Chapter Twenty Four

The next day at the filming, Westen would not come to the dressing room to see Ornette to make sure she looked good enough.

The Coordinator stood over Ornette in her dressing gown with his tablet in hand, tapping his foot and looking pissed off. “Westen is supposed to approve your look before you go on stage. It’s in his participants’ agreement. If he doesn’t come back here…”

“What are you going to do?” Ornette smiled mockingly at him. “There’s nothing you can do. So, you can listen to me. I was styled perfectly yesterday. I am a designer in my own right. It’s not like I need a man to help me get ready. I can put on my own clothes. He wasn’t there for the fitting and whether he’s here or not, I can still make him and you look good. Trust me.”

The Coordinator stopped tapping his toe and put a hand on his hip. “I’d believe you better if you had something a little more…”

Ornette glanced over her shoulder at the reason for his distress. It was her dress. As it had the day before, it looked like a dishrag… and a sad one at that.

“That dishrag is phenomenal,” Ornette reassured him. “When you see it on me, it’s going to give you a whole new definition of the word triumph.”

The moment hung while The Coordinator and Ornette stared each other down.

Finally, he dropped the hand on his hip. “If I don’t like it, you’re wearing one of the dresses Fen sent you.”

He went to leave, but Ornette grabbed his elbow. “One of the dresses Fen sent me? I wasn’t aware he’d sent me anything.”

“You’re not allowed to have them until the show is over,” The Coordinator shot back. “But they’re made to fit you and if that dishrag doesn’t do you justice, I’ll send you on stage in one of Fen’s creations. It’s against the rules, but perhaps more allowable if Westen won’t come back here to approve your look. Varner will excuse me for approving it in Westen’s place, even if Fen is not supposed to get more attention than Westen. Papa Bear does not want any of his girls looking like a paper bag full of groceries.”

“I want you to call me that in half an hour,” Ornette grinned. “I would love that. You walk back here after I’ve got my dress on and you call me a paper bag full of groceries. I would just enjoy that so much.”

“Enough nonsense. Put it on,” The Coordinator ordered.

“Right now?” Ornette asked with a little nose wrinkle.

He didn’t answer, but planted his feet and stared at her.

Ornette clapped her hands. “Yay! I get to put it back on! Yay! Yay! Yay!”

The Coordinator watched as Ornette slid out of her dressing gown and reached for the hanger. She unzipped it but found a note pinned to the label inside.

“What’s that?” The Coordinator asked cooly.

Ornette unpinned it and opened it. “It’s a note from the tailor. He says he has managed to get an identical dress in bronze at a discount. He’s going to send it to me as his personal gift to me.”

“The tailor?” he asked quizzically.

“Yes. Westen wasn’t at the fitting yesterday either. I told you that already. If he had been there, he wouldn’t have missed today. He would have stepped over his own sister for the fun of being backstage with me in this dress.”

The Coordinator gave her a stunned look and balked, “You have got to be kidding me. He wasn’t there either? I’m gonna see if we can get him tossed out. It’s very clear now why there was no interesting footage provided of you during this last week.”

Ornette turned away while The Coordinator continued his rant. She did not care if Westen got kicked off the show or not. The only thing on her mind was the beige dress that no one was supposed to love. She bet Westen had bought it at a discount too. No one had wanted it because it looked so drab on the hanger. She bet no salesgirl had ever even bothered putting it on a mannequin to see how it fit on a real person. On, it was utterly majestic.

Ornette did up the zipper and tapped The Coordinator on the shoulder.

His back was to her and he was talking to someone through an earpiece, but when he absently turned and saw Ornette, he shut up.

Very suddenly, he shut up.

“What is this vision I see before me?” he finally uttered with his eyes as wide as moons.

The skirt of the dress had an extraordinary shape. The top hoop of the skirt did not connect to the waist. It connected at the place where the fullness of the hips stopped and the slimness of her legs began. Then the skirt rose in height on the sides to caress her hips without touching them. It looked like the bottom of the dress was a flower with very few petals and Ornette was rising out of it. It might not have even been a flower. It might have been a dragon’s mouth. It was a shape, but what it was exactly was up to the imagination of the viewer. The beige dress hugged her hips, dipped in at her waist, and rose up around her chest in waves of fabric that may have been transparent, showing her skin, or may have been opaque and only gave the illusion of emptiness.

If the skirt was a flower, Ornette was the stigma.

If the skirt was a dragon, Ornette was the tongue.

No matter which way you viewed it, the sexuality was poignant without being crass because she was fully covered.

It was an achievement.

“That’s why he didn’t need to be there,” The Coordinator whispered. “How interesting.”

“Come on,” Ornette chided. “Call me a paper bag full of groceries.”

The Coordinator looked around her dressing table with searching eyes. “That moron is supposed to be here to help you fit your jewelry if nothing else. Well, if he’s not here, I might as well do the honors.”

