The show was scheduled to run the following evening, which meant no time for sightseeing. She, Maxine and Troy were whisked to the François Hotel, and given their rooms. That evening, in the dressing room, Jillian carefully slipped into the emerald-colored, floor length gown provided by Mecca’s Wardrobe Department. As she entered the main salon beside the bubbling pink champagne fountain, she recognized many notables of the fashion world. She’d seen their faces in fashion magazines and their names on the labels of clothes she’d admired, but couldn’t afford. She clamped her mouth shut to keep from gaping as she noticed Christov Klem speaking to Tim Hillgrove. Other faces also seemed familiar from their various fashion and cosmetics ads. Calm down. They were just as human as the next person. To prove it, one of them licked his chops as he stared at the bountiful blessings of Ms. 44D, who stood across from him. “If I’d only known of your great magnitude, I would have offered to measure you myself,”
