Darn Knit All (All Access #3)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

THEO

Mai

I think I want to climb a mountain

Theo

You hate physical exercise

Mai

Says who?

Theo

You. You literally complained the entire time I took you hiking

Mai

Your version of hiking involved snakes, wolves and a snowstorm. I feel my protests were justified

Theo

It wasn’t that bad

Mai

Tell that to the rangers who had to carry you out…

Theo

And here I was thinking you liked adventure

A irport security always took forever when I traveled. They’d spend extra time doing pat downs and chemical testing to make sure I wasn’t smuggling drugs or ammunition in through my prosthetic.

“And arms,” the bored security guard said, gesturing for me to lift them.

“Don’t worry, the only thing I’m packing is a shit-ton of cheese in my bag,” I told him with a wink.

The guard ignored me, completing his examination.

Guess he didn’t enjoy my cheese jokes.

With a few swipes of some pads, he checked for chemical residue, then dismissed me.

“Next,” he called, turning away.

Free to go, I picked up my bag and made my way to where Mai stood, fiddling anxiously as she glanced around the airport.

“All done?” she asked.

I nodded, watching as she tapped the fingertips of one hand against the ring I’d given her. The Morse-code-like movement had become a tell for her stress levels.

I caught her hand, gently squeezing until her fingers relaxed.

“We’re down here,” I said, leading her toward the terminal. “But you already knew that.”

Her cheeks flushed and she dipped her head, hiding her face behind her curtain of ebony hair. “I may have glanced at the board.”

Mai never left anything to chance. She did better with certainties, working through her anxiety by understanding how things were laid out, what was expected of her, how she should dress or behave. Her overpreparation had saved my bacon a time or two, but I knew it cost her mentally and physically.

Following an uneventful plane ride, we were met at the airport by a smiling, peppy young man with the unexpected name of Bruce. Bruces in my opinion were men who sprouted from the earth at the age of forty, with peppered beards, pot bellies and who only drank beer that came in cans.

This Bruce seemed determined to shake my belief in the name to the core. He appeared to be no older than twenty-one, had lime-green hair with a single flop of ice white at his left temple that contrasted sharply with his fake tan. He wore the shit out of a crisp flowing dress that looked like it came from a scene in The Devil Wears Prada .

I glanced down at my own simple plaid button-up and jeans. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

Mai clutched my hand as we followed him.

“This way!” Bruce said, quickly navigating the crowds of the airport. “We’ll need to hurry if we’re going to make it on time. The other couples all landed yesterday, but there was an issue booking your tickets so late—that’s what happens when you’re a last-minute addition.”

Mai stumbled and I caught her, holding her close.

“An addition?” she repeated.

“Yeah.” Bruce nodded. “The other couple broke up. Completely understandable—they were nightmares throughout this whole casting process. We were desperate and you two seemed like the best option to replace them at short notice.”

He held the door open for us and we stepped into the midafternoon sun.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“You’re from a small town, determined to make it big. You’re unknowns on the fashion circuit, and while your design samples were good….” He made a gesture with his hands that I took to mean he wasn’t overly impressed with Mai’s efforts.

I bristled. “Are you saying that?—”

“Here it is,” Bruce interrupted, ignoring me.

A black limo slid into the pickup space, idling by the curb.

“Theo.”

I glanced down at Mai, my jaw clenched. She smiled up at me, her expression serene.

“It’s okay,” she assured me, squeezing my hand. “We knew coming in we were the underdogs. It’s not a problem.”

I blew out a breath. “You’re right.” I forced a smile. “Should we make underdog t-shirts to wear on our first day? Perhaps a hound dog expression with ‘Underdogs are the best dogs’ written above it.”

Mai snorted. “We’d be tossed out.”

“You say that, and yet I’ve seen some of the things celebrities wear.” I helped her slide into the back of the limo. “Our shirt would be iconic.”

“I doubt that very much.”

Bruce followed me in then shut the door, sealing us into the dim interior.

I’d never traveled in a limo before and was surprised to find it… underwhelming. Oh, sure there were snacks, interesting lighting, and a cool partition that separated us from the driver, but otherwise, it was just a car. And cars didn’t hold any appeal for me.

The woman seated beside me, dressed in a cute sundress of her own making, however…

“Theo!”

I pulled my hand back from the control panel, flashing Mai a sheepish grin. “What?”

She inclined her head toward the driver. “I’m sure they don’t enjoy you opening and closing the partition repeatedly.”

