Plan C: Generosity
“Essence?” SSB giggled from inside her closet the next day. “She seriously wants you to belt out the word ‘essence’ at the end of the catwalk on Thursday?”
“I think so,” I shrugged, kicking off my shoes and climbing onto SBB’s bed.
My double-date with Alex, Camille, and Xander was tomorrow, the fashion show was in two days, Virgil was in three, and I was spending my last night “off” prepping SBB for her big night.
“Doesn’t she know models are meant to be seen and not heard?” SBB asked.
I nodded. “Unfortunately, the models seem to agree with you.”
SBB emerged from her closet with her jaw dropped open. “Are we talking model mutiny here?” she squeaked. “The only show I ever did with Valentino had a similar episode. It was then and there that I decided never to listen to anyone who called me a diva.” She wagged her finger at me as if I were arguing with her. “There is nothing worse than a model on a tirade. They can go from zero to ‘I quit’ in less time than it takes to say the word ‘essence.’”
“Well, hopefully it doesn’t get to that point,” I called out to SBB, who had disappeared back into her closet. “There seems to be drama everywhere these days. Apparently someone stole three thousand dollars out of the Thoney trust—and it sounds like it’s definitely one of the students.”
“Huh,” SBB called from the closet. “You wouldn’t think anyone at Thoney would need to steal.”
“I know, right?”
“Now, what am I looking for in here?” she said.
“Plan B,” I reminded her. “And then Plan C.”
I’d seen the amazing green dress SBB had picked out last week at Nanette Lepore for JR’s premiere on Thursday, but since she was the eternal over-preparer, she ended up buying not one, but two more options—just in case Ashleigh Ann Martin tried to pull a fast one on her on the red carpet.
There were some shuffling sounds from the closet, and then SBB slunk out in a fitted pink strapless gown very reminiscent of Cameron Diaz at the Oscars.
“Are you trying to be one of JR’s Angels in that?” I joked.
“Very punny, Flan,” she said, spinning around in front of her three-way mirror. “Is this Ashleigh Ann envy-worthy enough?”
“Absolutely. Either one would be perfect,” I said. I tried to imagine the scene on Thursday night—me, hiding out in the limo, with spare couture in both of my hands. It was hard to believe that by the time SBB would be smiling for the paparazzi, I would have just finished my own modeling jaunt downtown. I stifled a yawn at the thought of all this running around. I was definitely going to go into hibernation this weekend. In fact, I wondered whether I could squeeze in a quick nap before we started in on the Shakespeare SBB had promised to go over with me tonight….
“Flan,” SBB snapped in my face, bringing me back to reality. “I said, can you please remind me where you’re going to be stationed on Thursday?”
I tried to jog my memory. I had so many places to remember to be this week.
“Um, where you told me to be stationed—across the street from the Paris Theatre, right, in front of F.A.O. Schwarz?” Then, I started to rehearse the lines I’d been fed to keep SBB as levelheaded as possible. “I’ve got the portable steam presser and your aromatherapy relaxing oils in case you have to do a hectic costume change.”
SBB closed her eyes and looked slightly calmer.
“I’ll be Bassanio to your Antonio,” I said, trying another tack.
“Whoa!” SBB exclaimed, springing up. “Did you just say what I think you just said?”
I laughed and nodded. “I’m as shocked as you are,” I said. “I think I just made my first successful allusion to The Merchant of Venice. I can’t believe this stuff is actually starting to make sense to me.” I fingered the locket SBB had given me with the All that glisters quote engraved on it. “Probably has something to do with this good luck charm.”
SBB stuck a bare shoulder out of the closet. “No,” she said. “It has much more to do with the fact that you underestimate how smart you are. I knew you’d pick up Shakespeare quickly. It’s just like reading subtitles. After a while—”
“Stop right there—” I said.
“I’m just trying to explain—”
“No,” I said to my friend, who had emerged from her closet a third time in the most beautiful slate-colored tulle and organdy puff dress I’d ever seen. “I mean, stop and spin around so I can see how incredible that dress is. You look like you just hopped out of a fairy tale.”
“This one?” SBB scrunched up her face. “You really like it? Omigod, Shay literally dragged me to Zac Posen the other day after you left. She forced me to buy it. Threats were made.” SBB played Oscar-worthy victim so well. “Eventually, I was just so sick of arguing with her that I took it. But I’m not really sure it’s so me.”
She looked down and fingered the mass of soft fabric billowing out around her.
“It’s so beautiful,” I breathed.
“Well, Gloria has always liked the way I look in slate,” SBB mused. Then, again, she wagged the finger at me. “Not that I’m bending over backward to impress her, just so we’re quite clear.”
I put my hands up in surrender. “We’re clear. I’m just saying I love the dress.”
SBB looked in the mirror, and then back at me, and then in the mirror again.
“Level with me, Flan,” SBB said, sitting down next to me on the bed. “I’ve got these two other dresses for Thursday, right?”
“Right.” I nodded.
“And say AAM does show up in the same one as me, and I have to run and change.” She inhaled deeply and let it out, as if predicting the worst. “Well, it’s not like once I change, AAM’s going to have the same exact Plan B and race to her limo, too. I mean, our war has been waging for a long time, but I really don’t think she’s vindictive enough to go there, do you?”
I shook my head. “You’re probably right.”
“Two dresses are enough, then. And anyway, if Gloria does come through and grace us all with her presence, there’s a small chance I might be feeling daughterly, and so I’d want to hang with her and Jake together and not be spending all my time steaming gowns and aromatherapying in the limo with you.” She looked up at me. “No offense. That sounds fun for another night, maybe—”
“None taken, SBB.” I laughed, waiting to see where she was going with this. “You should definitely spend time with Gloria and JR together.”
“We’ll see about that. But my point is, Flannie, in a roundabout way … I’ve got this beautiful dress from Zac that you seem to like a whole lot. And you’ve got this very posh event on Friday night in which you must hold up your status as Virgil Host while simultaneously monopolizing the eyes of the Prince of New York.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I said, feeling a grin spread across my face.
“I’m saying that you’re the one who needs to look like you just hopped out of a fairy tale.” SBB leaned over me so I could help her unzip the dress. Then she slipped out of it and stood there in her Betsey Johnson lingerie. She handed me the dress. “Take my Plan C to Virgil as a thank you for all your help with my mania this week. I won’t take no for an answer!”
Holding the dress in front of me as I stood before the mirror, it was almost like magic: the field hockey clothes I was wearing seemed to disappear, and I did feel the whole fairy tale vibe coursing through me.
“You’re my fairy godmother, SBB,” I said. “I don’t know what to say.”
“And you’re mine, Princess Flannie,” she said, putting her arms around me. “So just say yes!”