With that, The Coordinator helped Ornette with her necklace, her beige feather earrings, and the bracelets she would wear (mostly to cover her Sleeping Beauty Inc. bracelet). They were nothing compared to what she had worn the previous week, but in that case, the jewelry had been the star of the show and not the dress. This week it was the opposite. Then The Coordinator sent her to join the others heading to the stage with a sigh.

When Ornette went through the revolving door, she hoped Desmond would snag her. She hoped he had a job for her. She hoped, but she went through the door without interruption.

Behind the stage curtain, Ornette met up with Westen.

The old businessman looked at her like he didn’t understand what he was looking at. He choked on his words twice before he managed a very ordinary, “Good evening.”

Ornette used her most melodic voice to return the greeting. “Good evening,” sounded very different on her lips than it had on his.

His hands were empty. He didn’t know what to do with them. He didn’t know where to direct his gaze. He didn’t know what to say to Ornette. Her look had knocked the stuffing out of him.

She took his arm and positioned him to escort her on stage and she took charge of their interaction. They would just keep standing there stupidly if she left it to him.

“I so loved visiting your factories. I was greatly impressed with the care you put into the baskets that were sent to your employees. They love working for you so much. You would not believe all the kind things they said about you.”

“Did they?” he asked, pulling at his collar like the room had suddenly gotten too hot for him.

Ornette didn’t want to make the man pass out on the floor, but she did mean to put him in his place with as much kindness as possible. “And I will never forget how kind you have been to me. This dress is extraordinary. You must remember to tell everyone that it is beige and not gold. That way if anyone accuses you of trying to outdo Fen with another gold dress, you have something to say in response. You must also lie to them about how much it cost,” she advised him sagely. “You must say that you hardly spent anything on it. It was almost free.”

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His eyes became wide and perhaps a little bloodshot.

She had guessed it. Somehow, the dress had been free.

“You…” he began slowly, taking his pocket square from his breast pocket and dabbing at his sweaty forehead. “You…”

He didn’t get any further before they were called to the stage.

When they were in front of everyone, he had a teleprompter that showed him what to say… Except he didn’t say what was written. He didn’t say anything. The words on the screen were nothing. They were easy. They just said what she had been doing for him during the last week. They were neither flattering nor condemning. They were nothing. He should have been able to say them. He was a company president. He was in charge of a million things. He had charm, charisma, and vocal cords. There was absolutely no excuse for him to find himself so tongue-tied that he couldn’t say anything.

After allowing Westen a moment to get a grip, it became obvious that he wasn’t going to get one. Ornette pulled him closer to her like the two of them were the closest of friends. The action had the advantage of pulling her closer to the microphone, she said what he was supposed to say, but a little different so that it made sense.

She spoke of her time in the factories and they displayed images of her touring them. There was even a picture of her and Stonic outside the helocarrier.

By the time she’d said every single one of his lines, none of them intended to flatter her, Westen had got a grip on himself.

He took the microphone from her and told the audience. “It may come as a surprise to some of you, but I was disappointed last week when I was chosen to work with Ornette. She seemed like everyone’s darling, but in my experience, ‘everyone’s darling’ isn’t my darling. I thought she’d be arrogant, pushy, and determined in a way that would clash with me, but she has been nothing of the sort. She has been just as beautiful as what you see before you.” He took a step away from her and started clapping for her.

Soon the whole audience was clapping with him.

None of the other models had received an extra applause.

Ornette kissed Westen on both cheeks (she had to hop up a bit to get him), and said goodbye as she went to join the other models on their podiums, but even though she was moving, even though she was blinded by stage lights, she didn’t miss Varner’s expression as he took the stage.

He was irritated.

Then he smiled for the audience and continued his job as MC. They were voting off another contestant. He started the voting.

When the results came in, Varner looked stunned as he read the results on his palm tablet. “We have a tie,” he announced. “For all of you watching at home, we do something special when we have a tie. We have already voted here in the studio, so if we get a tie, we open up voting to the public and let the wider audience decide who will stay on the show and who will go.”

Everything went quiet as Varner prepared to list the names. He could not seem to stop his teeth from scraping in annoyance as he read, “Jane and… Ornette.”

Jane looked horrified that she was up for elimination in the second round. She was blonde. She was pretty. She was probably prettier than Ornette. She did not understand why she had been chosen and she could not conceal how upset she was.

In contrast, Ornette was smiling. She couldn’t help it. The fact that they had chosen her for elimination meant something different in her case. She had done well in every single round. She was beloved by everyone surrounding her. She had pleased everyone. The reason she was selected was because the businessmen (and maybe the designers too) didn’t want to wait to bid on her. They had already seen enough. Why wait when she could be available for purchase that night? If that failed, it was more interesting to try to force Varner to bid on Ornette and get his bid out of the way than to keep her around. If he bid on her, it would effectively ruin his game show.

The whole thing was fascinating.

Except the viewers at home didn’t view it that way at all. They didn’t have the same investment in the show as the men who came on to promote their business or their design company’s reputation. They weren’t taking the losers home as trophies. The viewers just wanted to keep the interesting, pretty people on the show.

At least, that was the way Ornette saw it.