I muttered something petulant under my breath but leaned back in my seat.

Bruce laughed, holding up his phone. “You mind scooting closer together? I want to snap a picture of you two for our socials.”

We exchanged a glance but did as asked. Bruce twisted this way and that, taking picture after picture, directing us to “look natural” and “smile more.”

How one smiled with all their teeth while looking natural I would never know.

A tinge of exhaustion hit me as the limo pulled into the hotel driveway. My residual limb had begun to throb on the plane—no doubt a mixture of swelling from the pressure and from all the walking on slippery surfaces—tiles were the bane of my existence.

“I’m looking forward to room service and bed,” I admitted quietly to Mai as we shuffled to exit the limo.

“Oh, did I not mention tonight’s events?” Bruce asked, overhearing our conversation.

“Mention what?” I asked, straightening from the car.

“We have interviews scheduled followed by welcome drinks. You’ll meet the host and the other teams. It’s compulsory.”

Mai and I exchanged a frustrated look.

“No,” I said tightly. “It must have slipped your mind while you were taking a million pictures of our shoes.”

He chuckled, seemingly oblivious to my sarcasm. “Don’t worry, makeup is on standby and will have you looking incredible before you can even blink.”

“Will there be food?” Mai asked, patting her stomach. “I don’t think I’ll be able to form a sentence if I’m not fed.”

Bruce pulled out his phone, swiping rapidly. “The schedule doesn’t mention eating, but I’ll see that something is delivered. Though” —he sniffed delicately— “you really should have eaten on the plane.”

“How silly of us,” I drawled, clutching a hand to my chest. “We shall make a note to do so next time.”

Mai elbowed me in the side, a not-so-subtle hint.

I glanced down at her, our gazes meeting in a silent conversation.

Play nice.

I frowned, tipping my head toward Bruce.

I don’t want to. The guy is an ass.

She sighed, her expression turning pleading.

Please?

Rolling my eyes, I dropped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into my side.

“Only for you,” I murmured against her ear. “But if there’s no food in the next fifteen minutes, all bets are off.”

Our bags were handed off to a doorman before Bruce ushered us through the doors of the beautiful hotel, through another set of doors, and into a conference room that had been repurposed into a studio. The second our feet crossed the threshold a whirlwind of activity engulfed us.

“Smile,” an audio tech barked at me as she ripped my shirt from my body and began to strap a microphone to my chest. “You’re about to be a star.”

Microphone strapped down, my shirt was quickly replaced by a different woman who ushered us forward. Tall and lean, she had the kind of mannerisms that reminded me of a person who’d had three cups too many coffee. We followed, listening as she pointed out different areas of the staging. While she moved confidently through the chaos, Mai and I struggled, dodging bustling crew who were more focused on their miles of cables than the fresh meat walking by.

“I’m the director. You’re on my set,” the woman said, flicking dark-brown hair away from her tired face. “Which means I own you. When I say jump, you don’t ask how high, you just jump. Got me?”

I bristled, glancing at Mai. Her expression had blanked, but I read panic in her eyes. That panic was enough to calm whatever annoyance I felt. I was here for her—not me. I needed to check my ego at the door and just go with the flow.

We nodded, Mai’s hand finding mine as we walked.

“Good. We’re going to do couple interviews. You sit on a couch, you answer all the questions, and then you get to go join the other contestants at the party. Got me?”

I shot Mai a teasing look. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

The imposing woman glanced at me over her shoulder, her gaze narrowing. “A joker, are you? We’ll see how much you’re laughing once the competition starts.”

I exchanged a look with Mai, feeling strangely like a scolded schoolboy.

“She doesn’t like you,” Mai whispered, barely containing her laughter. “We’re already off to a horrible start.”

“No one hates me,” I said confidently. “They just don’t know they like me yet.”

“Sit. It’s time to prove you can charm the public.” The director clapped her hands like we were schoolkids and not grown-ass adults.

“What’s your name?” I asked, as we sat.

“Celeste, but you can call me sir.”

I swallowed a laugh. “Yes, sir.”

From seemingly nowhere, makeup artists appeared, plastering my face with creams and dust and something they called setting spray before scurrying off to leave us alone with the host of the show—Michelle Conliam.

Once named one of the most beautiful women in the world, the former model hadn’t lost an ounce of her charisma since her retirement. Her brown skin gleamed under the studio lights, and despite now being in her mid-forties, her close-cropped black hair showed only the faintest of gray in the strands.

