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a hollow burning in my stomach that I couldn’t blame on the hummus. It was a good question. The money saving was right on track. The guy situation—not so much. “Look, Zander is just a friend, and he’s totally not interested in me like that.”
    “Well, maybe the David thing will work out. I know you have a weird history, but I was serious about him asking T-Shirt if you were with anyone.”
    I tried a light laugh, but it came out a little too harsh. “Come on. David? No. Never. I can’t stand him. He’s a pompous jerk, besides being a no-talent art hack. Real attractive qualities, Anne.”
    Anne’s mouth dropped, and I instantly knew what I would see if I followed her eyes behind me. I steeled myself before turning to the Art King himself. Except he didn’t look much like the Art King.
    David’s usual cocky smile was a little crooked. “Wow. I guess that probably means you don’t want to catch the new exhibit Saturday.” He laid the brochure from the Contemporary Art Museum down next to The Spikester sculpture. “At least not with me. But, umm, you should check it out. It’s a new collection of digital photography. I just, you know, thought you’d like it or something.” He shrugged and tried another smile that didn’t make it to his eyes before walking quickly away.
    The prickle of oncoming tears hit my eyes as my cheeks burned.
    “Whoa. Brutal,” Anne said.
    I grabbed my plate and stalked to the trash can. I shook it three times, but the stupid hummus was like glue. “I didn’t mean—I mean, if I’d known he was there I would have never—”
    “I know,” Anne said quietly. “I never would have pegged him as the sensitive type. But wowza—he really looked hurt, didn’t he?”
    “Yes, Anne. I caught that.” I finally just threw the whole stupid plate in the trash. I returned to the table and slammed my chair back in, then grabbed my bag. “I gotta go.”

Chapter Five

    I looked up after hearing Zander’s sigh. He patiently replaced the sash I had let slip for the second time within two minutes. He took a step back and gave a little nod. He pulled one of the pins held between his pursed lips and fastened the sash an inch higher. “Mwaming mwong?”
    “Huh?”
    He pulled the last two pins from his mouth. “Something wrong?”
    “Ha. Something? Everything. Everything wrong.”
    “Bad day?”
    “Try bad week. Bad month. Bad year.”
    “Hmm. Drama queen is usually more
my
style,” he said.
    I smiled. “Stop. I don’t want cheering up. I’m enjoying my misery.”
    “Okay, then. As you were.”
    I flounced onto his stool, forgetting I was wearing hisproject for the week. I jumped back up at his moan and tried to recrimp the poof of petticoats under the back half of the short skirt.
    “Are you sure a bustle is the right look for my body type? I mean, I have a pretty good bustle going on,
au naturel
.”
    “I’m going to forgive you for insulting my creation, Quigley, since you are so obviously distraught. But if you will just join me at the mirror, I would at least like to show you how dead wrong you are.”
    I motioned over to Anne, who was standing dead still as The Spikester knelt at her feet and inched a scissors upward for a dramatic jagged slit in the otherwise pristinely sleek white gown. “Now Anne, on the other hand, she could maybe do with a bustle—”
    Ms. Parisi hovered near the pair, pretending to inspect the bodice of a dress at a neighboring table.
    “Anne couldn’t pull off this dress.” Zander lowered his voice for Ms. Parisi’s benefit. “Not even with The Spikester’s help.”
    My snort of laughter made several other designers look up from their sketch pads.
    “Oops, sorry. That probably broke the whole leave-me-to-my-misery mood,” he said.
    “It’s not funny! I did a really jerky thing the other day and I haven’t been able to undo it.”
    Zander grabbed my hips with a little frown and turned me slowly in front of the mirror. “I have a hard