tulle train. She hurried over and steadied the model as the train gave way with a pronounced rip. One of the Italians working on another girl shouted at the model’s dresser, who stormed off in a huff. The model glanced back at the ruined train and burst into tears.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” Pilar said in alarm. “You’ll ruin your makeup. Don’t worry, we’ll find someone to…” She glanced around and saw absolutely no one free to help. “Oh, fuck it. Loup, grab my purse.”
She was already on her way.
“Okay, hang on.” Pilar knelt and whipped out the hotel sewing kit. “I’m just gonna do a running stitch, but it’ll hold and it won’t even show that much with the netting. Okay, honey?”
The model sniffled. “Uh-huh.”
“Loup, get her a tissue.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“There.” Pilar finished as the casting coordinator beckoned frantically. “Go, go!”
They watched her go.
“Nice work, super-assistant,” Loup offered.
Pilar let out a sigh of relief. “Think I’d rather be a secret agent bodyguard. It’s less stressful.”
EIGHTEEN
Vincenzo Picco was very pleased.
The show was hailed as a raving success and celebrated at a raging after-party where the champagne and compliments flowed freely.
Pilar, off the clock, sipped champagne and watched the fashion people mingle. “Damn, baby. I wish you didn’t have to work. That’s no fair.”
“That’s the job,” Loup said pragmatically. “You get to dress up, look fabulous, and drink champagne, while I stand around looking like a waiter at a fancy restaurant.”
“It’s not that bad.” Pilar adjusted the lay of Loup’s collar, opening it wider. “You need a necklace. Something that would draw attention right here.” She traced a circle around the hollow of Loup’s throat.
“Mmm. Henry’s giving us a no-no look.”
“What? I’m not working!”
“Yeah, but I am.”
“Okay, okay.”
Sometime after midnight, the model from the bridal train near-disaster wandered over and delivered a heartfelt, drunken speech of thanks to Pilar, kissing her effusively on both cheeks. “You saved my life!” she slurred. “I thought you were a dresser. I didn’t know you were with the security people.”
“Well, kinda.”
“C’mon! You’ve got to meet everyone.” She tugged her hand, then took Loup’s. “You too. Everyone wants to.”
“I can’t.” Loup nodded at Vincenzo Picco a few feet away. “I’m working.”
“Ah, go on! He’s just a big old drama queen.”
Loup shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Pilar, you go.”
“You sure, baby?”
“Uh-huh.”
She watched Pilar meet and mingle with the happy, drunken throng, looking very much at home. It was after two o’clock when the party finally wound down and they escorted Vincenzo Picco and his entourage back to the hotel. He made a formal speech in Italian in the lobby, offering a courtly bow to all of them.
“Vincenzo Picco thanks you for your service,” Alessandra translated, sounding tired. “Especially you,” she added to Pilar. “He heard that you saved the postmodern bridal extravaganza.”
Pilar flushed. “Thanks.”
Alessandra smiled unexpectedly. “You did a good job, eh? We’ll see you in the morning.”
In the hotel room, Loup ransacked the courtesy bar, tearing open a bag of nuts.
“Aw, baby! You didn’t get enough to eat today, did you?”
“Nope.”
“Remind me to pick up some snacks,” Pilar said sleepily. “That way I can keep something on hand for you. Hey, Loup? Those models—”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, I don’t think any of them were prettier than you.” Loup poured the last of the nuts into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “And no, I don’t think any of them were Christophe’s one in a hundred. And no, even if they were, I wouldn’t care, because you’re the sexiest sidekick in the universe, and you worry about whether or not I have enough to eat, and I really, really, love you. Does that cover it?”
Pilar gave her a sheepish look. “Well, yeah.”
“Good.”
In the morning they escorted Vincenzo Picco, his entourage, and his collection back to the airport. He thanked them again and shook Henry’s hand, pressing folded bills into it. They watched him pass through security, then stride away toward his terminal, surrounded by his people, gray mane flowing.
“Nice work, team.” Henry doled out a one-hundred-euro note to each of them. “Nice tip, too.”
“Wow!” Pilar gazed at hers. “We get to keep this?”
“Of course.” He smiled at her. “You earned it.”
Back at the hotel they had a late lunch and debriefed with Clive, who beamed with pride over Henry’s report.
“So not a single cock-up, eh?” he asked.
“Honestly, no. The client was very pleased with their performance.”
“Vincenzo Picco was pleased,” Loup agreed.
“Mind your manners, girlie,” Clive said, but he was grinning. “You know what this means?”
They shook their heads.
“We’ve got a few more lessons to cover, but based on your performance so far, you two are pretty damn close to being made full-fledged members of the Global Security team.”
“Yay!” Pilar said happily.
After lunch they said their farewells to Henry and the security team and prepared to take an overnight train back to Aberdeen. Pilar ducked out to shop while Loup packed their things, returning with a stylish patent leather tote bag filled with energy bars and bags of mixed nuts and several glossy magazines.
“See?” She showed Loup. “Okay, the magazines are for me, but the snacks are for you. I’ll make sure I always have some with me. So if you ever get hungry on the job, just let me know.” She smiled. “Maybe a badass secret agent bodyguard can’t carry around a purse full of snacks, but I can.”
Loup hugged her. “Thanks, Pilar.”