She wore a dress that put me in mind of dancing—a red flirty number that clung to her frame and showed off her sinuous, lean limbs.

“Welcome,” she said warmly, clasping first Mai’s hands, then mine. “I’m so pleased to meet you both. Are you excited to be here?”

Mai nodded mutely, forcing me to step in.

“Thrilled,” I said, covering for her. “But a little shell-shocked, if I’m honest. Ain’t every day you’re flown halfway across the country and dropped into a set like this.”

Michelle chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll look after you.”

“And, three, two, one, action!” a man with a clapboard yelled, smacking the board before stepping out of view.

Under the glaring lights of the interview set, I could feel every ounce of makeup caked on my face as the host fired questions about our “relationship.”

I shot Mai a quick glance, registering her frozen expression and the vacant look in her eyes.

Fuck.

Her hands were clasped in her lap, but I could see her fingers tap-tap-tapping up and down the back of her hand.

Come on, Mai. You can do it.

When she didn’t speak, I decided to intervene. Casually, I shifted across the couch until I could press my side against hers. Wrapping one arm over her shoulders, I took her hands in mine and settled them on my lap.

She glanced up at me, but I ignored her, staring at Michelle.

“What do you like best about Mai?” Michelle asked, her expression amused.

“What’s not to like?” I responded lightly. “She’s an incredible human. She’s the kind of person who sees a family on an outing and offers to take a photo of all of them because she doesn’t want anyone to miss out on being in the memory.”

Mai stiffened beside me, her head tilting back as she stared up at me.

“When we go out, it’ll always take us twice as long to get to where we’re going because she can’t just walk from A to B. She wants to take the longer route—moving this way and that to capture all the things that life offers.”

I huffed out a laugh. “The first time we went on a hike she brought a plastic bag with her to collect rubbish. She never made a big deal about it, but I noticed because that’s the kind of person she is—kind and generous and someone who cares about the small stuff. The people in her life know we matter to her because she lets us know every day how she feels in a million different ways.”

I glanced down at her, seeing her wide eyes.

“What?” I asked defensively. “It’s true.”

“I never… I didn’t know you thought that.”

I brushed the back of my knuckles against her cheek. “You’re an easy person to love.”

As a friend… right? my inner voice wanted to know.

Michelle gently broke the tension simmering between us.

“And you, Mai? What do you like best about Theo?”

Mai’s gaze stayed locked with mine.

“Everything.” The corners of her lips lifted, her gaze warming. “Theo’s like a rainbow after the rain. No matter how bleak the day may have been, no matter how hopeless the situation seems, he appears, and you just know everything is going to work out. Not because it’s better, but because he makes it easier to bear. He stands beside you, encouraging you, supporting you, being this practical but funny guy. He makes you believe you can conquer the world.”

My chest tightened, and I found myself swallowing a lump that had formed in my throat.

This isn’t real. It’s all make-believe.

“Is that why you entered this competition?” Michelle asked.

Slowly, seemingly reluctantly, Mai pulled her gaze away from me to answer Michelle. “I didn’t actually enter,” she admitted. “Theo did it for me. I’d have never had the courage.”

Michelle sighed dreamily. “What a wonderful relationship. Now, let’s move on to something fun. Favorite thing to do together?”

“Easy,” I replied. “Eat late-night ramen and binge old sitcoms.”

“Your design style?”

Mai lifted her hands, finally relaxing enough to become lost in the conversation. “I’m passionate about sustainability. My designs are all about wearability. I want people to be able to take something and wear it time and time again, and for it to continue to feel new and different each time.”

“I love that,” Michelle said, clapping her hands. “I can’t wait to see what you bring to this competition.”

After what felt like an eternity of probing, we were finally released into the wild—also known as the mixer.

Exhausted—and me with a headache building—we walked into the room to find the event in full swing. The studio had chosen this hotel as it had a giant convention space attached. It was in the convention warehouse that they’d created a decadent fashion show space, complete with a stage and runway.

I glanced around, trying to figure out if this is where we’d be filming or if they had another, separate space set up.

Music pumped over the loudspeakers, while the crowd shuffled and flowed, bumping against us. The lights in the room were dim with spotlights highlighting models who stood on small platforms around the room.

“They’re wearing designs by the judges,” Mai said, hushed reverence in her voice. “That one is worth millions of dollars—I think one of the royal family wore it.”

I glanced at the dress but was more interested in finding some chow. “Do you think there’s food here?

