Chapter 4

So far looked good. Backstage was as busy as a beehive with professional hairstylists and makeup artists scrambling from left to right.

Eloïse whose curiosity peeked, sneaked out of the fuss for a little spy stroll. She leaped with joy when, during her scan, Leonard LeBeau an executive from one of the renowned department boutiques in New York came in sight. He had the front row together with his associates. Her eyes scanned again from behind the curtains and she could see some of her favorite stylists. She mentally noted to have their autographs immediately after the show.

There too she spotted Lupita Nyong'o and Coco Jones. Eloïse began to hyperventilate again. One would think it was her first time but of course it was since the last year an exam came along the way, two years ago, the invited celebrities didn't show up.

"Eloïse," her mother called from backstage, "we need you here, please. Winnie's skirt needs a little adjustment and Edward's trousers too."

"Ahh, I'm so happy everything's good so far, mum. Oh my, hopefully, my haut couture catches Leo's awareness. That'll be a dream come true," Eloïse ranted as she rapidly fastened Winnie's skirt to a fit.

"You know your designs are very impressive and original, I'm a thousand percent sure it'll catch more than his attention," Zaphrina praised, "I called Ace this morning."

"Really?" Eloïse gleamed with glee, "how's he doing? Gosh! I've been too busy to check up on him."

The thought of her son squandering his life with alcohol and money in a foreign country obscured her mind so much that tears began to build up. She had begun to think it was a very bad idea to fly him out. Zaphrina sighed, "he's fine. He wished you his best of luck."

"That's kind of him. I'll call him as soon as my mind is at rest with the fashion week events."

The last time she recalled having spoken to her brother was after Marila's birthday party to confide her day and encounter which on second thought, she ended up not mentioning it due to his inconsiderate behavior and also to threaten him about finding a far better model to replace him. The douche was an awful bundle of flaunts.

Zaphrina glanced at her wristwatch. "Oh, we barely have five minutes to start. Let me signal, Jin."

Marila gasped as she rushed to Eloïse, "did you see all that crowd? Yikes! Guess what? I already spotted three hot guys at the extreme of the left side runway," she excitedly clapped as Eloïse rolled her eyes. "Hey, tell me what you think of my hair," she adjusted her cascading curls, "I got some cute idle hairstylist to do it for me while I got to know him, and guess another what?"

Eloïse said nothing but eye-checked the models who had begun lining up with the help of the backstage coordinator preparing to exhibit.

"He. Is. Single." She verbally spaced out, "can you imagine that, huh? Huh?" She nudged Eloïse, "Hey, why are you not saying anything? Are you by any chance in your transition period?"

Eloïse's pupil rotated to the periphery without her head moving from its initial position. "I have nothing to say, Marila. Come, let's find a place upfront for a better view. Where's Bennie?"

"Already upfront, I guess."

Eloïse together with Marila joined Bennie after spotting her chili hair waving at them from a distance: a shade the girl presumed to be fashionable and fit for the event. In less than two, the music resonated and the models began displaying the extravagant colorful collections which from the onlooker's view she assumed they looked a lot more extraordinary than they did up close.

From the spot, Eloïse could sight a good number of other expensively dressed VVIP celebrities on the frow, some with their spouses, that she hadn't seen during her sneak peek. She as well spotted Mary Mcbourne and N.J McCarthy the famous fashion writers, a handful of I*******m influencers she recognized but didn't know, some unknown backseat scribblers and men in black who took photos with their phones, and of course the media.

"This is the first time I'm participating in a fashion show," Bennie said as she watched the models in awe, "I must confess it's exhilarating."

"I know right?" Eloïse confirmed, "I'm so excited for them to see my cards."

"About that, when are they coming up?" Marila asked.

"Mum didn't tell me but I guess it will be among the last or in between."

A couple of minutes later, Melanie, one of her favorite models for inexplicable reasons, showed up with a one-shoulder navy blue and amber variegated dress that in addition to its backless and almost frontless design, flew exaggeratedly down the floor. Her semi-toned skin, the way she pictured its contrast to the dress, was the reason she chose her.

"There it comes," Marila alerted.

Young Eloïse contained her jitters as she watched Melanie, in all her glorious parading style, bounce on the runway with both hands lost in the pockets of the flair cleavage to navel-exposing dress. Another reason for her choice.

