The Stylist Read Online Free Page B

love—how will you get through it? Have you seen the new Lanvin?’
    ‘Oh, I’ll do it, all right.’ Mona looked directly into the camera lens for effect. ‘
Nothing
comes between me and my superstars. But at this precise moment, it’s so unfunny, I actually feel like screaming.’
    I glanced over towards the Stick. Brow furrowed, she was totally immersed in Mona’s plight, feeling her pain.
Does she know she’s folded and refolded that mohair jumper three times?
The
20Twenty
crew huddled around Mona, filming her intently. Fran with the bob was chewing the end of her biro while Rob held a boom mic just above Mona’s head.
    I wondered if they’d shot the fateful scene with Tamara handing in her notice earlier in the day.
I wouldn’t have liked to be in her shoes when she told Mona the news.
Jas began motioning Mona over to her ‘Ones to Watch’, concern etched across her delicate features.
    ‘What a total nightmare. But surely you have some girls you use in LA, Mona—is there anyone I can have Kiki call for you? Kiki, honey!’
    The Stick immediately dropped the jumper and rushedon-set, almost skidding to a halt on the shag-pile in front of Mona.
Damn—it would have been entertaining to see her take a dive.
Her box-fresh Kirkwoods were clearly as uncomfortable as mine. The camera and boom turned to her. Idly, I wondered if the Stick was Rob’s type.
    ‘No, darling—there’s no one I can call.’ Mona turned away, barely registering Kiki. ‘Loving this though—what’s the label?’
    ‘Star-Crossed, she’s a recent graduate, will show at London Fashion Week,’ Jas informed her, pulling a couple of cocktail dresses from the rail.
    ‘Hmm.’ She moved on.
    Mona then turned her gaze to the front of the store. Kiki retreated, crestfallen, her small-screen debut over before it began.
    ‘That reminds me,’ Mona continued, ‘the windows. I’m loving the monochrome, but what you’ve done with the shoes is inspired.’
    Jas and Kiki both looked at me, puzzled. We all joined Mona at the side of the bay windows. My cheeks began to heat up as I racked my brains.
What could have happened to the shoes?
The shaggy cameraman headed towards the front of the store, too, Rob lifting cables behind him. Kiki and Fran followed. Surreptitiously, we all strained to see the feet of the two mannequins standing exactly as I’d left them, with their backs to us behind the glass facade. The burning sensation in my cheeks turned into a wave of panic as it hit me like a cold, hard slap in the face—I’d been standing outside, looking at the mannequins from the street, when the Stick had screamed for me to come in and finish steaming the jumpsuits. I’d meant to come back to them, but got distractedby Mona’s arrival …
Oh God …
I’d left one white and one black shoe on each mannequin’s plastic feet.
    I feel sick.
    ‘Which of you is responsible for the mismatched shoes?’ Mona asked.
    I shuffled uncomfortably, knowing I had nowhere to hide. I wanted to open the door and run far away from here; just keep on running until I found a bush to hide under in Regent’s Park, or a cardboard box in an underpass. I wanted to be at my parents’ house—better still, my grandma’s flat. Somewhere no one would find me. Jas and the Stick both looked in my direction, frowning, willing me to speak, lest Mona should think either of them had messed up the display.
    ‘Come on, don’t be shy,’ Mona urged, searching our faces.
    The camera’s big, nosy lens pointed towards us. I hated Shaggy for putting me on the spot like this with his horrible, ugly camera. And I hated Rob and Fran even more, for not stopping him. Eventually I plucked up the courage to speak.
    ‘It was me, Mona, I …’
    ‘The monochrome vibe, it’s so fresh, so relevant,’ she said. ‘But what you’ve done with the shoes—
j’adore!
You’re a genius, girl.’
    Is she having a laugh?
    Before I could say it was a hideous mistake that I had meant to fix,