Sirenz by Charlotte Bennardo Page A

guys at raves and concerts and clubs, but never someone like him. Friends I was always able to make easily, but not boyfriends. I never got the kind of admiring glances I’d seen guys throw at Shar, and I found it hard to believe that Jeremy was different. I knew my own feelings; the image of his face lingered in my mind since the night at the pizzeria, and the reconnection only intensified things. I couldn’t get his eyes, his lips, his voice out of my mind.
    Then Reynaldo burst into the reception area as if his trousers were on fire.
    â€œThere you are! You two, copy room. Á ndale ! I need the five hundred copies of the programs for tomorrow’s runway show collated and folded, pronto. They’ve just been delivered by the printer. When you’re done, let me know. Oh, there’s just too much to do!” he cried, ushering us away. Jeremy smiled at me and gave a little wave. Shar pressed her lips together and said nothing as we trooped after Reynaldo to the copy room.
    â€œPoor Margaret isn’t feeling well. Laryngitis, I think, isn’t that right, dear?” Demeter’s voice chimed in the hallway behind us.
    â€œDon’t breathe on me, I can not get sick!” Reynaldo squealed and covered his mouth and nose. He thrust us into the copy room and scurried away, screaming, “Someone bring me antibacterial wipes!”
    â€œYou’d better get started,” Demeter sang. She hung in the doorway and glanced at us haughtily. “It doesn’t look like you’ll be leaving here for quite a while.”
    We were surrounded by boxes of programs. Without giving her the satisfaction of a reply, I turned away and got to work. Two hours later, everything was collated, folded, and stacked.
    â€œI need to stretch,” Shar grumbled, flexing arms and legs.
    â€œMe too. I want to get a latte before we get sent on some other petty errand.”
    I led the way to the kitchen. We had just stirred the sugar into our cups when Reynaldo burst in, his sharp, black-outlined eyes glaring at us.
    â€œThis is no time for a break! Did I say you could take a break? Oh!” He fanned his face like he was going to faint. “We have to move fast, ladies! Get yourselves straight to the Purple Salon. V á monos !” He clapped his hands and hustled us out the door. He glanced at his watch and his face registered panic.“Come, come!”
    Down we shuffled to the Purple Salon. When we were all in, he shut the door behind us. The room was a sty. Pins, paper, fabric scraps, pencils, and coffee cups were all over the floor, and the walls were lined with rolling racks of clothes, all sealed in plastic garment bags. In the center of the room was a dais with a drape around it.
    â€œBehold House of Romanov’s summer collection! Isn’t it divine?” He didn’t wait for an answer from us. “As you can see, this place is a mess! Jeremy is going to bring Mr. Arkady down to approve the accessories before tomorrow’s runway show. I need you to clean up and get out before he comes in. Mr. Romanov does not like anyone around him. I’ll pop in and give you a one-minute warning.” He patted his chest like he was having heart palpitations and flew out the door, his hand still thumping. He needed to self-medicate.
    We surveyed the room.
    â€œWhat bomb went off in here?” Shar said, propping the glasses on her head. She started picking things up off the floor and throwing them in the garbage. “But did you hear what he said? Arkady is coming down here! We might actually see him!” She walked over to the dais and stared at it. “What do you think this is?”
    She pushed the drape back, revealing a platform upon which stood a dress form draped in a silken sheath.
    â€œWow,” Shar breathed. “This must be their anchor piece. It’s amazing! It’s …”
    â€œâ€¦ a beige dress. Those glasses are really starting to affect