SCARLET MEETS MILA

8

Scarlet doesn't like me.

I spend the rest of the day convincing myself that I'm worthy of being here, but the reality of the situation sets in with little remorse. Harlow told me that Scarlet didn't want me here, and she made me aware that any wrongdoing could have me walking home with nothing more than a goodbye.

I took the job for Maisie. She deserves to eat more than ramen in the evenings. She deserves to wear shoes without holes, and more than anything, she deserves to sleep in her own bed. I have to grit my teeth and endure this environment for her, for us.

When I pick her up from Willow, her eyes light with joy. She spends the entire walk home asking me about the incredible 'princess workshop' she imagines I work in. I try to correct her gently, but I'm quick to stop myself when noticing the awe in her toothy smile.

I explain that my new boss has pretty black hair and sparkly green eyes. I tell her that she wears beautiful gowns and has an office bigger than our apartment. I consciously leave out her abrasive and somewhat intimidating personality, however.

That evening, as I tuck Maisie into bed, her innocent ramble about princesses and pretty dresses mumbles into a tired whisper. I promise her more stories tomorrow, kissing her forehead before turning to face the other way in thought.

***

I close my eyes tight before pushing through the open elevator. I can already hear Fox's voice over the low hum of chatter and muttering laughs. Yesterday feels like a blur now, and no matter how hard I try to compose myself, the pattern of my fast-beating heart glues me to the spot.

It takes me a full minute to walk towards the storage unit that holds my bag. The clang of my metal key chain elicits a few curious looks from the models across the room. One of them sniggers and shakes her head. I can't help but feel like she shares Scarlet's unwelcoming attitude.

"Morning", Harlow emerges from within her office like a silky bird, bright and classy with a wedge of papers hidden beneath her arm as she struts towards Scarlet's closed office.

I smile before looking across to the floor. I spent the entirety of my day cleaning yesterday. Fox looks puzzled, holding his chin with a piece of fabric hanging from a model's hip. "It's not meeting", he groans to Ember, the fiery-haired designer clutching a distressed pair of scissors. "It needs to curve around here, you see?"

"It's impossible?" Ember replies, tugging at the material. "It's too long? The measurements must have gotten mixed up."

Fox shakes his head, a stressed hand meeting the dark locks of hair on his forehead. "Scar wouldn't mix up measurements like this", he laughs anxiously. "I'm sure we're missing something."

I walk towards the pair, hoping to be assigned my first task of the day. "Hi." I smile anxiously, but without reply, Fox discards a handful of fabric swatches into my arms. "Take these, they're wrong!" Before turning to Ember, "Get Scarlet out here. We need clarification."

I stumble against the wall and shove the fragmented garments into a black bag. Ember scurries away while Fox continues to work, and within less than a second, Scarlet emerges from her office with a dominating strut towards the standing model.

I pause, standing as close to the wall as possible while the waft of her intense perfume races to greet me. She looks flawless today, her winged eyeliner sharp yet elegant. Her focused eyes greet the model's hip while grabbing a pin between her lips.

"We can't get it to meet like the design", Fox stammers, pointing at the garment while Scarlet slowly kneels in front of the model's thighs. A rush of blood floods my chest as she immediately starts to work, and for some reason, it makes me nervous.