Ugly Ronney: mafia romance [English]

Chapter 19-4

A woman bumped into me in the hallway with a wheeled crate and immediately made an apologetic gesture to me. About a hundred people were gathered in the amazing and sophisticated space, which had been rented for the occasion. The huge warehouse with its glass ceiling was divided into different floors, which gave the impression of being in a giant anthill.

Backstage, I looked for Peter. I couldn't call him; his line was constantly busy.

"Peter?" I asked a lighting engineer.

He pointed to the right wing at the back of the building.

Camilia's assistant was checking the inventory of boxes filled with cosmetic products.

"Tanning products, okay. Gloss, one fifty, okay. Hairspray... Shit, there's not enough. There are ten or so missing. They're going to hear from me, those idiots!"

Peter abruptly interrupted his monologue when he saw me.

"You've got to be kidding me, Jimenez! Where have you been? Do you really think this is the best day to go for a walk? I called you so many times."

He sighed, annoyed, and went back to his list. I walked over to him.

"I tried to call you, too. I had something to do this morning."

Peter angrily raised his head and shouted through clenched teeth, "It's the last time I cover for you with Camilia!"

The slight smile on my lips set him off. He put a hand on his hips and lifted his chin towards me.

"Oh, I see. Miss thinks she can get away with anything. You just stand there looking at me with that insolent look. Don't let it get to your head, Jimenez, I warn you!"

As Peter ranted, ready to throw his paper and pencil at me, I found it harder and harder to keep from laughing. I decided to stop provoking him any longer and gave him my biggest smile, revealing a row of white teeth.

His expression abruptly changed before freezing, amazed. Staggering, he stepped back while whispering, "Lord, that smile could wipe out an army."

Emotion crossed his features.

"Am I forgiven?"

"You are!"

Peter shook his head and looked around to get his thoughts together.

"Now that I'm here, where do I start?"

Still in shock, he pointed to a chair.

"Take notes. I'll give you the instructions."

Camilia seemed calm and impassive in appearance, but in reality, she was subject to lively interior agitation. Like Peter, it had taken her a few minutes to recover from my new smile, which considerably changed my appearance.

After going over many details with me, she said with a small wink, "I really like the new Ronney."

I blushed at these words. It would take me a little while to get used to all the changes. On the other hand, I didn't miss my baggy pants and large T-shirts.

As the hours went by, the tension rose in everyone. The models had arrived and were starting their fittings for last-minute adjustments. It was difficult to find a way backstage because of all the commotion.

"Bring the food and drinks!" ordered Peter to a group of assistants.

"Aren't the models on a diet?" I asked, surprised by this decision.

"That's right, and have been for months! But tonight, the girls will be wearing dresses that can weigh up to thirty-three pounds because of the stones, diamonds, and other accessories sewn onto them. Believe me, they will need strength and energy."

While I was putting the sketches of the models' faces in their places so the makeup artists could practice on them, famous singers were rehearsing the performances they would be doing live in a few hours. I had to hurry because I had to welcome the sponsors, the journalists from global media, and the bloggers who were coming.

The excitement grew as time went by. Through the transparent roof of the warehouse, the sun's rays were gradually disappearing, replaced by night. The fashion show would soon begin, but there were still a hundred things to do. Stress was at its peak.

In the podium room, I checked the seats for the celebrities in the first row. Camilia had switched some people around. With the labels in hand, I took care of this mission before the guests arrived. Soon, all these empty chairs would be occupied.

Behind the scenes, the models posed for the photographers, which annoyed Peter. The beauty team was ready; the models had to start their makeup.

I took a sip of fresh water from a bottle. It tasted great.

"Ronney! We don't have time to rest. The show starts in a few minutes." Peter clapped his hands together and sighed exasperatedly to make me hurry. "Are the Khan girls ready?"

"Yes," I answered. "They are with Camilia in the dressing room, Hadriel is with them. The girls are going last, just before Carla, who is closing the show with the Balmain dress." I shook my head before continuing in a disapproving tone, "My God, that dress is outrageously see-through."

"Ronney, it's fashion. The lace is in the right place. We can't see anything. Carla won't be naked, it's just an optical effect. The disdain you have for the dress is just astonishing. It's a work of art."

I barely avoided a group of people coming at me. Peter looked at his watch. Before he turned to go to the backstage area, I grabbed his arm.

"Will Yeraz be here tonight?"

Camilia's assistant crossed his arms and glared at me.

"Put Yeraz aside! I need you to be completely available tonight."

I looked at him with insistence. Peter raised his arms to the sky.

"No, he has an important meeting. What would you want him to do here? Camilia tried to drag him by force, despite what Hadriel thought, but in vain. Now, go bring drinks to the models and check that they are in the right order for the show."

I tried to hide my immense disappointment with a small nod, but Peter couldn't be fooled.

I watched Hadriel in the distance. With his hands in his pockets, he was whispering in the ear of a model with long blonde hair, willing to be seduced. Their little game of seduction had started a few hours ago. In the audience, the guests were pouring in while backstage the pressure was at its peak.

Suddenly, the distressed shouts of a designer drew our attention. Peter immediately went to see to him. I decided to follow him.

"Carla just collapsed. An ambulance is taking her to the hospital."

The tall, thin man with bleached hair had a strong Italian accent and held the Balmain dress in his hands. Peter's face turned pale. I could feel him losing his mind. He nervously wiped his forehead.

"No," whispered Peter. "My God, this is a disaster. Bitch!"

Feeling all the stares on us, I improvised and said in a loud voice, "Everything is fine. Return to your positions!"

Why had I said that? My intervention, however, allowed all the teams to continue their work. Peter dragged us away in a hurry, the stylist and me, into Camilia's dressing room.