Beautiful People | wlw

One: Unfair

It would be unfair to suggest Vera was trying to get fired.

Sure, this was the second day in a row she had stumbled into her shift at the bridal salon half an hour late, but it wasn't her fault that the driver's wife had called him halfway through the route yesterday to say she was leaving him. He only paused long enough to dump his passengers on the sidewalk before yanking the bus around to dash home. And it certainly wasn't Vera's fault that today's replacement bus driver had turned a corner right into a parked car, leaving her stranded again.

So Vera had to wait for the next bus. It wasn't a big deal. It was only twenty minutes, and clients were rarely on time for their appointments anyway. Mona couldn't have expected Vera to walk the rest of the way. It was raining, and her boots had three-inch heels.

Vera didn't mind the delay, even if she didn't love huddling close between other grumpy passengers in the steaming bus shelter, rain hissing against the glass overhead. She did love having twenty extra minutes to scroll through the photos from the latest runway show by Fatima Bhatia, a waterfall of willowy models stalking across her phone screen in bold colours and non-traditional silhouettes. A glittering inspiration. Someday those would be Vera's designs making jaws drop at Fashion Week.

Thumbing through the shots, Vera could already see her celebrity crush Carmen Juarez wearing the exquisite gown constructed of draping sunset-pink folds and brown leather panels with gold wire accents. The dress was dramatic, a statement, and so much better than the boring princess-prom dresses Carmen so often wore to swan down a red carpet.

The next bus lurched up to the stop with a groan. Sheets of rain followed the delayed passengers in through the creaky door, thickening the clammy air inside the bus until it stank of wet wool and helpless anger. Vera squeezed between a sweaty man who coughed like he was trying to bring up a lung and a woman chattering nonstop into the phone held close to her ear. Pushing onto her toes to hook her fingertips through a strap, Vera banged the phone-call woman with her purse. The woman cut a glare as filthy as if Vera had insulted her dog. Vera pretended not to notice, just opened her notes app to start drafting the fashion week posts for her blog one-handed.

Chilly sweat oozed down the back of her neck. It was a good thing she had taken her outfit of the day selfies before she left her apartment, instead of waiting to get an atmospheric shot in the rain.

When the bus finally puttered up to her stop, Vera escaped the steamy, sweaty cage with a sigh of relief. Clutching her umbrella close, she clicked up the stairs into the bridal salon as fast as her heels would allow.

Inside the airy loft, Mona was still getting the blonde bride and her giggling entourage settled on the white leather chairs. She hadn't even brought out the champagne yet, but that was probably because the champagne was Vera's job. While she hurried to unravel her scarf and unbutton her coat, Mona threw her a brief, pinched look that said, I am not happy with you. Vera couldn't bring herself to care.

Turning back to the customers, a brilliant smile curved Mona's thin pink lips like someone had flipped a switch and reset her to factory default. "And this is my assistant, Vera. She'll help us figure out what shapes are most flattering on you. She knows a little bit about style."

Vera snorted softly as she retrieved the bubbly from the fridge and counted out six deceptively cheap champagne flutes onto a tray. A year and a half of design school and a fashion blog with thirty thousand followers wasn't a little, but Mona had never been impressed by Vera's credentials. "If you're such a big deal then why do you want a job here?" she had asked at the interview. Vera had made up some bullshit excuse about wanting to learn instead of admitting that no one else was impressed by her credentials, either. An unfinished degree was worth nothing, and thirty thousand followers wasn't impressive next to influencers who had millions.