Fire in the Wind Read Online Free PDF Page B

sharpening at this evidence that Louisa was showing no professional remorse over the way she had botched the show. She wondered suddenly if Louisa had been trying to get back at her for last night, when she had lost Jake to Vanessa at the party.
    "I'm sure that gives Mr. Conrad special rights with you," Vanessa said silkily, in a voice whose sheer female bitchery surprised her, "but he can hardly expect it to work with everyone. Mr. Conrad?" she finished, indicating the still open door.
    "Vanessa," he returned politely, inclining his head as though at a greeting. His voice was soft, but his dark eyes took in everything. He took the doorknob from her clasp and closed the door softly as he went out.
    Vanessa ripped into Louisa with the ferocity of an avenging angel. As soon as the door closed behind Jake Conrad she began coldly listing the mistakes the model had made that evening, outfit by outfit, counting them off on her fingers with a catalogue's accuracy. When she got to the issue of the size of the russet dress each word came out like a small shard of ice.
    "That dress," she said, through her teeth, "is for the sophisticated white-collar working woman who has some sense of style. You looked like a charity patient at Bellevue Hospital. It was supposed to be worn by Martita, who came out instead in the navy A-line. You were supposed to show that. Now just what the hell was going on here tonight?"
    Colin was leaning negligently against the door saying nothing, but Vanessa was wishing she had asked him to leave, too. Louisa's sullen pretty mouth was setting into a mulish line and it was probably a mistake to have taken her to task in front of an audience. Angrily she wondered where Tom was. He should have been here, too, or was his fashion eye so bad that he hadn't seen what had happened?
    "It didn't look that bad," Louisa said. "It's a shirtwaist—and anyway, I pulled it in at the waist and rolled up the cuffs."
    "Why were you wearing it?" Vanessa demanded.
    "Because I was busy talking and Martita was nagging me to put on the navy because I was going to be late and finally I just told her to put it on herself, and she did, so I put on hers."
    Vanessa closed her eyes and thanked God for the Martitas of the world, who felt some sense of responsibility to the job. Martita was a regular TopMarx model who had travelled with them from New York. Louisa and two other local models had been hired on their arrival in Vancouver for the duration of the show. Vanessa wondered what kind of evening Martita had had, trying to organize not only herself but Louisa, too.
    "Where are Martita and the others now?" she asked.
    "Alison and Jenny are over at the West Coast Sportswear dressing room." Most of the local models worked for more than one manufacturer at these shows. "And I don't know where Martita is." Her tone added, and I don't care!
    Vanessa took a breath, the anger somehow drained out of her. "All right, you won't be needed here any more. You may as well take your things with you when you leave tonight."
    Louisa's mouth opened. "But the show goes on for three more days!" she protested.
    "We'll be getting someone else in," Vanessa said. Tom wouldn't argue this decision. If absolutely necessary three girls could do the show.
    "But this is my first job!" she wailed, like a child being robbed of a promised treat.
    "Well, watch out it isn't your last," Vanessa said unfeelingly, making a mental note to tear a strip off the woman at the modelling agency. "If you don't act like a professional you won't be hired as one."
    Louisa's eyes narrowed and glinted green as she gazed insolently back at Vanessa. "Well, anyway, I don't care," she said. "Jake's taking me out to dinner tonight, and I won't need a job after that. Jake'll look after me. He's always wanted to look after me, and tonight I'll tell him he can."

Chapter 3

    At ten o'clock that night Vanessa lay in bed thinking very unkind thoughts indeed about Louisa Hayward. She had gone to bed