A Killer Look

By Rachel Kimberly Hastings

I’ve heard it said that fashion is pain, but for me, it could also be deadly.

As a finalist on Model Designer: Olympus Edition, the hottest fashion competition on TV, I was going to have to navigate that narrow catwalk very carefully.

I frowned at the dressform as I pinned folds on my final piece, an evening gown made of sage green silk with gold accents. It’s going to be fabulous, I told myself. Don’t worry about the show.

Easier said than done. This was my last chance to get out of my dead-end job at Sarpedon Hardware Supply. If I could win tonight, I’d never have to go back—

“Get your snake-nest head out of the clouds, Meddie Gordon,” came the snide voice of my least favorite judge, a tall man in an immaculately pressed crimson suit. Percy.

I set down my pincushion and gently brushed my writhing hair out of my face. One of the snakes hissed at my hand, but I hummed to soothe it. They always responded well to soft tones and slow motions. Deep breaths, stay focused, no venom.

“What have we here?” Percy circled my work in progress, clicking his tongue. Today’s cameraman lurked on the opposite end of the cluttered workroom, providing us relative privacy. “Classical influences. Isn’t that a bit pedestrian?”

I resisted the urge to shred his perfect red suit with my sewing shears. “There are gold threads in the silk,” I said, outwardly pleasant, though my snake-hair twitched, picking up on my anger.

“Tell me, how will your… luscious locks react to the stage lights?” Percy was practically leering at me now. “Your clever little headwraps are not allowed for the formal show.”

“I’ll figure something out.” My snakes weren’t a secret, but the only way I’d survived in the competition to this final round was by wrapping them in headdresses that matched my outfits. A cocoon, if you will, to protect my sensitive serpents from the harsh lights and music. If I hadn’t… well, I might not be breathing anymore.

“You had better,” he said. “Because Athena over there has outdone herself!”

I didn’t want to look. Athena had beaten me in the final rankings of each round, and it was common knowledge that of the four judges, Percy favored her. This time, she’d opted for a slim gray pantsuit with a feathery pattern of black crystals across the shoulders.

Percy put an unwelcome hand on my arm and whispered so that none of the mics could pick it up. “Between you and me, my vote is already decided.”

I saw red, and it wasn’t just his attire. My snakes hissed again. “Oh, that reminds me,” I said. “I would love your opinion on some notions for the gown. You seem like a genius when it comes to accessories and trims.”

He preened. “I suppose I am.”

My snakes quivered. Patience, my dears. “Here, I’ve laid out some options in the storage closet so the other contestants won’t see.”

Percy followed me into the closet. “How clandestine! But I doubt I can help your predicament.”

“We’ll see.” I closed the door behind us.

A crowd gathered in the runway auditorium for the final fashion extravaganza. Club-style music boomed from the loudspeakers.

I peeked between the curtains. My completed gown rustled under a dark velvet capelet. A strappy set of gold platform heels wrapped up to mid-calf. My stylist had painted dark kohl around my eyes to make them pop. And with Percy’s help, my snakes and I were ready.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” the host’s voice interrupted the music. “Welcome to the final runway show of Model Designer Season Three! Tonight, the top contestant will be selected as our grand prize winner and receive an exclusive contract for an original line with Olympus Luxury Clothiers!”

My hands were sweating. I discreetly wiped them on the curtain.

“Psst! Meddie!”

I glanced back to find Athena wringing her manicured hands, and I feigned a concerned frown. “Is something wrong?”

She bit her perfectly red lip. “I haven’t seen Percy anywhere, have you?”

“Not recently. Maybe he’s sitting this round out?” I couldn’t help a small smirk.

She huffed. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

Onstage, the host continued, “For this final round, each of the designers will model an evening formal look, evaluated on uniqueness and craftsmanship by tonight’s three judges.”

Finally, the moment of truth.

As I stepped onstage, the spotlights forced me to rapidly blink my fake lashes. Then I raised my chin, set my shoulders, and strutted down the catwalk to the EDM beat, showing off my snakes’ lithe bodies as the perfect complement to my slinky gown. Instead of a headwrap, I’d fashioned small muffling hoods for each of them out of a crimson fabric, contrasting with the greens and golds of the ensemble.

Step, step, stop. I went through the motions of the modeling routine. Pose left, remove the capelet, toss it casually over your shoulder… Now wink. I’d practiced that part in front of the mirror. My snakes bobbed at my shoulders in a mesmerizing dance of their own.

The audience went wild. I returned up the catwalk and took my place in the lineup to await the three judges’ decision. Percy’s usual seat on the end of the row remained empty.

“The overall winner voted by tonight’s panel of judges is… the unique and talented Meddie Gordon!”

The marvelous pronouncement still rang in my head as I sank into a chair back at my workstation. I pulled off my heels and sighed, then removed the hoods from my snakes. “You’ve done well, my pretties. No more hardware store for us.”

In the open storage closet across from me stood a lifelike male mannequin dressed all in red. If anyone were to look closely, they’d notice strips cut from the fabric of his jacket that exactly matched the pattern of the crimson hoods on my snakes that evening.

The things I do for fashion.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel Kimberly Hastings spent 10 years as a library assistant, and it shows. Unable to resist a good story idea in any format, she works with animation scripts by day and writes novels by night. When not writing, she’s usually out camping or hiking in the woods, imagining she’s on a fantastical quest of her own.

---

More Stories | Author Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter