After being notified via email about a string of reviews from a very generous reader who offered insight on several of my chapters, thank you so much to Sarablaxklist, I have decided not to quit on this story bc ressler and keen are still too adorable for me to let my fictional versions of them die out. Id really appreciate some love from more of my readers, but as common vernacular, what the cool dawgs say, "You do you" which can have several connotations, but I think what they mean to say is that you are in charge of your actions, not you do yourself. XXOO just me ranting. I've decided not to give up

RESSLER

"A fashion show? We have to go to a fashion show? Why are you messing with us Reddington?" I question him.

"I'm not messing with you... Donald. There's a blacklister I need taken down. His name is Jake Clarke. He's a criminal in the line of illegal poaching. He's got lots of money. He's got lots of followers. He's got lots of resources. He's been competing with me over client's money for a long time now. He uses everyday people and convinces them to join him as illegal poachers. He's the guy behind the massacre of an entire village a few years back," he explains. I think I know which one he's talking about.

"You mean the one in Kenya where an entire village was killed after standing up to a gang of poachers killing the local wildlife and their personal animals?" I ask.

"Exactly," he answers.

"So what are we going to do at this fashion show?" Liz asks.

"Well it's actually a charity fashion show. One of the designers works for Clarke. His name is Jude. Find him and you may learn something about Clarke." He says. Wow, a decent lead to start out with for once. That's a surprise. He reaches into his pocket. He pulls put two tickets.

"You'll be attending the fire and ice charity fashion show in Paris starting with brunch at 11:00 tomorrow. Scan the ticket for all of your information. It's 2:07 right now. Paris is five hours ahead. You should leave in an hour or so. I've arranged to have my jet on the air strip at 3:30." He stands up, hands Liz the tickets and waves goodbye as he walks out.

"We should go tell the rest of the task force. We've got some time," Liz suggests.

"Good idea," I reply. We get up and walk out the door. We walk into the warehouse. We pass security and go down the elevator to the Post Office. The team is already at work with security reports.

"We've got a blacklister. Jake Clarke. He's high up in the illegal poaching industry and takes American citizens to help him do his work. Reddington has told us that someone who works for him is a designer if we can find him, we'll get some information about Clarke. Aram, can you scan the tickets?" Liz asks. She hands Aram the tickets. Everyone has gathered around. He used the scanner and it pops up in the system.

"The fashion show events start at 11:30 tomorrow. The tickets are for a Samantha Cal and a plus one." He clicks on the name.

"It's an alias. Undercover. It says here that this fashion show is an upscale event. Who's the designer?" He asks.

"This man named Jude." I answer. He types something in.

"Adorer le couture is his fashion line." Aram answers.

"That means to love the couture in French," Liz answers. She's basically fluent in French.

"We already have transportation there. Are we clear to proceed?" I ask. We get approval from all of the team members. Liz and I thank everyone and go back up the elevator. Once we're in the car, Liz phone buzzes.

"No need to worry about dressing your best. The people hosting the show have got that handled," she reads out loud. Oh boy. That's the last thing I need to be worrying about.

We get out of the car and walk across the air strip onto the plane. The flight is uneventful. We touch down in Paris at 5:24 AM local time. We land at a private air strip. Once outside of the plane, someone is waving at us. Probably a welcome agent for the fashion show. Do people really pay this much money just to be kiss assed? The young man greets us with an unnatural amount of friendly.

"Hello. You must be Miss Samantha Cal and your date Mr. Joey Katherine. Welcome to Paris. I'm Gregory and I'm here to make sure that your stay in Paris isn't anything less than perfect." He says perkily. Kiss ass.

He leads us to a limousine. He opens the door for us and gets in himself. Can't we just have some peace and quiet? Once the car starts moving, he starts talking. Right on cue.

"So what do you want to do first? Meet your small group for this weekend's events? Or go to your fashion consult? You could also go to your spa treatments, or have breakfast, or do more than one at once. It's all up to you." He says. Wow. We must be VIP people.

