Jemima is over at her station sketching something on her design pad, and I decide to approach her.
“Hey, Jem?” I call out. She looks up.
“What’s up?”
“Would you mind trying on the dress I made yesterday?”
Her face lights up.
“I’d love to! Just give me a minute.” She finishes up her sketch before coming over to grab the sample from me before disappearing down the hall to the bathroom. I’m a little nervous. What if she totally hates it? The dress looked fine on a mannequin, but the true test is putting it on a human body.
Once again, I’m struck at how much it sucks that our samples are for a size zero body. If we made clothes for women like me, I could try the dress on myself instead of asking someone else to do it. Then I wouldn’t have this extreme anxiety, and we could get on with our days.
I glance at the door. It’s only been a couple of minutes, but I wish Jemima would hurry up and get back in here. Maybe the dress ripped because I’m bad at sewing. Or maybe she can’t get it on because I screwed up while crafting the garment.
You’re being ridiculous, I think. The dress was fine when you put it on the mannequin.
After a few deep breaths, I’m calm, and Jemima returns. She grins.
“Sorry about the wait. I ran into Chase from accounting and he would not stop talking to me about how important the resort line is. Like, buddy, I’ve worked here for years. I know it’s important.”
I laugh, covering my anxiety.
“No worries. Thanks for putting the dress on. It looks so good on you!”
She smiles.
“It does, doesn’t it? I love the high-low skirt because it’s so now. The neckline I wasn’t sure about, but even with my not-so-ample chest, it looks great.”
“Thanks,” I say, walking in a circle around Jem, studying my work. The outfit does look good, and the material hangs beautifully. Then, I reach forward. “I envisioned the straps lower on the arms though. Can I adjust?”
“Sure thing.”
I fix the straps and walk around Jemima again, who’s striking a few different poses for me. It’s pretty amusing to watch her play top model, but it’s fine. The seams are holding, and I decide the two sides are the best places to sew the skirt. I wouldn’t be able to hide them in both the front and back, so it makes sense.
“Okay, I think I’m good. Thank you so much, Jem. You’re an amazing fit model.”
She grins.
“I’m always here for you, girlfriend. I think Marissa would be crazy to say no to this one, but if she does, the sample is mine. I hope you know that.”
I stick my tongue out at her and laugh.
“The sample is yours even if she says yes. I’d never make you buy one of my designs. That doesn’t make any sense. We’re co-workers.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You know I already buy every single one of your samples, Addy.”
I blush.
“Thanks, Jemima. I appreciate it.”
With that, Jemima goes off to change and I finish up my pattern. I’ll bring it to show the team later today, and see what feedback they have. After all, this is a team effort. Sure, Marissa’s the creative director but really, all of us work together to put together three collections a year. There’s no one individual who does everything.
Suddenly, Marcus’s assistant materializes out of nowhere.
“Hey everyone, can you come to the conference room please? We’re having a firm-wide meeting. Thanks.”
Then she turns on her heel and leaves before any of us can ask questions. We have firm-wide meetings maybe once a month, but we usually get an itinerary in advance. This one is out of the blue, which makes me nervous. What could the meeting be about? I have no idea, but I have a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that everything is about to change.3Marcus* * *Our employees file into the conference room. We have maybe twenty people on staff, which is about right for a high-end atelier. Most of the people who work for House of Steele are designers, although of course, we also have a cohort of administrative staff including marketing, accounting, and HR. We’re a real business, after all.
Today, I cringe a bit as everyone makes their way into the conference room. I would have been happy telling our top execs, and then letting the news trickle down from there, but of course, Marissa loves her dramatics. She wants the entire company here to hear her news.
Smiling maliciously, my wife moves to the front of the room as everyone takes their seats around the big table. My wife has always been beautiful and resembles Snow White today more than ever. She’s got ivory skin, blood-red lips, and raven black hair. Today, it’s swept up in a chignon, making her look regal and elegant. Unfortunately, it also makes her look severe and somewhat heartless.