Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Surprisingly, after a quick shower and pushing Xerxes off my bed, where he tried to claim my pillow, I do sleep well.
CHAPTER 21
AUTUMN
Monday morning comes too soon, but the five of us, or the ‘Fab Five’, as Molly has dubbed us, are standing at attention in the workroom. We’re waiting impatiently for the entourage to come in and put us out of our misery by telling us what this week’s theme is going to be.
We’ve been throwing out ideas for the last thirty minutes. Everything from ‘Artwork of the Louvre’, which is reasonable and something we could all work with, to the less likely ideas, like ‘Old Lady Redux, part 3,178’ and ‘Space: The Final Frontier’.
Molly already called dibs on everything silver in the fabric room if the space suggestion comes true. But I’m praying it doesn’t. I find anything hyper-futuristic on a short path toward looking incredibly dated.
“What do you think the theme is going to be?” Yori asks nervously, rebooting our conversation again. “Hopefully, something we all feel comfortable with.”
Katarina snorts. “Like what? I don’t think there’s a theme in existence that we would all go” —she pumps her fists in the air, doing some version of a celebration dance— “woo-hoo!”
The door opens, and Jacqueline, apparently hearing just enough to cause her face to pucker, says, “I hope that is not the case, though if you’re finding the themes to be problematic, you are welcome to leave.”
Katarina drops her arms, chastised. “Of course not, Madame Corbin. We’re simply excited to discover this week’s theme.” She then holds her hand out, giving Jacqueline the floor.
I swear to God, Katarina is cool as a cucumber, no matter what. I would be choking on my tongue and stuttering out a nonsensical answer, but Katarina makes it seem as though Jacqueline was the one who interrupted her. I wonder if she’s got a custom leather bag to carry those balls of steel in. If not, she needs one. Maybe with a special pocket for her flask?
“Well,” Jacqueline sniffs. “In that case, let’s discuss this week’s theme. Shall we?” She pulls on the hem of her dusty mauve jacket, adjusting it over the matching wide-legged pants in a ‘how dare she?’ sort of move.
Jacqueline looks to Albert, and for the first time, I’m able to scope out the whole entourage. Albert stands to Jacqueline’s side as always, looking more former bouncer than bitch boy in his head-to-toe black, but he nods deferentially to her like the highness she thinks she is. Next to Albert is Tobias, who has his arms behind his back and is dressed impeccably, this time in a pair of what I suspect are vintage tweed trousers and a sharp rust-colored button-down. He’s added matching cordovan loafers and belt and a large ivory-face watch. If I could offer him a clap of fashion appreciation, I would do so in a heartbeat.
Next to Tobias is Simon. I try to keep my eyes moving, not staying locked on him for too long, but I can’t help it. We had a private breakfast in my apartment yesterday morning, using my bed as a picnic space and then for its intended purpose. And I don’t mean sleep. So it’s been less than twenty-four hours since I’ve seen him, but I feel the need to touch him, kiss him, greet him in some way other than standing here acting like I don’t know his deepest secrets and darkest desires.
He's wearing a three-piece black suit with a Wedgewood blue shirt that’s open at the neck. I also know that he has one extra button closed because there are fingernail scratches on his chest and a tiny bite mark on his shoulder again. I don’t have any bruises from yesterday, but let’s say I won’t be sitting down too much today.
I smile politely, making sure the friendliness extends down the entire line of the entourage.
“We have something exciting to present today. Along with the next show’s theme, I would like to extend an invitation to each of you.”
That gets all of our attention, and we basically lean forward like Jacqueline is holding out bacon and we’re hungry dogs.
“Our annual fundraising gala is this weekend, and you are invited, of course. It’s an opportunity for you to rub elbows with the people who are judging you, or in the future, possibly buying from you. Much like the after-show cocktail hours, but on a grander scale. This type of opportunity can make or break your career.”
She lets the weight of that sit on our already overloaded shoulders.
“Consider the gala a bit of multi-tasking. A designer always has to sell themselves while simultaneously creating.” She smirks. “But despite what you may have heard” —she looks directly at me, and I straighten even though I was already standing to my full height— “I am not a monster. My intention is to give you two weeks this time. Use the time wisely to create your own piece to wear for the gala, as well as your best collection yet for the next theme, which is . . .”