"Can we think about it for a minute please?" I ask.

"Sure whatever you want," he answers. I look at Liz and start a group text message.

ARE WE PRETENDING TO RELATIVES OF THE KING AND QUEEN OF ENGLAND OR SOMETHING? I text Liz and Reddington.

He responds immediately. SAM IS THE DAUGHTER OF A FOREIGN OIL INVESTOR AND A BUSINESS TYCOON. YOU GO ON MISSION TRIPS TO THIRD WORLD COUNTRIES AND BUILD SCHOOLS FOR OEPHANS AND UNDERPRIVILEGED KIDS IF ANYONE ASKS. He responds.

Wow, I'm an awesome person. LIZ PLAY ALONG WITH THIS. WE CAN MAKE THIS WORK. I text. She nods to me. I look up from my phone.

"Oh just a problem with the school I helped build in Haiti last week," I explain.

"Wow," he says genuinely.

"We'd like to start with the fashion and wardrobe consults. Maybe take a breakfast break after a while." Liz says. He nods.

"I'll inform them of your wishes," he says. He gets on his phone and presses speed dial. I go back on mine.

SMART DECISION GOOD THINKING. DRESS THE PART, BE THE PART. We both look up from our phones before he gets off of his.

"You're private consultants are in your suite." He answers.

"Thanks." Liz answers. Private consultation on my hair and clothes? Doesn't sound like it'll be too bad. The city is getting denser. It's so pretty. I can't believe that we're here. I'd have to say, for a mission to stop a poacher, this isn't bad. We pull into the most breathtaking hotel I've ever seen. The driver opens the door.

"Ladies first," I say to Liz. She gets out of the car. I follow her. He leads us to a fancy elevator. There's an operator in the elevator.

"Which floor?" The operator asks.

"The beautiful people are staying on the penthouse level," Gregory answers. I look at Liz. We both smile. The elevator shoots upwards. It's a clear glass elevator. Once above the ground level, there's a panoramic view of the city. I could stay in this all day. I look at Liz. She's breathtaken too. We exit the elevator. Gregory leads us to a double door suite. He hands us the keys and we go in.

The room is hardly a room. The main room is bigger than my entire apartment. It's so beautiful. The stylists hear that we're here and come into the main room through two doors across the room from each other. They both come towards us.

They hold out their hands to shake ours. My stylist is a petit French woman. "I'm Lea. I'll be your stylist for the weekend Mr. Katherine." I shake her hand.

"Oh you can call me Joey. Liz's stylist is a tall very fashion forward man. I think he said his name was Peter. Lea leads me into my room, which is also breathtaking.

"There's a team of stylists in the bathroom suite." She says. She opens the door to a bathroom that must be more than three hundred square feet. Holy crap.

"This is Kimi, Jean Paul and Carla." She says. I say hello to all of them. They immediately get to work. They take my measurements, and lead me to a salon hair washer station set up. I sit down. Kimi, the hair stylist goes to town washing my hair. They use conditioner. I don't use conditioner. After the hair washing is done, Kimi and Jean Paul lead me to a salon chair. I sit down. They put a smock on me.

"What are you thinking about his hair Jean?" Kimi asks.

"Get rid of all the awkward shags and fly away hairs. This shaggy look is a sign of stress. He can't be stressed out for a fun weekend. Two words: gel back." He says.

"What about a nice side part too?" She asks.

"That would be good too," he says as he walks over to the rest of the stylist team who are rolling in two racks of clothes. I'm nervous to see what she does to me. I close my eyes ans pretend that in this moment in time I was in a prison cell somewhere shooting my way out. I'm obviously not going to be doing that any time soon. I make myself bust listening to music while she cuts my hair. I pay attention when I feel the chair spin around. She takes the smock off of me and I take a look in the full length mirror. Wow, I don't look bad. I should really go for haircuts more often.

