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Chapter Three

Day two of our New York auditions starts tomorrow. The advance crew has done a fantastic job at thinning out the numbers and getting us the best candidates. Reid has embraced the role of assistant director, having taken charge completely. It was a good choice picking him for this project. Tamara has taken her role of the hard-ass to heart. I might need her to dial that back a bit.

Production Notes, Brian Merrick, Director

My ass was sore from all of the sitting. This was our tenth potential competitor of the morning, and the third time I’d been subjected to a designer gushing over Jennifer and Rene. I wasn’t a known quantity for many of these people. Fine. That didn’t mean I had to enjoy being ignored. I couldn’t blame my foul mood on that, though.

It was hot sitting under the lights on our little platform. The warehouse we were using as our filming location stank of mold and dust. Jennifer was wearing a perfume that made my head pound and my teeth ache. We’d been at this for a few hours now and we still had hours to go. If I survived, I was going to treat myself with an extra glass of wine back at my hotel room.

“Oh, the purple and yellow make for such a brilliant contrast!” Jennifer grinned at the latest contestant. “What color did you say you’d make the walls?”

The contestant’s name was Andrea and she had a pretentious air that had me clenching my teeth. “Pale lavender. It will make the accessories pop.”

I tried really hard not to roll my eyes, but I don’t think I managed. I’d have to get Brian to ask the postproduction team to edit that shit right the hell out. It was the least professional thing I could possibly do, not at all the image that I wanted out there. I might be a bitch on the show, but I didn’t need to be one in real life.

“What do you think, Tamara?” Rene asked me in a tone that would have put a diabetic into a coma.

The poor contestant didn’t deserve my wrath. It wasn’t her fault that this was the fifth purple-yellow-lavender mix we’d seen this morning. Nor was it her problem that I was still pissed that my scheduled meeting with Mr. Warner and Ms. Young had been canceled at the last minute. It was one thing to deal with costars who made no bones about disliking me; it was another when I wasn’t being taken seriously in a business deal.

Still, one look at the haphazardly thrown-together ensemble and ill-conceived layout, and I knew that she wasn’t going to make it past me to the next round of competition. “The colors look nice, but there’s nothing that really makes it stand out. Did you purchase those pillows or make them?”

Andrea paled. “Umm, yes. I bought them. Part of design is having an eye for what goes together.”

I leaned forward, and from that distance I was able to see that the price tag was still attached. “Next time you might want to consider going for quality over value. In this case the cheap finishing touches take away from the overall look. It looks as though you threw this together ten minutes before you arrived. I’m sorry, you don’t get a vote from me.”

Andrea looked as though she might cry, not exactly the reaction I’d wanted. But I saw how long and hard Sophia worked on her designs, trying to find the balance between value and curb appeal for our clients. The last thing I wanted to do was undermine the people who had a real talent for design by putting through someone who wasn’t up to par. Andrea was escorted off, and I hated to notice the tears in her eyes. Shit, I’d done that to her.

What the hell was the matter with me?

Up next was an older woman named Elsie, who looked as though she’d come straight out of the sixties. She’d wheeled in a mannequin that wore a set of drapes and had piles of pillows around its base.

Rene smiled at her. “Tell me, Elsie, what brings you here today?”

“I’ve always dreamed of working in a design house. Ever since I was a girl.” Her cheeks twitched as she smiled. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous.”

“Why don’t you show us what you have?” I wanted to keep my persona as cool as possible, but it was hard in the face of her obvious nerves.

“I wanted to pay tribute to my family so I incorporated our tartan colors while bringing the pattern into the twenty-first century.” Elsie’s voice shook almost as much as her hands as she showed us the stitch work and explained how she used her hundred-dollar limit on her supplies.

Rene and Jennifer smiled, but the questions they posed to Elsie showed they didn’t see her as a contender. Rene went so far as to lean forward while inspecting the drapes. “It’s such an unusual shade of green.”

“Not something you’d see in a formal living room,” Jennifer said in a tone so dismissive I was embarrassed for the contestant.

