Page 49 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Two

“Lemme introduce you to Lo,” Catalina says, glancing at herwatch. “We got a lot of ground to cover before the show starts, and we’redealing with a bunch of amateurs today.”

“I thought I saw some big-time models.” I follow her,shifting the bag on my shoulder as we pick our way over the chaos on the floorand the racks of clothing parked throughout the space.

“Watch your step,” she warns. “It’s a mess back here. Yeah,some great models, for sure, but I’d say half the guys are ballers.”

“You mean like—”

“Basketball players.” Catalina shootsme a bright grin. “You know Lotus is married to Kenan Ross.”

“He’s retired, right?”

“Not too long ago, but he’s still got a lot of friends onthe San Diego Waves and all throughout the league. He called in some favors.Lotta folks want to see these guys strutting down the catwalk. Good for HarborHouse.”

When she says San Diego Waves, a kernel of uneasetakes root in my belly. I barely have time to consider why before we reach apetite woman on her knees with pins in her mouth, kneeling in front of astatuesque model whose dress she’s tugging.

“Lo,” Catalina says, bending a little to catch the populardesigner’s attention. “I want you to meet someone if you have a sec.”

“Oh, sure.” Lotus stretches a hand up to the model, whogently pulls until Lotus is standing to her full, if modest, height.

“You’re pregnant!” I blurt, staring at her rounded belly.

“Looks that way.” Lotus laughs, rubbing her stomach throughthe sheer, brightly patterned caftan that falls to her knees over wide-leggedflowing pants and silk slippers. Small she may be, but there is something regaland commanding about her that draws the eye and refuses to let go.

“I’m sorry.” I shake my head, feeling like an idiot.“Congratulations. I just didn’t know.”

“My husband Kenan is…” She rolls her eyes, tosses a swatheof platinum braids over her shoulder, and smiles. “Paranoid. We didn’t tellanyone for a long time, and since I’m not the biggest chick to begin with, itwas a while before I started showing. Anyway, yeah. Six months.”

“And flyer than ever,” Catalina purrs, side-hugging Lotus.“Lo, this is Takira, the makeup artist I told you about from DessiBlue.”

“I’m so excited for that movie,” Lotus says, her eyeswidening. “Please tell me it’ll be out soon.”

“Depends on what you mean by soon.” I laugh. “We justwrapped, so I think they’re editing and finalizing.”

“I’ve heard Canon Holt is a genius.” Lotus’s eyes and nimblefingers stray back to the dress worn by the patiently waiting model. “And thisnew actress, Neevah. Heard great things about her,too.”

“She’s spectacular.” I beam, unable to check my pride in mybest friend.

“Takira may be slightly biased,” Catalina chuckles, “sincethey’re roommates.”

“Former roommates,” I correct.

“I did hear she and Canon are dating now,” Lotus says, hereyes flicking from the collar of the dress she’s pinning back to my face,speculation in her gaze. “What a gorgeous couple.”

“Speaking of gorgeous couples,” Catalina says. “Wanna showTakira all the handsome boys she gets to power today?”

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.” Lotusnods at the model and sends her to a nearby makeup station. “Yours are allgrumps whose arms I had to twist twice around to get them to do this show.Follow me.”

Lotus walks ahead, her confident stride leading us throughthe maze of stations and bags.

“Some of these guys are former teammates of Kenan’s,” shetosses over her shoulder. “Some, just players from around the League. All ofthem have hearts of gold and really want to help raise money for Harbor House.”

We walk quickly through the space, but I absorb as manydetails as I can. One particularly glamorous updo of bright pink hair turns myhead, so I don’t notice the overstuffed bag in my path. My feet slip from underme and there’s no time to catch myself. Grappling with my own heavy bag, Iyelp, halfway bracing for the inevitable fall…but it doesn’t come. Instead Itumble into something hard, a wall of muscle and heat. Big arms enfold me, andI find myself pressed to a mountain of good-smelling man.

“I’m so sorry,” I sputter, dragging my eyes from the wideexpanse of white T-shirt stretched across a broad chest. “I…”

The rest of my apology slithers back down my throat,swallowed by a gasp of shock. I haven’t seen the face above me in a longtime—at least, not in person. The dark skin and carved bone structure is leanerand more pronounced now than it was before. Same square chin and bold nose andheavy brows. The guarded eyes are paradoxically framed by a feathering of long,curling lashes. He’s still as arresting as he was the day I met him when I waseighteen years old, but I never thought I’d come face-to-face with him again.

“Takira,” he says, the same surprise coloring his voice thatI’m sure is scrawled all over my face.