Mai raised up on tiptoe, trying to peek over the top of the crowd. “I can’t see anything.”

I sighed heavily. “Guess we better wander around and see what we can scavenge. I’m not above cannibalism at this point.”

Mai linked her arm with mine. “Chin up, we can hit room service soon.”

Gorgeous people in gorgeous clothing stood everywhere, chatting and laughing as they sipped wine and admired the models. In my ear, Mai kept up a running commentary of who was who, regularly gasping and fangirling over different designers and models as they moved around us.

I knew she was talented; it’s why I’d wanted her to be on this show. But seeing her here, in this room, surrounded by people she followed and designers she admired, I discovered a new side to Mai I hadn’t known existed.

She belongs.

“Jesus,” I murmured to Mai as we passed yet another cluster of people dressed in every shade of black. “Are we at a fashion show or a funeral?”

She snorted, leaning into my side. “Charcoal and taupe are very popular this season.”

I looked pointedly at her pastel blue dress.

“I know,” she laughed. “I prefer color. It’s very last season.”

I glanced down at the outfit she’d made me. While I’d been working around the clock to master the basics, Mai had laid down some serious thread to craft me a wardrobe for the competition.

“I need to represent myself,” she’d explained, crouching between my legs as she’d pinned my inseam. “Which means you need to be wearing designs by me.”

“I’d wear a napkin if you made it,” I’d said loyally.

“Let’s hope I can pull together something a little more concealing. No one wants to see your ass on TV.”

“Not when you can see it in real life, right?” I’d asked with a grin, flexing my ass cheeks.

She’d blushed and made me pay for my teasing by forcing me to try and create a three-piece suit. Torture.

We made our way around the room, finally finding a waiter offering canapes and some decidedly non-alcoholic drinks.

“You must be the last couple,” a warm voice said, interrupting Mai’s explanation of the beauty of one of the outfits on display. “I’m Gretchen Mishra, and this is my partner, Jodie.”

We turned to find a middle-aged couple standing behind us. They wore matching outfits of sparkling leather pants, and fringed vests. It was like Dolly Parton had designed it.

“I’m Mai and this is Theo,” Mai said, introducing us. “We’re excited to be here.”

We chatted for a bit, Mai asking about their designs and background while I listened politely. The pair were from Chars. They’d met at design school, and fused Gretchen’s Pakistani heritage with Jodie’s passion for grunge and country, opening an urban street wear brand that specialized in servicing actors and music artists.

“We better keep circulating,” Jodie said reluctantly, glancing over Mai’s shoulder. “I’d love to stay but you’re about to be interrogated by the ice twins.”

“Ice?” I asked, turning to follow their gaze. “What do you mean?”

Gretchen and Jodie faded away as another couple approached. They wore matching tight-fitting suits and looked more like a brother and sister ready for a red-carpet affair rather than this casual party.

“Jude,” the taller of the two said, presenting his hand to me. “And you are?”

I felt Mai shrink beside me, crowding closer. I’d begun to relax, thinking this seemed like a nice place—apart from the overly stressed director. Seeing the way the guy looked down his nose at us, I could see my assumption may have been premature.

I took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Theo and Mai, pleased to meet you.”

“Quite,” Jude said, eyeing Mai. “I know you from somewhere. Tell me how.”

She hesitated, a flush dusting her cheeks. “I took your course three years ago.”

Jude’s gaze narrowed on Mai. “You cried.”

Mai hunched her shoulders, nodding.

He tutted under his breath.

Unimpressed, I wrapped an arm around Mai, hauling her into my side.

“And which houses have you interned?” Keeley asked, sniffing delicately.

The two of them gave me strong villain vibes, and I did not like that for us.

“Mai’s house,” I said easily. “She’s a great teacher.”

Mai spluttered as Keeley and Jude stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.

“They mean fashion houses,” Mai corrected gently. “But Theo’s correct. He’s only ever worked with me.”

As if they’d practiced it, the two evildoers exchanged a glance and as one, dismissed us as competition.

Keeley’s gaze dropped to my prosthetic. “Are you the sob story, hired to pull the ratings?”

I chuckled at their obvious attempts to intimidate me—the one guy who had zero skin in this game—but Mai didn’t seem to be on the same page. She bristled, stepping in front of me.

“That was rude,” she informed her, her expression fierce. “Theo and I are here to win this.”

“Best of luck with that,” Jude said with an insincere smirk. “I don’t think you’ll be able to cry yourself to victory.”

