I pushed open the door and was immediately greeted by a chorus of “hello” and “hi” from my employees. I forced a small smile as I made my way upstairs to my office.
While I could work in a noisy environment, I preferred the solitude. Interrupting me puts you at the front line of a meltdown, and it’s never pretty.
I stepped inside and took in the mess. Sketches and pencils covered the table, a pair of scissors peeked out from beneath a pile of papers, and my tape measure laid in a heap on the floor.
It would have been cleaned yesterday if I hadn’t told everyone to stay out of my office or risk getting fired. Now, I had to do it myself.
“Adira.” A small voice was followed by a soft knock.
My assistant, Marissa, stood at the door. I gave her a brief nod, and she stepped inside. Her dark hair was tied in a bun at the top of her head. She wore skinny jeans, a white button-up shirt, and a brown blazer. In her hands, she held a brown manila envelope.
Marissa started working for me three years ago. The moment she walked into my office for the interview, I knew she was the one.
“This came for you half an hour ago.” She handed me the file. “Mr. Winston called to remind you that the fashion exhibition is in three months, and he needs your sketches before then to decide if he’ll go ahead with the sponsorship.”
“Tell Mr. Winston I’ll have the sketches to him by the end of next week. And tell the designers that if I don’t have something amazing on my desk in the next forty-eight hours, they’re all fired.”
She didn’t even flinch. Marissa had worked with me long enough to be unfazed by my demands.
“You also have a missed call from the manager of a store in L.A. She wanted to discuss stocking our clothes. Should I call her back?”
“Not now. Make them wait a little, or we’ll seem desperate. If they haven’t called back by noon, then put a call through.”
I rummaged through the mess on my desk until I found my sketchbook. “Is that all?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Thank you, Marissa. I wouldn’t survive without you.”
She clasped her hands together and chuckled softly. “Thank you. You look amazing, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
She gave me one last nod and walked out.
I smoothed down my outfit with a satisfied smile. I’ve been obsessed with clothes and looking good since I was a kid. I used to spend hours searching for the perfect outfit. If I’m being honest, I still do.
I took off my coat, draped it over the chair, and got to work.
I made my way around the facility, inspecting the dresses being sewn and ensuring everything was on track for the launch of our next collection in three months.
Once my routine check was done, I returned to my office to see what I could come up with.
Thirty minutes of sketching, then tearing up those same sketches later, I decided I was wasting my time. Frustrated, I grabbed my coat, threw it over my shoulders, and headed to Marissa’s office.
“I’m going out for a few minutes, probably to the store downtown,” I told her. “If the manager calls back, answer it.”
“What should I tell her?”
“Say whatever you think I would say.”
Her eyes widened considerably, making me chuckle. “You need to grow a mean bone or two, Marissa.”
“I’ll try my best.”
Translation: I can’t do it and will be a nicer version of you.
“While you’re at it, Marissa.” she looked up from her laptop, “don’t skip lunch today. If you do, I’ll fire you.”
