Page 78 of The Big Easy & Other Lies
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. But there was no way I’d be dropping in on any meal with Angelique at the table. It’d turn my stomach, and anything Mrs. LeBlanc said to Angelique would only make it worse.
“I’ll wait for you there,” I said to Rhett, pointing to a chaise lounge by the pool. “Ride to the rescue.”
They hustled off, and I sank down on the chaise, glad to enjoy the night air and the quiet; I had the pool to myself.
Within three minutes, Rhett jogged back over. “I think Greek monkey was Tate Anders. He yakked on the rental PA system in there and it shorted. I’m going to see if I can rig something.” He hesitated. “It could take a while. It looks like I can only wear shining armor for one person at a time. Forgive me?”
“I don’t need rescuing,” I said, smiling. “I’ll find Livvie and place bets with myself over who she picks for her next crush. Go be a good nephew.”
He loped back to the pool house and a minute later an angel drifted out. Even if Amber had been wearing a mask, I would have guessed it was her. It was a quality getup, way better than the disposable store-bought ones most people sported tonight. She and I had forged an unspoken truce over the last few weeks as we worked out the costuming. Not that we were friendly or anything, but I could respect her skill. Since she made me her first assistant a week after Mr. Gervis installed her as the head costume designer, I figured she felt the same.
“Cam?” She stopped at the edge of the pool deck and squinted. “That’s you, right?”
“Hi, Amber.”
She glanced over her shoulder toward the pool house. “Can you come with me?”
“Why?” I asked, suddenly wary that I was about to be treated to a trick.
“Can you trust me? There’s something you need to see.”
I hesitated. “I’m waiting for—”
“Rhett. I know. He’ll be awhile.” She took a deep breath. “It’s important.”
It would take some nerve to dress like an angel and then jack me over, I decided. Standing, I nodded and adjusted my mask. “No offense to your bestie, but I’d rather not run into her.”
“Me either,” I thought I heard her mutter. Instead of heading straight to the back patio, she led me to the study doors. “Stay here for a second. I’m going to tell Angelique her mom needs her in the pool house.”
She hurried out, and I surveyed the room to make sure I wasn’t being punked. A couple of sophomores I vaguely recognized were trying to pick the lock on Judge LeBlanc’s liquor cabinet, but I didn’t see anything more nefarious than that. Amber glided back in a few minutes, and I followed her up to the east wing and past Rhett’s bedroom. When I realized where she was headed, I stopped.
“I don’t think I should go in there.” I watched her slip a key into the lock of Angelique’s workroom, anxiety flaring in my stomach as she jiggled the handle.
“You really should.” With no further explanation, she threw the door open and stepped back.
More confused than even one of Dr. Bickham’s lectures could make me, I walked in and flipped a light, then gasped.
My Urban Renewal line stared back at me.
Chapter 28
Broken Dreams sat perfectly executed on a dress form in front of me. Only better. Way better. Drifts of airy chiffon formed the skirt and the shredded wrap blouse I had made was reinterpreted here in gorgeous interlaced one-inch straps of chocolate satin.
“What the—” I whirled to demand an explanation from Amber.
“I couldn’t believe how awesome her line was,” she said. “It’s so unlike anything she’s ever done that I thought she must have tapped some hidden genius to come up with this. When I saw your costume designs, I realized this isn’t Angelique’s line at all. She took this from you, didn’t she?”
I turned back to stare at the mannequin and then three of the outfits hanging on a rolling rack behind it. All of them were my ideas but executed in amazing fabrics I could only dream of using. “How did she get them?” I whispered.
But I knew how. Rhett. I didn’t think for a second he’d given them to her on purpose, but it didn’t change the reality of what I saw in her workroom: my designs, different in color and fabric from what I’d put together, but unmistakably my concepts. Only her versions were beautiful where I had gone gritty, polished where I had gone for rough. Because I had to. Because that was what poor meant.
“I don’t know how she did it,” Amber said. “But I’m sorry.”
Anger burned my eyes, threatening to pour out as furious tears. The Broken Dreams outfit blurred as I stared at it. “Then why?” I asked. “Why would she do this? She’d have to know someone would figure it all out when they saw us both put up the same designs.”
Amber rubbed her forehead. “She doesn’t know I’ve figured this out, so she definitely hasn’t told me what she was thinking.”
“You’re her best friend,” I said. “So guess.”
