“It’s too bad you turned down the opportunity for the Vogue editorial,” Maxwell adds. “I was slated to shoot that project, and I was really hoping it would work out. I think we could have made something really amazing together.” He sighs wistfully. “I had grand plans for a Wes Anderson–inspired photo spread. You were going to be in this fab all-silk-and-leather lineup and holding a trained falcon in each shot. I have a great falcon guy.”

Wait, what? Now it’s my turn to furrow my brow in confusion. I never turned down a Vogue editorial. I never even got an offer like that. Unless… I flash back to when I overheard the execs talking about an opportunity with Vogue. Did DB turn it down for me without even asking me about it? I think back to what Mr. Noh said when I asked him about it: “There’s no opportunity for the group with Vogue.” Which, looking back, kind of sounds like a technicality. Because technically, Vogue didn’t want the whole group. They just wanted me.

Why didn’t Mr. Noh tell me about the opportunity? And why did he basically lie to my face when I asked about it? I can feel myself getting worked up—confusion, disappointment, and anger fighting for space in my brain—but before I have time to fully process it all, I spot a familiar face out of the corner of my eye. The sparring in my brain stops on a dime. Oh my god. Is that—? Holy shit. It is.

“Is that Carly Mattsson over there?” I blurt out. I need to make sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.

Maxwell gives me an amused look. “It is. Are you a fan?”

“Fan” is an understatement. I adore Carly Mattsson—a pop star turned fashion icon and former member of B*Dazzled, my favorite American girl group from my childhood. Carly is a total legend. Who could forget that iconic moment from the VMAs when she cut her hair three separate times for each of her three outfit changes? She went from waist-length hair to a bob to a pixie cut in a single night. And who could forget her peacock-feather look at the Met Gala?

“I had a B*Dazzled concert tee that I wore to sleep every night for years,” I confess to Maxwell.

“Didn’t we all,” he says fondly.

After B*Dazzled disbanded, Carly went on to design her own fashion line and marry a gorgeous Swedish Olympic skier, Oliver Mattsson. I can’t believe she’s here. In the same room as me. Breathing the same air, dressed in the most chic green jumpsuit, hair swept in an elegant low ponytail and ears adorned with Cartier panther earrings.

“She’s even more gorgeous in person,” I say in awe. “I never thought I’d be this close to her. Should I introduce myself? Is that weird?”