Her straight face, chiseled jawbones, and slick back slipped wet-looking neck-leveled hazel hair was the chef's cherry on the cake.

Glamorous.

She noticed a peculiar reaction from the onlookers which warmed her heart. This time, she no doubt will make it. She'll be just like her mum, if not, better. That has always been her dream yet, unlike her mother who was strictly into African prints, she wanted diversity.

The lights which disclosed everyone's awestruck face flickered causing the crowd, she inclusive, to mumble in confusion.

"What was that?" Bennie inquired.

"No idea. Must be a minor electrical fault." Eloïse consoled as she watched her model unbreakingly take the U-bend back just in time for the lights to go off completely.

There was an uproar in the room for two or three seconds before the Lord decided for there to be light again.

Eloïse, whose blood had begun throbbing due to the constantly rising adrenaline, excused herself to head backstage. What she had feared the most had just occurred, worst of all during 'her' haut couture exhibit. Soon enough, she heard the commencing music fade behind her.

"Mum," she called whilst wrecking into random bodies as she made her way to the dressing hall where the wardrobe expertise, assistants, and models who had just finished parading hurried into a new set of clothes for the next round. "Mum? Hey, Pete," she called, "have you seen my mum anywhere?"

Pete, whose dress was habitually emblemed with safety pins, needles of all sorts and sizes said, "she stormed out of here cursing Rodriguez and some Jerry or Jeremy is it?"

Without another word, Eloïse fumed towards the backstage electrical district to add a piece of her mind to her mother's currently giving piece of mind. Only then did she realize that her friends trailed behind her.

"You guys didn't have to miss the show too," she kept furiously walking.

"There's no show without you," Marila croaked struggling to meet up with Eloïse. "Goodness, when will you be joining the Olympics?"

"When there'll be another grinch in the yard," Eloïse pushed opened the ajar door which had 'Authorized staff only' inscribed on it.

Her mother's back faced her, both hands resting on her waist as she scolded a stout man in an intricately curled mustache which reminded her of Gustav, a friend she made on a family trip to Italy close to nine years ago.

He owned one of the best pizzerias in town and the only reason he caught her attention was because she kept staring at his stiff curled mustache that was out of the ordinary. He genuinely smiled at her but she didn't smile back.

'An extra pizza for my new friend here,' he had said in accented English. 'What is your name, bellissimo new friend?'

'Eloïse.'

'Eloïse. French?'

She timidly shook her head. He asked her what she wanted in her pizza and told him his name when he brought their pact of friendship.

"What happened back there?" Eloïse sought notice. "Mum?"

Her mother turned to her depositing an assuring hand on her daughter's shoulder. "It's nothing worth your worry, go back to the exhibition room."

Instead of starting a debate with her mum, she turned to the stout man with grey eyes in addition to Gustav's mustache. His name and occupation were inscribed on his badge, "Jeremy," She called, "I presume you are Rodriguez's replacement?"

"Eloïse."

The boiling point attained late teen ignored her mum. "Are you aware of what just occurred back there?" The man said nothing. "Don't you know your job anymore or am I supposed to teach you?"

"Eloïse."

"Rodriguez said you're expertise in this just like him, so what happened? Your uncle could be fired for this because of you, are you aware of that?"

"Y-yes ma'am. I'm deeply sorry, ma'am, it will never happen again."

Her mother held her shoulders from the back to pry her off the miserable Jeremy. "It's okay. No need to worry over a two seconds blackout. Now, go back there while I take full charge."

"A blackout that chose my haut couture exhibit for it to occur," she chastised.

"I'm sorry about that baby, but another is coming up isn't it? You won't want to miss that." Marila and Bennie appeared at the doorstep. "Girls, please take Eloïse back upfront," She warmly smiled, "relieve some stress there at the sight of Leonard."

"Jeremy, what on eart—" another voice joined in. The man stood at the door, an extra head behind her two friends, panting. In his expensive blackberry smoking suit, he stepped in. That's when recognition bashed her. "Hi."

The unmistakable wittled jawline, the strong, fierce eyes, the glittering silk jet black hair and eyes. It was him no doubt.

"Craig?"

"We meet again." He barely smiled.

"Craig?" Her mother and two friends called in unison.