It seemed too small to me, but Clinton and Stacy assured me that it would produce the high-quality images they needed for the show. I did my best to remember the rules they had given me, the emphasis on color, pattern, texture, and shine.I also remembered Stacy's promise. Maura had brought me a stunning selection of bras and given me hints on what to look for. During my shopping expedition, I made sure to pick out a few that I would enjoy having Stacy remove that evening. But Clinton refused to take the bait. Try as she might, Stacy was unable to get him to leave. We shared looks of despair, and Stacy mouthed the word "tomorrow" to me.Clinton and Stacy came with me the following day, explaining what I had done correctly and where I had gone wrong. This time Stacy was successful in splitting the team up; Clinton was sent in search of work outfits while Stacy would help with the casual and nighttime looks. There was little we could do with the camerawoman looking on, although Stacy did. He felt like he was going to throw up. She went to practice. She ignored him completely, not even a glance in his direction. She hates me, he thought, she fucking hates me.He was sitting with a couple of his friends, Terry and Michael, on the grass at one point. Jen had to go talk to the coach about something. She had no choice but to walk by him. She's coming this way, he thought in a panic. Suddenly his hands had a mind of their own, pulling grass out by the handfuls. His heart raced. Of course his friends had pointed her out to him when she showed up. They'd said, "God, Matt, aren't you going to go talk to her?" Now he prayed they would keep their mouths shut.Terry saw her coming their way first, and started poking Matt and laughing. She stared straight ahead and ignored them."Aren't you going to talk to Matt?" asked Michael loudly. She ignored him, she was already talking to the coach, but he knew she must have heard."Shut up!" he told him. "Leave her alone."He glanced at her..
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