Chapter 117 Audrey
The following Monday morning dawned bright and full of promise. The Friday before, my "Life Cycle' dress had been well received by Leo and the other designers despite the previous incident-much to Linda's chagrin.
Now, Leo led us down the bustling hallway, down a set of stairs, and into a large utility elevator that would carry us to the basement of the building.
"For your third project," Leo explained in the tense silence of the elevator, "you're going to be participating in a competition against each other"
Linda, who had been leaning against the wall and examining her nails with a bored expression on her face, suddenly glanced up. "A competition?" she cooed, looking over at me. "Audrey and I do love a little friendly competition, don't we!"
Great, I thought, my heart sinking. Another opportunity for her to make my life difficult. Still, I resisted the urge to grimace at her and turned to Leo. "What are the stakes?"
"You'll each need to design four pieces for a small clothing collection," Leo explained as the elevator doors slid open, revealing a large warehouse dotted with flickering fluorescent lights. "You have two weeks to complete this project, and you're encouraged to use anything you need from our textile warehouse."
Linda and I exchanged glances as we followed Leo into the cavernous warehouse. Our shoes clicked on the cement floors, echoing in the vast space. The air smelled like a combination of fabric and equipment.
The winner will receive bragging rights, of course, Leo continued as he led us through the racks, "but also an all-expenses paid weekend trip to Paris Fashion Week in the fall."
My jaw dropped at that. Even Linda's eyes widened into saucers.
"Paris Fashion Week?" we both blurted out in unison.
Leo grinned. "Brooks Designs has been invited to one of the shows this year," he explained, stopping and placing his hands on his hips. "So, whichever one of you can impress us with your small collection will be joining us. Think you two can handle that?"
I felt like I was about to pass out. Going to Paris Fashion Week. It was like a dream come true. But before I could speak, Linda was stepping forward, clapping one perfectly-manicured onto Leo's shoulder. "I can't wait to go with you," she beamed. It took all my effort not to roll my eyes.
Leo chuckled and shook his head. "You two have an hour down here to pick out the fabric you'll need," he said, stepping aside. "Good luck
cooed, just low enough so Leo couldn't bear. "You'll need it." I gritted my teeth but said nothing, determined not to let her get to me
was permanently slack as I made my way through the huge racks of fabric-some of which were so high up you'd need special equipment to get them down-and
the last. Crates upon crates of sewing notions and supplies lined the walls. Warehouse employees buzzed past on forklifts, at one point causing me to yelp and jump out of the way just as I turned a corner and was nearly steamrolled by
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Chapter 117
it?" Leo said, coming up behind me, his presence
looking around. "I don't see any fabrics with the Black Textiles company logo. Weren't they one of Brooks
his brow furrowing slightly. Ah, yes. Interesting story, actually; Mr. Brooks suddenly had all of the Black Textile fabrics removed from the warehouse The partnership was ended
the realization
had done to me all those weeks ago? I couldn't think of another reason why he would
warmth at
wanted to believe that it wasn't because of
heart, the part of me that still felt his fingers under my chin while the rain pattered on the roof over our
the project harder than I had ever
The hours seemed to slip away as I sketched, cut, and sewed, my mind laser-focused on the task at hand. And each night, as I made my way out to the bus stop, I couldn't
with him, but knowing he was there while I worked late into the night gave me a strange sense of security. It was as if his presence, even from a distance, provided me with a bit of comfort I didn't know
my neck up at the glowing office far overhead. The soft, warm light stood out against the dark, empty building, a beacon of sorts. I wondered what
of ritual for me, checking to
my things, the sound of footsteps broke the silence in the quiet design department. I looked up to see Linda sauntering over to my desk, a smug expression plastered on her face. I felt my stomach clench
keys to her expensive sports car jingling in her hand as she yanked one of her desk drawers open. "Don't you have a life outside
could ask you the same thing, Linda. What are you still doing here?" She pulled a leather bound folder out of
hard to succeed. I get to leave my
past, keys still jingling in her hand. Just as she reached the door, I
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