Hot rage burned through me like wildfire, but I bit my tongue, determined to take the high road with these two wankers.

“Good luck,” I responded sweetly, taking hold of Mai before she began to scratch their eyes out. “Buh-bye now.”

She allowed me to drag her away but not before loudly voicing her protest.

“I could have taken them,” she spat, glaring over her shoulder.

“I know, babe. But they’re not worth it. They’ll learn how wrong they are when you win this thing.”

Mai straightened her dress, flicking agitatedly at her skirts. “We don’t have to win, we just have to beat them.”

“Noted. Now, what’s this about crying and a course?”

“Oh man,” Mai crumbled. “It’s so embarrassing. Yasmin and Maeve sent me to a course a few years ago. Keeley is one of the world’s best corset designers. Everything was going well until the end of the week when I started getting anxious about the judging—we had to present in front of a room and I despise public speaking. I freaked myself out and burst into tears just as I finished presenting.”

She shook her head, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“I take it the Douche Canoes weren’t exactly sympathetic.”

“Jude asked me to leave.”

I winced. “Ouch.”

She sighed heavily. “I did a really good job too.”

“Changing topic, how soon before we can blow this popsicle joint?” I asked, ready to find a bed.

“Surely soon. They know we’ve been up since dawn. They can’t expect us to hang around much longer.”

But alas, our prayers were not to be answered.

“Contestants, can you approach the stage please?”

We exchanged a glance as we walked up, taking our position as directed.

“And 3, 2—” The director pointed at the stage.

Music began to pump over the loud system as the lights dimmed. On the far side of the room sat a stage, from which Michelle walked out, a spotlight following her catwalk. She’d changed in the hour since we’d left her side, and now wore a ball gown fit for the red carpet.

My stomach sank like a stone when I spotted camera crews making their way toward the competing couples.

Shit.

If this went how I anticipated, we weren’t getting to bed any time soon.

My stomach grumbled loudly, issuing a protest.

“Welcome, competitors!” Michelle called, striking a pose. “Are you ready to take the fashion world by storm?”

Around us, the crowd cheered while Mai and I stood quietly.

“This year, six fashion-forward couples are fighting to create fabulous looks that will leave us breathless.” Michelle threw her arms out to the audience, and a spotlight hit us, blinding me.

Fuck!

“This is the moment when thread and fabric weave together to create a dream. But will you succeed, or will the pressure of the competition unravel all you’ve worked so hard to achieve?”

I leaned over to whisper in Mai’s ear. “This is some of the corniest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Shh,” she hushed. “We need to focus.”

Michelle explained the terms of the show and how the lowest performing couples would be eliminated until a champion could be crowned. The dollar figures danced a cancan in my head, while an image of Mai’s ecstatic face swam before me.

I’m gonna do everything in my power to help her to win.

“Your first challenge is to create a fabulous feminine red-carpet look.” Michelle dipped, showing off her dress. “This is a non-elimination round, but while the pressure might be off, I’m about to turn the heat up.”

She spun, holding out a hand to the back of the stage. An older man dressed in a bright-pink jumpsuit stepped onto the stage, his shock of white hair and almost-translucent skin contrasted with his bright orange glasses.

“Oh my God,” Mai breathed, her face a picture of stunned awe. “It’s Erike Baretti.”

“A man who needs no introductions,” Michelle said with a laugh. “Erike Baretti!”

I applauded politely, having no clue who the hell this guy was and why my fake girlfriend might be in raptures over him.

“Welcome, designers,” he said, his voice soft but stern. “There will be two prizes handed out tomorrow—the first will be to the team our judges deem to have constructed the best outfit. And the second, will be revealed following the event.”

He bowed his head. “Teams, you have just eight hours to create your finished design.” A giant clock appeared on the wall behind him, the projection reading eight hours.

“Your time starts… now!”

I blanched as the crowd scattered and the other couples took off running.

“I’m sorry,” I said, staring at Mai who stared back at me. “Did he say, now ?”

She nodded, her mouth opening and closing.

“Fuck.” I glanced around. “Surely they’re joking. We’ve been up since four this morning. We need food and sleep. You’re dead on your feet and I’m?—”

“Run!” Celeste barked, throwing her clipboard at me. “Get going!”

“Jesus!” I narrowly avoided the flying plastic. “Fine! We’re going!” I grabbed Mai’s hand and tugged her along. “I think this is a hostile work environment.”

She snorted. “Welcome to fashion, darling.”