“Billings,” Amanda mused as she continued reading. “I still want to meet him.”
“Trust me, you don’t.”
“Did I hear my name?”
We both looked up in surprise as Billings himself swept into the room, followed by a team of hairdressers and stylists. Marcus trailed along at the end, but stopped in the doorframe, leaning on it nervously as he watched the situation unfold.
I forced my face into a sweet smile. “Just singing your praises, old friend.”
Amanda held up the cards and attempted politeness. “This is some quality stuff.”
He rewarded each of us with a bitchy smile. “Well, when your clients met each other under fraudulent circumstances, proceeded to dupe stockholders with a paid relationship, and then got immediately pregnant—you work with what you’ve got.”
“I happen to like their story.” Amanda jutted up her chin loyally, refusing to budge and forcing the frazzled hairdressers to work around her. “One of those fairytales, ‘but they fell in love, and it all came together in the end’ sort of deals.”
“You, my dear,” Billings muttered as he gazed critically at my reflection, “would never have a successful career in public relations.”
She kicked up her heels and grinned. “No, I’m far too concerned with fulfilling my own life goals to professionally dedicate myself to the perceptions of others. You know, as profound as that may be.”
For the first time all morning, I flashed her a genuine smile. Even Marcus stifled a little grin as Billings glanced back his way.
“This is your friend Amanda I’ve been hearing so much about?” he asked flatly. His eyes narrowed when I nodded happily, and he looked her up and down. “That fits.”
“Why don’t we just get on with it?” Marcus suggested peaceably from the doorway. “We need to have her at the studio within the hour.”
“Right you are.” Billings straightened up, suddenly all business. “Rebecca, did you go over the cards last night?”
“Sure did. Loved them.”
“Good. Then let’s focus on wardrobe. I’ve pulled out three different dresses for you to choose from. Each one modest but stylish—we want to downplay the gold-digger accusations as much as possible. And each one cinches at the waist to dissuade the notion that you might be—”
“Pregnant?” I asked loudly, ignoring the darting gazes from the hairdressers as they buzzed around my head.
Marcus met my eyes in the mirror, but Billings stepped inadvertently in between. “Yes, pregnant. We wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”
We stared each other down for a minute before I flashed a fleeting smile.
“Of course not.”
Still watching me warily, he turned his head to the side. “Katia, can you bring in the dresses for me? Now, Rebecca, whichever one you choose has its own style.”
“You choose,” I interrupted.
He paused mid-sentence. “I’m sorry?”
I lifted my head as my newly styled curls fell down my back. “I said, you choose. This is what you’re best at, right? And this is our story?” I glanced down at the cards.
The hairdressers scattered as the makeup girls rushed in.
“Yes,” Billings said slowly, “that is your story.”
I smiled sweetly. “Then I don’t see the need for me to have any input at all. There’s clearly nothing of me in here. And I’m nothing if not a sticker for consistency.”
There was a slight pause.
“We’re going with the white. Makes her seem more bridal. And get rid of the heavy jewelry—we’re going with classic tear-drop pearls. Think Jackie O, you know, before the death and bloodshed. I want you three over here directing—”
I tuned out as Billings’ voice became a low hum and looked instead