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I’m playing someone else. And then waving at Blake that way, like we’re still buddies but knowing we’re not. I’m about as authentic as Brogan Braxton. She’s pretending to be a designer, and I’m just plain pretending.

Chapter

5
    I’m still trying to shake that phony feeling when Brogan emerges onto the main platform. She’s wearing a black sundress, which I have to wonder about—I mean, who wears a
black
sundress? Especially on a sweltering day like today. She takes a quick little bow, I’m not sure why. Then she hurries back into the tented area as if she’s got some lastminute design issues to attend to, although I have my doubts. As she disappears, the emcee steps forward to the podium, welcoming everyone and gushing about how exciting the new BBB line is and how she can’t wait to get this party started. Suddenly the music gets louder and the show begins.
    I try to act interested, but besides the high-energy music, this show is nothing like the ones Paige and I are used to attending. Even the models, mostly people I recognize from
Malibu Beach,
seem substandard and unprofessional. There are a couple of missteps, and one girl stumbles over a wrinkle in the canvas sidewalk. She actually falls and loses a shoe.
    That’s bad enough, but it’s these BBB designs that really make me uncomfortable. Sure, I’m no fashion expert, butif someone told me these outfits had come from BigMart, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Not only do the materials look cheesy, but the colors seem garish, and I honestly wouldn’t want to wear any of them.
    I glance over at Paige, and although she’s wearing her polite smile, I can tell by her eyes that she is even less impressed than I am. “How did you handle this backstage with Brogan?” I whisper into her ear, smiling as if I’m saying something nice about the hot-pink bikini and orange sarong that are strutting on the other side of the pool.
    “It was so sad,” she says. “I actually had to question Brogan on some things. You know, for the sake of the show.”
    I glance around at the other tables. Some people seem mildly impressed, but maybe they’re mothers of the models and can’t help themselves. Many others look how I feel — somewhat bored, a bit confused, and fairly disappointed. Still, I can’t believe it when all the women at one table stand up, as if on cue, and leave. I’m not a BBB fan, but as much as I’d like to walk out, I would never do it. In fact, I think it’s inexcusably rude.
    As a girl in a striped red and green swimsuit struts by, I steal a glance to where Blake and the guys are sitting—and roasting—and feel a little stab of guilt. Of course, this is followed by relief as I realize that could’ve been us melting in the heat. Because even in the shade, it’s toasty. I pick up my program, using it to fan myself, as if my being warm somehow makes up for the table swap. I then open the program and pretend to be highly interested in the content and notice there’s an intermission. I hope it’s soon.
    A model wearing a purple and teal sundress does her final lap down the runway and the music slows down, suggesting it’stime for a break. Several of the guests stand up and move about, and I wonder if they are about to make a getaway. Paige stands too, waving to the camera guys to come over.
    “We might as well make use of this time,” she says as JJ fiddles with her microphone. “That way we can leave as soon as it’s over.”
    Alistair and JJ focus their cameras on her as she stands by the pool, critiquing what we’ve just seen. And, while she’s not brutal, she is truthful. Some of the other guests come closer to listen.
    “I do give Brogan Braxton credit for trying something like this,” Paige continues. “Starting a new line of clothing is not for the weak of heart. And certainly Brogan’s color choices suggest that she is a
brave
young woman. However, because Brogan
invited
me here to cover her design debut, and because