“I know. It’s still weird.”
“When did you want to do it?” I asked, straining to get back to the topic.
“What?” Kelly turned to me. “Oh, I was hoping by the end of next week. I don’t want the offer to grow too cold, you know?”
“Gotcha,” I said, deep in thought. “I don’t know who I can grab with that kind of notice. How many girls do you need?”
“Just one. I want to keep it simple.”
“What about you?” Dad asked Kelly. “It’s your line. You’re a pretty girl. Couldn’t you do it?”
“Personally I don’t have any issue doing it. Hell I wear the clothes anyway but isn’t that a little tacky to showcase your own line like that?” asked Kelly.
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t recommend it. You want it to appear like your line is for anyone and everyone. That message might not come across if all they see is you in your clothes.”
“Hell, then use your mom.”
“Charles!” She smacked him again.
“What? Why not?”
My eyes quickly darted up to our mother. I never really looked at her in detail either, but she is where Kelly gets most of her charms. She possessed many of the fair traits of both her Irish and Japanese lineage. Deep and dark red hair she kept cut just below her shoulders. Green, almond shaped eyes with a fair complexion and rosy cheeks, though that may have been the wine. To be honest, she’d be perfect.
“Oh that would be so awesome Mom! Please! It’s just a couple dresses and swimsuits!” Kelly pleaded.
“Swimsuits, nice!” I joked.
“Jason!” Mom glared at me.
“Hey, don’t mind me. I’m just the photographer.” I laughed. “I’m sure they’re not bad anyway, Mom. It’s not like your daughter’s been spending hours on end crafting bikinis.”
Kelly appeared to shrink in her chair as silence filled the air.
“They’re bikinis, aren’t they?” Mom asked.
Kelly replied with a sheepish nod.
I looked from Kelly to my mother. I could sense glimmer of apprehension. “Well Mom,” I said with a shrug, “I’m down if you are. It’s always exciting working with a new model. You game?”
She glanced my way, giving me just a moment to see a sparkle in her eye. With a smile, Mom shrugged her shoulders. “The things I do for my kids,” she drained her glass in one gulp and nodded.
An hour later, glasses refilled and bellies full, Kelly and I were down in her workspace; our former basement. The walls were newly painted and now holding clippings from various fashion magazines. Several sizing mannequins and sewing machines were residing now where my first dark room used to be. Oh well, C’est la vie.
“They’re right over here,” she said as she grabbed a rolling garment rack and flipped through the hangers mumbling yes’s and no’s as she selected her line-up. Finally with a handful, she laid them out on her work station.
“Alright,” she sighed. “What do you think?”
“You did all this?” I asked picking up a red summer dress.
“Yup.” She fidgeted and sipped her wine. “That’s one of my favorites.”
I set it down and picked up another. “This is incredible, Kelly.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Absolutely. I’m impressed, seriously. Are you sure you have enough time to size them all to Mom?” I asked.