Well, I sent the drawings off by FedEx that evening and sat down
to listen to the radio and relax. I zoned out, and obviously fell
asleep in my clothes, because when I woke up, Whitney was zonked out on
her bed, snoring softly.
The reply came three days later in the form of a brief phone
call from one of the Jive executives.
“Hello, may I please speak with Miss. Anderson,”
a female voice asked politely.
“Speaking.”
“Ah, Miss. Anderson, I’m pleased to inform you that Jive
records liked your designs for the Backstreet Boys’ costumes the
best, although we still have a little to work out, they’re definitely
the ones we want,” she said excitedly. “My name is Melanie and I
will be working with you in the final creation of the outfits.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said frantically motioning to
Whitney that they liked my designs.
“We’ll need you to be down here next week to begin the
fittings and to see how they can dance in your designs.”
I hadn’t thought about that… They were going to have to
dance in what I drew. Man, I’d have to change a few things…. Oh
well, all that mattered was, they actually liked the designs.
After packing my old sewing machine, my sketchbook,
some pencils, and my favorite outfits I was ready to leave.
“Bobbi,” Whitney said reprovingly, “We’re not leaving
for another two days. Why’re you excited? You do have to go see AJ
when you’re there you know.”
“Yes, but this is my first big break. Can you believe
it? I mean me, Bobbi, with a contract to design outfits for world
famous celebrities!!” I said, getting excited again, “And I can deal with
AJ, I’ll just threaten him with wearing a skirt or something like
that.”
Whitney just chuckled and let me go off into dreamland yet
again. She had recently been struck with inspiration for a song, so
most of her time was spent strumming her guitar grumbling things like
‘not that note’ and ‘damn it’ under her breath. Her new song didn’t
have words yet, just a soft, almost sad melody.
I kept suggesting she let me write the words, but
she kept insisting that if she very let me write lyrics to one of
her songs, she’d kill both of us, with one wave of her magical little
hand.
Well, the time flew by; there was only an hour till we
had to leave for the airport, when there was a knock on our door.
“Who is it?” Whitney called.
“Messenger from the Society,” a no-nonsense voice answered
quickly.
“Come in,” Whitney said hurriedly, ushering the man in. He
was tall with a square face, dark hair and equally dark eyes.
“Ma’am,” he said looking at Whitney intently,
“I’m here to inform you that we have an emergency meeting of all witches
and warlocks in the southern United States on February 2nd in
Orlando, Florida. And you,” he said looking at me piercingly,
“are also invited, as we need all those involved with our world in
the light on this subject.”
“Alright. We’ll be there,” Whitney said quietly as the
man prepared to leave. She was obviously worried about the thing
that would cause an emergency meeting of all the witches, warlocks,
vampires and werewolves in the US. I must say, the thought
bothered me for a while. That is, until I realized we had twenty
minutes to get to the airport.
Chapter 40
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