"Do you like it?" She asks me.

"It's really good looking, I have to admit. Thanks," I say. She looks excited.

"Lea, Mr. Katherine likes his haircut," she hollers. Lea comes running over to us. She smiles huge.

"He looks amazing. Who's idea was the side part?" She asks. Kimi slightly raises her hand. Lea pulls her into a bear hug.

"Your girlfriend will be all over you with this hair," she says. Cool. I'll be sure to mention it to my nonexistent girlfriend. Though the thought of impressing Liz doesn't sound all that bad. Maybe I should be this Mr. Katherine guy more often.

"But oy, those eyebrows need work," Carla says. I point and wave around my eyebrows.

"Off limits.

"Pffttt, that won't stop us. You'll thank me later," she says. She ushers me to a chair. She rolls a cart with something that looks like a fondu pot. I don't think that's what it is though. She grabs a strip and dips it into the pot. It's green. Oh shit. This is wax.

"Is there any other way?" I ask in a panicked voice. All she does is laugh. She puts the hot wax on my face and leaves it there. It takes me by total surprise. I scream very loudly. She laughs again. She pulls out another strip.

"Another one?" I ask.

"You're in for a long session." She says. I'm not going to scream this time. There's ripping, and I find that a scream probably just as loud as the previous one has escaped my lips. She goes through the process again. I yelp again.

The door opens as she goes In for another strip. I look to see who it is. Shit, it's Liz. "What's all the racket about?" She hollers.

"See for yourself," Lea says. A giant grin starts to form on her face when she sees what's happening.

"Don't say a word," I say jut before yelping after she does it again.

"I don't think I even need to," she says through her laughing.

"Do you enjoy watching my pain and suffering?" I ask.

"No, it's just extremely amusing." She says. She starts to walk out. Before she leaves she says, "have fun!" Not likely at the moment. I didn't get a chance to get a good look at her. I wonder what they've done with her so far.

After what seemed like a never ending torture session is finally over and the remainder of my eyebrows and my forehead is almost back to normal color, someone calls in for me that breakfast is ready. I leap out of the chair of misery and suffering and practically run out the door.

Liz is already digging into a meal that looks like it was made in heaven. I dot down and chow down. Once we've both gotten over the initial shock of how food this food tastes, we start talking. "So It looked like you were having a ton of fun in there," she says. I look up from my foot. Her forehead is about the same shade of red as mine.

"How come I didn't hear you screaming?" I ask. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I'm such an idiot for asking that.

"Maybe you're more of a wimp than me," she says with a confident smile. I can't think of a comeback thy would make sense for me to say in this situation.

WEEKEND FUNCTIONS

Friday Wake up- 11:00 morning activities. 11:30 Garden Lunch: dressy daytime 1:00 Small group meet and greet and project meetings 2:30 Afternoon activities: 7:30 dinner prep 8:30 cocktail mixer and dinner: cocktail

Saturday Wake up- 8:30Morning activity 9:00 breakfast dressy casual daytime 10:00 Small group project meetings 11:15 parade prep 12:00 parade and lunch ceremony wear 2:30 Afternoon activities: dressy casual daytime 5:30dinner and show prep 7:00 dinner, show and project presentations: black tie 11:00 after show party

Sunday 11:00 Brunch dressy casual daytime 12:00 Afternoon activities 3:30 evening prep 4:15 evening activity cocktail 6:00 dinner and goodbyes

Holy crap am I going to be tired by the end of this mission. What even are these dressy, casual, dressy casual, cocktail, black tie? Sounds like military drills. "English please?" I ask.

I'm so confused right now. This may be a whole lot harder than breaking out of a terrorist prison. "We'll take this one baby step at a time," Lea says. It takes over an hour, but I have my basic wardrobe picked out. A lot of these things are just too fancy for me. I put on my Garden Lunch outfit, whatever that is.