Page 149 of Triggered By Love
Matt did a rendition of a hawk’s call, but it didn’t come out quite right with his baritone voice. “Aeeehh, aiiiee, I love this getup.”
He raised his hands as if he were about to take off. Long flight feathers were affixed over the backs of his fingers.
Avery gasped at the overall effect. “It’s so realistic. You look like you’re part-hawk and part-man. Ivanna, I love the way you blended the feathers up from his eyebrows.”
“I used makeup to accentuate his piercing blue eyes to make it match,” Ivanna said. “It wasn’t easy to glue each feather and overlap them exactly.”
“The stylist did a great job with the fohawk haircut,” Avery commented. “The hairline blends in so well with the feathers and the way the hair tapers to the neck. Love it.”
Matt was wearing a modern rendition of Cary Grant’s famousNorth by Northwestsingle-breasted flannel suit. It was tailored to closely fit Matt’s physique with slanted side pockets to evoke a more active mood. The smooth lines were not interrupted by a handkerchief square in the breast pocket, and pinstripes added to the flair.
Matt would wear the Brando fedora with a silk band on his walk out to The Point with the three-hundred-sixty-degree view, then do a turn around with his arms outstretched, as if he were flying away. He would remove the fedora and swagger back to the transparent floor where his feathered features would be on display for the cameras and audience.
As he made his final turn, he’d throw the Brando fedora, and a lucky guest would catch it, all while being filmed. The video would be uploaded to Avery’s Shopify page where the fedora, along with accessories and a collection of ready-to-wear outfits, would be sold online.
The flash sale would be massive, and Brando’s name and face with the fedora dipped down over one eye would be plastered on every social media page
“Chop. Chop. Ready to roll.” Kerry’s voice snapped Avery out of her reverie.
She jerked her head around at the rousing welcome roar and the snappy beat of the runway music. “Where’s Jason?”
“He checked in but ran out again,” Kerry said. “Finn said he had some last-minute errands to run.”
“He’d better be ready,” she said as she grabbed her clipboard and rushed to the front of the model line. From the side of her eye, Jason swaggered from his dressing area. He gave her a smirk and air-kissed her, then he flexed his muscles. Turning his back, he wagged his way-too-sexy behind at her.
Predictably, he set her on fire, flushing heat through her blood and pulses of lust tingling to the tips of her nipples. The man was too hot to handle.
Pumping up his energy and bursting onto the stage, strutting like he was a lion, the king of the jungle.
Suddenly, Avery was glad she hadn’t gone ahead with the porcupine Mohawk. What the heck was she thinking? Jason didn’t roll up in a ball and shoot barbs at the enemy. He charged like a fearless lion, and there he went, leading the line of models.
She peeked out at them, clasping her hands to her frantically beating heart. Brando’s spirit was in the moves of every model, even the female ones who showed heart, courage, as well as a kindness that transcended death.
Diamante Steele was in the exact middle of the show. She twirled and whirled, her metallic gown full of gems clinking and glittering in the waning sunlight. The videos and photos would be epic. The moment itself transfixed in every soul witnessing her floating above the glass triangle floor—on the very edge of time and space.
Avery held her breath, a mixture of dread and elation keeping her on her toes. Cameras flashed and shutters clicked at machine-gun speed, a continuous barrage following her timeless form, full of grace and glory. She was the angel of the show dedicated to Brando, a link from the classic hero of times past to the warp speed of a machine-enhanced future.
And then the music changed, a hard charging, exciting action sequence, and Diamante floated back up the stairway, coming back to the restaurant while Matt got ready to step out. He was behind a fur-trimmed brunette portraying the huntress. She strode out in jodhpurs and a riding crop—checked and approved by Secret Service.
“Hey, we need to touch up your makeup,” Ivanna said, grabbing Avery. “You keep biting your lip.”
Matt was out, going down the staircase toward the jutting sky deck, but Avery missed his performance. Ivanna and Kerry forced her to keep still as they powdered and dusted, traced and dabbed. She should be getting nervous.
She had stage fright, didn’t she?
She would go alone.
This would be the moment the killer was waiting for if he or she were out there.
But Jason was also out there, as was Finn and the others.
So was Mrs. Bonet and her brothers, Chase and Damon.
And up there, watching all of this with a sexy grin on his face was Brando.
“This is for you, my love.” She blew a kiss skyward as Kerry guided her to the exit of the restaurant.
Cheers and screams roared loud and the rapid-fire of cameras clicking, lights flashing was like being in the center of a fireworks show—right before the big bang at the end.
