Page 38 of Crash and Burn
"What is it?" Grant sat up straighter in his seat and leaned over the table. "Something important? It can't be something bad since you're smiling like a lunatic."
"I got an email from Farrow and Paige," I told him. "They want to meet with me."
He cocked his head, the name not registering for a second, before recognition lit up in his eyes.
"Holyshit," he echoed. “I know them. They're a big deal. What…?"
"It was when I was at your magazine photoshoot," I explained quickly, still gaping at the screen. "I didn't know if it was just a prank or what, but I guess I got scouted. I left a message with the receptionist. And they emailed me back." I lowered the phone to my lap, eyes wide. "I can't believe this is happening. I have a meeting with Farrow and Paige."
"That'sfantastic." Grant's smile was now wider than mine.
"It's crazy, is what it is," I said, doubt now sinking in.
"No, it's not," Grant said confidently. "You're talented and amazing." He leaned forward eagerly in his seat. "So how did it happen?"
"Some guy came up and asked about my outfit. He thought it was some designer piece." The words coming out of my mouth still felt like a fantasy. A daydream. "When I told him I had sewn it myself he was impressed. He gave me a card. It didn't have any name I recognized. I'd forgotten about it until a few days ago. I called just for the hell of it. And they responded." I stared back down at my phone in awe. "Cliff Carling wants to see me."
The smile on Grant's face faded.
"Wait," he said. "Carling? Cliff Carling? That's the guy you were talking to at the photoshoot?"
"I guess that's him," I said.
"You can't go," Grant said immediately.
"Why not?" I asked, taken aback.
"I think I recognize him now," Grant said. "He's sort of got a reputation."
I sat up straight.
"What do you mean?" I asked. Terrible thoughts of theMe Toomovement swirled in my head.
"He was hitting on you," Grant said. "He thinks he's some silver fox Casanova. He's not actually interested in your designs. That was probably just a line to butter you up."
"Are you serious?" I asked. "You think he came up to me because he was hitting on me?"
"Of course," Grant said, matter-of-fact. "It's obvious."
My eyes narrowed as ire overtook my worry.
"What's so obvious about it?" I snapped. "You think a real designer couldn't possibly think my work is good?"
"Come on, Liz," he said patiently. "Your outfits are cute, but they're not high fashion."
I gritted my teeth.
"I thought you wanted me to pursue art," I said. "This is an amazing opportunity for me."
"No it's not," Grant said. "This is just some guy who wants to get into your pants."
Anger swelled inside me, filling my chest and threatening to spew out of my mouth. I pressed my lips together in a firm line.
"You're supposed to be happy for me," I said.
"People don't just get plucked from obscurity, Liz,” he said. “That's only in the movies."
I stood up from my seat in a flurry.
