The afterparty was in full swing, with a riot of jungle-themed decor in the adjacent tent. Four African drummers in traditional, colourful dress were setting an earthy rhythm, while the monitors ringing the area showed a video of monkeys at the zoo going about their day.
Maddie had been trying to get close to Véronique to find out what she had discussed with Elena. But the normally reclusive fashion star was the centre of attention among a throng of admiring, fellow designers, fawning fashionistas, and industry associates. Natalii was there, too, sticking to her side like the security blanket Maddie knew she was.
Scouring the crowd, Maddie tried to spot Elena. She’d caught glimpses of Perry’s gleaming, bald head and knew that his boss wouldn’t be far away. But so far, she was proving elusive.
“Well, look who it is. The star of the whole damn universe.”
Maddie turned to find Felicity, hands on hips, shooting her a look that was nine parts jealousy, one part Felicity. Or was it the other way around? With Felicity it was hard to tell.
“Hey.” Maddie wondered if this would be a long conversation about all her failings on the catwalk, or whether she’d get a chance to try those cute, melty, jungle cheese balls before they got cold.
“Don’t even think about it!” Felicity followed her gaze to the passing platter of balls. “I’ve seen your eyes molesting those things, and they are pure fat. Don’t do it.”
“They look great.” Maddie gave a wistful sigh.
“Don’t they, though?” Felicity looked at them as if they were a new-line Versace handbag. She turned back from the parade of food trays and gave Maddie a slap on the arm. “And that’s for before.”
“Hey! What’d I do?”
“Everything!” Felicity scowled. “Nothing! I don’t know—how is it you just waltz into the story of the decade, get the dress of the century to wear at the best show at fashion week, and then get invited to the world’s most exclusive afterparty? An afterparty, I might add, that Perry and I couldn’t get into until we said who we were friends with.”
“Well, Elena’s name does open every door.”
“Not this tent flap,” Felicity said with a disagreeable look. “Perry had to say we knew you. Sure enough the Duchamps had left some spare tickets under your name. I suppose your head is the size a bus right now.” She snatched a passing flute of champagne. “Although, I know what you’ll say.”
“Really?” Maddie plucked a glass of orange juice off the tray. “What will I say?”
“Well, you’ll look at me all doe-eyed with that aw-shucks Australian innocence and explain it all just happened, somehow. That you got lucky.” She threw her hand up. “I worked my ass off to get a tenth as lucky as you in life. I swear, if I didn’t somewhat like you and find you a damned good PA—although I will kill you if you tell a soul I just said that—I would poke your eyes out with a cheese knife. Well, I would, if cheese knives weren’t so bloody close to the cheese platter.”
Maddie shook her head. “Seriously? I have no idea, any more than you do, why any of this is turning out the way it is. But I know you’d sleep a hell of a lot better if you focused more on your own career than mine. Except you don’t even like your own career, do you? Why are you a chief of staff anyway? You’re a fashion worshipper.” She thought about that and laughed. “My God, it’s catching isn’t it? You and Elena? Neither of you are doing what would make you happiest.”
Felicity peered at her. “What would you know about what makes her happy? You’ve only known her for five minutes. I’ve known her years. She relies on me. Me!” She swayed a little, and Maddie realised the chief of staff had probably been indulging somewhat more than she should. That explained this more uncensored spray than usual.
“Felicity…” she began.
“No! You can’t make this all right with your charms. That reminds me—did you have to smile like a hyena at the end of the catwalk? I almost threw myself under my seat in embarrassment.”
A rising blush made Maddie grateful for the darkness.
Felicity took another huge gulp of champagne.
Was she deliberately getting sloshed?
“Elena liked my smile.” Maddie hoped her blush wasn’t obvious.
“Of course she damn well did. Everything you do now is somehow beatified. Hell, you even ruined her marriage, and you’re still the second coming. If I ruined her marriage, she’d politely ask her driver to reverse over my still-twitching corpse a few times, and then she’d fire me posthumously.”
“Richard ruined their marriage. We both know she deserves better than that sleazy bastard. I was just the one who told her about him.”
“You are so…” Felicity shook her head and sounded defeated. “Bah! I need to get properly drunk and laid. And you—stay out of my sight until I can process how you keep scooping the lottery instead of getting shredded by shark teeth.”
Maddie studied the confusion in her eyes. Felicity actually had a good point. Her luck had been insane of late. She was just superstitious enough to wonder when it would turn.
There was a screech as a microphone was turned on, and they both looked towards the stage to see a punkish, blue-haired woman wearing dark, ripped jeans and a green tank top.
Maddie squinted. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear the woman looked like Natalii’s girlfriend, Adèle. The same one who had been squinting at her down a webcam only days ago, accusing her of sleeping with her lover. And now she was suddenly on one knee before the hushed room, speaking rapidly in French, offering a ring to Natalii.
Oh wow. A proposal?
She tried to make out the words, but they were speaking too fast. Then kissing. And hugging. And crying. And waving, as the crowd cheered.
“Well fuck,” Felicity said, eyes narrowing, “that works out for you, too, doesn’t it? Do you ever have any bad days that aren’t wardrobe related?”
“What?” Maddie frowned. “How does their engagement have anything to do with me?”
“Well, now the press will stop implying you got your scoop by sleeping with her.” Her finger jabbed in Natalii’s direction.
“Honestly, Felicity, why do you even care if I get a few good breaks? I don’t even work with you anymore.”
“I don’t care. But Elena does. And I just don’t get it. She was in such a foul mood when she thought you were…dining out on French. Oh, that reminds me!” Her tone turned all officious. “The twentieth? That publishers ball you’re going to with Elena? See Perry. Elena apparently has all these ideas for what you’re wearing.”
“She does?” Just an hour ago, Elena had expressed only a vague and passing interest in her outfit for the event. Where had “all these ideas” come from?
“A long list of ideas. Really long.” Felicity’s lips thinned. “Right after the catwalk show, she was having epiphanies all over the place. She was quite specific too. And don’t bother asking me why she cares what you’ll be dressed like. The mind of Elena is an enigma wrapped up in a Coco Chanel.”
Coco Chanel! So that’s what she was wearing. She looked gorgeous too.
“Can you just…” Felicity squinted at her. Then sighed. “I don’t know, explain? You’re the garage-band, dead-person crime girl. Why?”
