CHAPTER 10: TWENTY ONE DAYS POST BREAK UP
It has been five days since the article first dropped. For easier understanding, that is equivalent to one hundred and twenty hours or seven thousand, two hundred minutes or four hundred and thirty two thousand seconds. That is a lot of time for an unfounded rumor to have spent in circulation.
I have been told on more than one occasion that I had a very short patience span but I disagree. I had a short patience span for stupid people and stupid conversations, sure, but I have a very long patience span when it comes to important things. I don’t like to act on impulse and ruin things.
This is why I still haven’t done anything even though Joseph hasn’t gotten back to me yet. I sent him another message and gave him two more missed calls but they were ignored just like the others.
I called my publicist and she told me it would be wiser if I didn’t release a statement. We argued about it for a good five minutes before I conceded and told her I wouldn’t say anything. It is so frustrating to have to sit back and do nothing, but I have no other choice. The wrong move can trigger a butterfly effect that even I wouldn’t be able to bitch my way out of.
She advised that if the backlash gets too much then I should disable my comments but I refused. I’m not going to let a few bad comments stop me from being able to receive positive reviews.
I went back to my usual coffee place today, the same place I got flour bombed. I wanted to go to the bookstore but it was out of my way and I was rushing to complete some work at the office.
When I got there, I was called a home wrecker at least two times before 8 a.m. that has got to be some kind of new record. Thankfully, I got my coffee without having food thrown on me and I had a semi decent start to my day.
Marissa wasn’t by her desk by the time I passed so I put the cup of coffee that I got for her on her table. I was careful to place it in the cup holder and not to spill it.
Marissa is so careful with her things. She liked them to be arranged a certain way and I knew it visibly annoys her when she saw my desk as scattered as it usually was which is why she refrained from stepping into my office unless it was necessary.
She had a breakdown once when she accidentally spilled water on the table. There weren’t any important documents but she still freaked out. I got her the cup holder the next day to avoid such accidents again. It took almost half an hour for her to calm down.
She walked into my office around 9 to thank me for the coffee and also to give me some documents to go over. I wish I could focusmore on the fashion aspects of my job and not the actual business aspects. But unfortunately, they are a package deal and as much as I want to delegate my work to someone else, no one will do it the way I want it to be done.
I was going through our financial statements for the past month when there was a knock on my door. I glanced at the clock and my eyes widened when I saw that it read 4 p.m. I didn’t realize time had gone by so fast.
I muttered a quick ‘come in’ and Nathan made his way into my office.
“Don’t you own anything casual?” the words slipped out before I could stop them.
He was in his usual slacks and button up. If not that I had seen him in a sweatshirt I would have bet all my money on the fact that his closet was filled with nothing but button up shirts, slacks and shiny black shoes.
“Good evening, Adira, I had nice day, thanks for asking.” His tone was bored but dripping with sarcasm, “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Touché,” I closed the document in front of me, “Are you ready for this?”
“Let’s start off easy today, how do you feel as the show draws closer?”
“I’m excited of course; it is going to be an amazing show with such wonderful people. I am also a tad bit nervous as well because this is a huge show and I would not want to mess up.” I explained, “Messing up here would be fashion suicide. The tabloids would never let it go.”
He was about to say something when a phone rang. It wasn’t my phone obviously, mine is always on vibrate during our sessions and I know it isn’t his either because I’ve heard his ringtone before.
It took me a second to realize that it was the office phone, and I had specifically told Marissa not to transfer any calls that aren’t important while we are doing our sessions, so it must be important.
“I’m so sorry, but I think I have to take this.” Nathan waved me off and I held the receiver to my ear, “Adira speaking.”
“This is Francine Beaufort, I am so sorry to bother you on a fine evening like this.”
I recognized the name. She’s a well known fashion critic in New York and she is well known for hosting the annual ‘New York Couture Week’. It is very similar to fashion week, only more cut throat and for small scale fashion brands. She invites them all to showcase their best pieces in a high scale competition. And although it has New York in the title; it very rarely holds in New York.
There are usually about five judges and the audience is packed with everyone from A-list celebrities, to potential investors, other massive fashion brands and the meanest fashion critics ever.
It is starting in a little over two weeks and tickets don’t go out until a week prior to the event. I think she does that to create a buzz and a sort of frenzy for the people who do want to attend. Even for celebrities, you have to send an email to her month prior and it still isn’t confirmed that you will get a ticket. Sometimes she sends tickets to people who don’t even send emails or make plans to attend.
I wasn’t able to get a ticket last year which really sucked but I have plans to make it there this year. I sent an email the moment she announced the theme for this year and I am praying that she is calling to tell me that I got a ticket.
“It’s not a problem,” I tried to keep my voice even although I was inwardly freaking out, “How can I help you?”
“I was wondering if you would like to be a judge at Couture Week.”
