"Do you know Clara too?" Brad asked.

Catherine shook her head, "No, not personally, but I love her work. I've been seeing her in Vogue since I was fourteen, and she has completely revolutionized modeling. Her look is so distinctive—so many models have tried to copy her, but none of them even come close. And, of course, her acting is so impressive too. I loved her in her last movie."

​​

Leydon sighed, "I'm sure she'll be thrilled to know she has another fan."

"Don't like that," Brad said. "I'm sure she'd be charmed to know that the new Mrs. Blair admires her work."

"Will she really be here tonight?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah," Brad said. "She's walking for Chanel, I think."

"That's right," Catherine said, thinking of an article she'd seen in the last Vogue. "She just became the face of Chanel."

She noticed that Brad and Leydon were both staring at her with slightly dazed expressions. She turned and saw Sean glaring at his two friends.

"Your eyes are on my wife," he said coolly.

The men quickly looked away, and Catherine turned back to watch the other guests come in. She was amazed by their suits, gowns, and accessories and wished she could draw their clothes to remember them later.

"If you want, we can go backstage and talk to Clara after the show," Sean said.

"Hmm?" Catherine asked. "No, that's alright. Watching her on the catwalk is enough."

"Interesting," Sean said.

"What is?" she asked.

"I didn't realize you had a celebrity idol," he said.

"Oh, she's not the only one," she laughed. "But she's definitely one of my favorites."

"Who else?" he asked.

"Shh," Brad hissed. "The show is about to start."

The lights went even darker, plunging the dim room into total blackness. One by one beam of powerful white light flickered to the light above the runway. A low, steady beat blasted from the speakers around them, and steam hissed into the air. She held her breath and stared at the end of the runway, waiting for the first model to appear. She gasped as the first model appeared.

Slowly, the models began to strut down the runway. The colors and shapes and fabric of their gowns made her head spin, and the steady, thumping music matched the pulse of her heart. She leaned forward in her chair and gasped at each new piece.

Suddenly the music stopped, and the lights went black. She froze, wondering if something had gone wrong, and suddenly the room was flooded in white. She blinked at the blinding light and lifted her head to stare at the catwalk. Clara Fields stood alone in the middle of the runway, and all the light in the room seemed to come from her. Clara wore a short white dress and spun slowly without seeming to move at all.

The dress itself was surprisingly simple but elegant—it looked inspired by a Roman toga. A crown of twisted metal gleamed on her head, and her face was made up of dark, dramatic makeup. She wore sandals and had bands of the metal wrapped around her pale arms and long, elegant legs. She looked like a warrior goddess. Cameras flashed, and the spectators screamed her name.

"Go, Clara," shouted Brad.

For a moment, Clara seemed to lose focus. Her eyes flickered over to them, and her face faltered. Almost instantly, the strange expression was gone, and she wore the same pouting but innocent expression that had made her famous.

"She really is a goddess," Catherine breathed.

Too soon, Clara walked off the stage, the music stopped, and the show ended. Catherine looked down at her arms and found they were coated in goosebumps.

"So," Sean asked her, a sly smile on his face. "How did you like your first fashion show?"

"I've never seen anything like it," she said. "It was breathtaking. The music and the clothing—it was more than fashion—it was art."

Sean smiled, "You'll have your pieces up there in a few years, I'm sure."

"I wish," she said.

"You're talented," he said. "And I've seen your sketches—you're good, Honey. Really good."

She shook her head, "Anyway, what did you think?"

"Sean wasn't watching the show," Brad interrupted with a laugh.

"What?" she asked.

"He was too busy staring at you," Brad chuckled.

Sean leveled an icy glare at his friend, and Brad fell quiet. An awkward silence descended over them all.

"Let's go backstage," Brad suggested.

"I'd rather not," Leydon said.

"Oh, come on, man," Brad scolded. "She's your sister."

Catherine watched the two men curiously. It was clear that Clara and Leydon didn't like each other, but she wondered why. As far as she knew, Leydon seemed like a nice person—he was certainly more polite than Brad, and Clara had enjoyed a surprisingly clean career. She'd never been involved in any scandals and was rarely captured by paparazzi.

"What's the problem with Leydon and Clara?" she whispered to Sean.

"Curiosity killed the cat," he whispered back.

"What does Leydon's family do?" she asked Sean.

"They own a production studio," Sean replied. "Film and television."

"That makes sense," she whispered back. "It would be easy for Clara to have a career and maintain her privacy if her family is in the business."

"Hmm," Sean said.

"What are you two whispering about?" Brad asked.

"Nothing," Catherine said smoothly. "I was just saying that if I ever become a designer, I'd be lucky to work with Clara."

"Well, are we going backstage or what?" Brad asked.

"Alright," Catherine agreed.

"If it's the same to you guys, I'll stay here," Leydon said.

"Whatever," Brad said.

"Don't be heartless," Sean said.

Leydon glared at them in silence, and they stood and pushed their way through the crowds to the backstage entrance. Brad greeted the security guard by the first name, and the man immediately let them through.

Backstage everything was chaos. Half-naked models ran back and forth, chased by design assistants and makeup and hair artists. Racks of clothing and accessories lined the room, and the smell of mixed perfumes and hairspray was almost unbearable.

Clara sat at a makeup station at the back of the room. She had already changed back into black jeans and a white tank top, and she removed her makeup with calm, methodical strokes. She seemed completely unbothered by the chaos around her.

"Clara," Brad shouted.

Clara turned, and her face seemed to glow, "Brad!"

"You did great out there," he said.

"Thanks," she smiled. "The crown was so heavy, I thought my neck might snap."

"Well, you made it look easy," Catherine said shyly.

"Oh right," Brad said. "Clara, I want to introduce you to Catherine."

"It's really nice to meet you," Catherine said. "I've been a huge fan ever since I first saw you in Vogue when I was fourteen."

"Oh, thanks," Clara said. "It's always nice to meet a fan."

Brad cleared his throat, "She's Catherine Blair, you know, Sean's wife."

A strange expression crossed Clara's face, and Catherine found herself strangely uncomfortable.

"Just Catherine is fine, though," she said, hoping to break the silence.