Whether it was from their snark or the pain in my ass, I got to my feet and moved around to get a better look at the display. The fabric was excellent quality and the stitch work was damned impressive. Small neat stitches that had a slightly irregular spacing.

Straightening, I kept my face neutral as I turned to Elsie. “Did you do this by hand?”

“Oh yes. I have a machine, but there’s something satisfying about draping the fabric across my lap while I work the needle.”

“And you said this is your tartan. If you were to take this to market, how would you target your sales?”

Elsie blinked at me, a vaguely panicked expression on her face.

“What I mean is, who would you sell this to? Who would be interested?”

“Oh!” Her grin made her eyes sparkle. “My grandson set up a website for me. I’ve started reaching out through genealogy sites and making my drapes and pillows available to members of our family.”

I tried to keep my smile at bay, but failed. “That is an excellent strategy. Thank you, Elsie.” I took my seat once more as Elsie was escorted out.

Brian clapped his hands. “Okay, everyone, let’s take a break for fifteen minutes before the next group comes in.”

Jennifer turned to me. “I can’t believe you seriously thought that was a good design.”

“It wasn’t for me, but her idea was solid and the business potential was huge.” I marked Elsie’s file as a possible for the next round of the show. “Our job is to find the savviest new designer, not decorate our homes.”

Jennifer sniffed and half turned so there was no mistaking that I wasn’t invited to participate in the rest of her conversation with Rene. Sure, I wasn’t the designer from my company, but I wasn’t an idiot, either. I could tell an innovative design, a keen creative eye and solid skill set better than most. So I wrapped my Ice Queen mantle firmly around myself and pretended I didn’t care that I was being ignored. Even though I did.

I took out my tablet and pulled up my business plan. I’d make use of the meeting delay to continue to fine-tune our proposal. I adjusted my projected budget and timelines, giving us wiggle room while not promising something we wouldn’t be able to deliver. They’d put me off until the day after tomorrow, when we had a break in shooting. Mr. Warner’s assistant had reassured me that none of the other proposals had been seen either, and that this wasn’t a slight against our company.

A cup of coffee was set in front of me, dragging my attention up from my budget breakdown. I was mildly surprised to see Reid standing there and a row of coffee cups in front of us.

“Ladies, I thought you could all use a refill. Rene and Jennifer, I wasn’t sure how you take it, so I brought cream and sugar.”

“Aren’t you a sweetie.” Jennifer leaned forward far enough even I could see down her shirt. “Thank you so much.”

I was mildly surprised when instead of black my coffee was a milky brown. “Mine’s already dressed.”

Reid pressed his hand to his heart. “You take it cream with one sugar, right?”

“Thanks.” I cautiously sipped my offering and sighed as strong, hot coffee washed over my tongue.

I’d pretty much ignored him since filming had started. Well, as much as I could, given our respective roles as judge and assistant director. Reid was a constant presence on the set, his voice always present even when I couldn’t see him. It was strange how quickly I’d gotten used to hearing him again, how much I’d missed him in my life. Not that I regretted our breakup for a moment. Three years ago we’d been bad for each other, fighting constantly. This Reid was far calmer, happier than he’d been back then.

He was clearly better off without me.

“How many applicants do we have left today?” There, that sounded nice and detached. Professional.

“Not many. Ten more and then you’ll have about an hour to make your decisions.”

“Then we’ll be free for a night on the town.” Jennifer eyed Reid up and down. “So many options for fun in New York.”

“There’s something for everyone.” Reid was still looking at me, even though he was clearly talking to Jennifer. It was disconcerting to have his attention focused on me that way, especially when I hadn’t done a thing to encourage him.

My skin prickled and I stood up so quickly my chair wobbled. “My back is killing me.” I pulled off the wireless microphone from beneath my collar. “I’m going to stretch my legs for a bit.”

The smell of industrial oil and street meat hit me the moment I got outside. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be sick or go grab a bite to eat. It only added to my aggravation. Reid was annoying the hell out of me. When he wasn’t acting like a kid, relieving the tension on set by making everyone laugh, he was staring at me with a look as though he wanted to consume me.