The Model Spy

Chapter 15 - Dylan's Ideas

Despite everything going on at the agency and the impending fashion show, the models had another half-day at work the next morning. Clipboard Girl ended up having to go to the hospital. The doctors thought she had an ulcer or something. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she did, given the never-ending amount of stress she put herself under. I shouldn’t have been talking, though. I wasn’t exactly all that relaxed either. This case was not helping my stress-management.

As I walked into the familiar old building, greeting the security guard as I entered, I heard two voices coming from Madeline’s studio. Involuntarily, I turned towards Zach but remembered he wasn’t with me. He was still outside, searching for a parking spot, which, in this city, was about as easy as spotting Waldo.

I neared Madeline’s door quietly. It was cracked open slightly, allowing me to peek into the design studio. Madeline was sitting at her desk, Dylan pacing back and forth in front of her. I didn’t see Madeline’s face, but I saw Dylan’s. And he didn’t look happy.

“I’m so sick of this!” he exclaimed.

“You signed up for the job!” Madeline retorted in a tone I had never heard from her before. It was very sharp and to the point, far-fetched from the grandmotherly one she used with me.

“I didn’t know what I was getting myself into!” he countered. Suddenly, his eyes looked up to the door. I tried to get out of the way, but I wasn’t quick enough. Dylan gave me a warm smile, despite how angry he sounded only a few seconds prior. “I have to go,” he told Madeline. I expected her to turn around and say hi, but she went back to working at her desk without a word.

Dylan came out into the hallway, closing the door lightly behind him. “Sorry you had to hear that,” he apologized. He didn’t wait for me to ask for an explanation. “I’ve been a little stressed lately with all of the shows and photo shoots.” He ran a hand through his hair, distracting me for a moment with his soft locks. “I didn’t think it would be this hard. Madeline lets me vent to her.” He gazed at me with his emerald eyes. “Seeing you makes everything better, though.”

I smiled and bashfully nudged him. “You’re so cheesy!”

He laughed out loud. “Let’s go to the studio. We have some pictures to take!”

I watched him closely. Dylan didn’t look sick. I was going to ask him why he really wasn’t at work yesterday because I wasn’t buying that lovesick excuse he scribbled in that letter. But, at the same time, it wasn’t my business. If he was a suspect, well, that would have been another thing. But I couldn’t find any reason as to why Dylan would be killing models. He was the type of person who wanted to make out with models, or so Zach had said at breakfast that morning while I reread Dylan’s letter for the hundredth time.

After several long hours, Dylan set his camera down around lunch, signaling that my horrendous shoot was done. I was terrible at modeling. Tyra would have cut me already. The only reason I hadn’t been fired yet was because of the case. Fred had connections with someone high up in the modeling industry. I didn’t know how or why he had those connections. I didn’t want to ask. But, as a result, it was impossible for me to get fired.

“Are you doing anything the rest of the day?” Dylan asked me at my makeup table. I saw Zach look at him over the top of the French newspaper he was “reading.” It was upside down.

“Um…” I looked at Zach’s dark eyes for an answer. They narrowed above the page. That meant no.

“I don’t think I can,” I told Dylan. Immediately, his shoulders dropped. I felt my heart break a little. He was like a cute, red-haired puppy. I didn’t want to make him sad, but if I wanted to get technical, it was his own fault he wanted to get close to me, a spy who was banned from having any social life.