She wasn’t getting voted off, but if there wasn’t a tie, she would be voted off the next week. Just as she said at the beginning, she was going to be one of the first to go. It was nice that it wasn’t for the reason she initially thought.

She was satisfied that she had represented herself well. No matter what happened, whether she was voted off or stayed on, she’d be able to turn the whole thing to her advantage. Whether she got her wish and got to stop working for Sleeping Beauty Inc., or if she had to keep working for them, the money would be better because of her work on the show. She felt confident as they moved her and Jane together on the stage and put a single spotlight on them.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

Varner had to kill time to allow the viewers at home to vote. He turned to Ornette and asked her how she felt about leaving the show if the vote didn’t go in her favor. The cameras were on her, the mics were on, and everyone was listening.

She smiled warmly. “No matter what happens, I just feel grateful to the people who’ve been so kind to me on the show. Everyone has been so generous. I’m full to the brim. I just know that if I’m put up for auction tonight, the man who buys me will be kind to me too. If he’s a designer, we’ll make something beautiful together and if he’s a businessman, we’ll make his company even more spectacular. I’m so full!”

Varner cast his eyes toward her heaving chest. He was pissed. He was concealing it by giving the cameras his profile.

Then he turned to Jane and asked the same question.

Jane was not feeling as steady on her feet as Ornette and she wobbled. Ornette immediately put her arms around her and let Jane use her as a crutch. Finally, Jane said simply, “This has been an experience I will never forget.”

With that, the time they were allowing for voting was over. The voting machines were only open for five minutes, but that was more than enough time to get an idea of how the viewers were voting.

Varner went to announce the winner.

“Ornette,” he said loudly, “will stay on. Jane has been eliminated and will be put up for auction.”

Ornette hugged her. “Sorry,” she whispered into her hair. “I’ll get eliminated next week.”

“You’re sure?” Jane hissed back.

“Yeah,” Ornette hurried to tell her before Jane was whisked off to the platform where they placed her to begin the bids.

Much to Ornette’s delight, her old owner Croix bought Jane and took her away.

Ornette waved to her.

Jane saw the wave, but she did nothing. She took Croix’s arm and went to the back.

It was time to announce who had won immunity for the next round.

Varner announced it was Silvania.

Then he made the biggest announcement of all. “For the fifth week of the show, we’re going to do something a little different. We’re going to play a dating game. We’re going to draw the contestant’s names: three will go to Uncle Bear, three will go to Brother Bear, and four will go to me. We’ll take all our contestants out for dates, and slowly eliminate the undesirables until we land on the contestant of our choice.”

Ornette was bored. She tried not to look bored. The names came out of a brandy glass they were using for drawing names. They were trying to make it look random. It wouldn’t be random. If Ornette had to bet, she would guess that there was nothing written on the papers at all and Varner was just saying the choices the bears had already made.

“Silvania will go to Uncle Bear. Ivanka will go to Brother Bear. Clandestine will go to Varner. Ornette will go to Varner. Tanya will go to Brother Bear. Orpah will go to Varner. Yilin will go to Varner. Claudia will go to Uncle Bear. Starling will go to Uncle Bear. Summer will go to Brother Bear.”

The lineup was hardly shocking.

Ornette clapped and went to the reception where she was mobbed by men asking her what she thought of the possibility of being auctioned off early.

Ornette smiled and brushed off any of their pretended feelings of concern.

They pretended to be shocked that anyone had wanted her off the show and auctioned off when they were the ones who had voted for her to be removed so one of them could take her home.

She pretended to listen.

She pretended to think they were her friends.

She was actually looking over their shoulder hoping to see Desmond. Where was he?

He was nowhere.

She didn’t see him anywhere.

When she left the reception, she went through the revolving door, only to be caught in his arms and pulled into the secret room.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, ready to accept her marching orders.

“Open your mouth,” he said exactly one second before he covered her lips with his.

Ornette was never kissed properly. If her master kissed her, she was usually tasted the way a man would sample a dessert he was planning to spit out. Even when Fen kissed her, she was kissed because he enjoyed the feeling of her under his lips, not because he wanted to evoke a feeling in her. Men like that took pleasure for granted. They expected it.

In contrast, Desmond was on fire and he was trying to set her on fire too.

It was working.

The heat of his breath, the press of his body in the small space, and the rapid rate of his heart, all screamed a kind of oneness Ornette never experienced.

It was overwhelming for her to be set on fire.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I can’t stand this. I bought you. I should be able to have you. Kiss me,” he said, pushing her against the wall.

“I’m going to be missed,” she reminded him between hot kisses.

“I should care. I should care a lot.” He kissed her one more breathless time, sucking the oxygen out of the fire and starving it, before saying harshly, “Fine.” He pushed her back through the revolving door.

Ornette hurried to catch up with Yilin.

“You have no luck with revolving doors.” Yilin threw the words over her shoulder before snapping her head forward and continuing their march to the dressing room.

“I have all the luck with revolving doors,” Ornette disagreed as they hurried down the hall.