Navigating through the fashion world made me feel like I babysat ten toddlers, each crawling in their own direction. In the fitting room, I had to console the models, assuring them that they didn’t look bloated in their runway dresses. For God’s sake, some of them look deprived of all vitamins and even water.
Then I had to dash to the production room and explain to the showrunner for the fifth time the reason for the sequence of the models.
In my earpiece, I hear Giovanni ask me if everything is in order. He, too, is like a child that I have to nurture. Constantly, I have to stroke his ego by affirming that his designs are revolutionary (eye roll) and will change the industry for the better. Sigh.
The caterer interrupts our conversation, informing me that she has served the last portion of caviar an hour into the show. Interpretation: Can you please go to the shop for me because I’m in way over my head? I drop my head and close my eyes.
I jog to the car, and the tires screech as I pull off. The approaching traffic light turned yellow, so I stepped on the gas. Not today, sucker. I swoosh past the intersection, hoping that everyone in the vicinity obeys the rules. It’s enough for one person to step out of line to cause a major collision with me.
In front of the shop, I leap out of the car and dash inside. I sweep all the caviar off the table into my basket and scuttle to the cashier.
She shakes her head after I swipe my card. I swipe it again. The card machine beeps. She shakes her head again. For crying out loud, woman, do you know how to talk?
I pull out another card from my wallet and swipe it. Thank God. I can’t believe that I have to be grateful for completing the simplest tasks. But that’s how tedious my life has become.
The drive back to the arena is quicker than to the shop. The entire way, I pray to avoid a collision.
My phone rings. Oh, my goodness. Who is it now? I look at my phone and see Giovanni’s name. For once in my life, I would love to ignore him. I’d pay to experience that. But I’ve never dared to tempt fate because it could lead to unemployment.
“Yes, Giovanni?”
“Where are you, Scooby?”
I hate that nickname. During the job interview, Giovanni couldn’t pronounce Liam (yeah, go figure), so, according to him, he affectionately referred to me as Scooby. He said that was easier for him to pronounce than Liam.
“Right out front. I’m walking in as we speak.”
“Have you checked on the models? They seem a bit cranky. I want happy models, not puffy ones.”
Hearing him use the word puffy reminded me of the pressure that the models felt to remain anorexic.
After handing the caterer the bag of caviar, I went to the fitting room and interjected the argument between two models, bickering about who was Giovanni’s favourite. Out of breath, I exhaled a deep breath and rubbed my forehead, flabbergasted that I had tolerated my job for years. How on Earth did I get to this point? I should’ve resigned after the first fashion show.
Every time I wanted to hand in my resignation, Giovanni used his Italian charm to persuade me to stay. He knew how to make me pity him by telling me that his empire would crumble without my help. I wouldn’t call his company an empire, but I knew he would struggle without me. I’ve been by his side for ten years and have dedicated my life to his company. I would feel that all my efforts would be worthless if I were to leave.
I wasn’t certain what my goal was at the company. Maybe to be the CEO? Whatever my destiny was at Abbati Designs, I felt it was better than starting over at another company. I dreaded the mere thought of that.
One of the few normal people at the company was Kimberly. She was a model who joined us last year and took pride in not succumbing to the stereotype of drinking, smoking and sleeping around. Her skin always glowed, and she claimed to use only facial cream. Odd. Most of our models needed two hours in makeup to slightly resemble her skin tone.
The words she used to communicate revealed her maturity and intelligence. I felt that she balanced the scales of our debauched industry with her poise. With each encounter with her, I felt teleported to a place where normality was praised and rewarded.
As soon as Giovanni’s voice entered my ears through the earpiece, my utopia vanished, and I continued to traverse through the apocalypse backstage.
Although highly complex to manage, our fashion shows have gone without a hitch. Except for the time when a model stood on her dress on the runway, and the spaghetti straps ripped off her shoulders as she stepped forward. Her boobs fell out, but nobody gawked. Most of the collection consists of skimpy outfits. Initially, Giovanni was furious about the incident, but he viewed it as a blessing in disguise after the press coverage.
Giovanni has slept with almost every model. Considering his sexual advances with Kimberly, I don’t think he’s slept with her. Usually, he ignores a model after sleeping with her because he views her as a conquest.
He asked several times if I thought something was wrong with Kimberly. I assumed that he believed every in-house model who didn’t want to sleep with him was mentally impaired. Usually, I replied, “She’s probably seeing someone who’s very controlling and fears for her life if she cheated.”
Giovanni told me I should tell Kimberly that he would guarantee her safety if they were intimate. I chuckled internally and always found an excuse to avoid relaying that message.
Kimberly told me that she became a model to earn a high income to support her parents and that she would leave after saving a significant amount. I struggled to believe that she would ever leave because fashion models earn a high income without straining themselves.
I viewed her as the last beacon of hope in the industry, and if she ever fell prey to it, I would lose all hope in humanity.
Behind me, the next group of models lined up. I peeked behind the curtain at the runway. Although petulant behind the scenes, the models wore their game faces in front of the crowd. The runway was the only place where they were professional and mature. Months of hard work have resulted in this moment. After tonight’s show, we start with next year’s collection tomorrow. This is the tenth show that I’ve organised, and every one was extremely challenging. It never got easier.
I give Giovanni credit for acknowledging the team’s efforts. We always have a staff party after a show, and he gives an appraisal speech before telling us to enjoy the buffet and the open bar.
Most of the models indulge in only a few bites, some even glance at Giovanni while filling their plates to make sure that he won’t disapprove of their portions. I often felt sorry for them, but my pity vanished when I thought about their earnings—more than double my salary for standing in front of a camera and walking down the runway.
“How is everything going, Scooby?” Giovanni’s voice entered my earpiece.
“Everything is in order, Giovanni. I’ve got it under control.”
“Good. That’s what I want to hear. No screw ups, okay?”
“As you wish, boss.”
I looked at the chandelier above Madame Badaracco’s head and noticed a snapped cable. The chandelier had tilted slightly to the side as two cables held it up, seeming extremely precarious. She was our VIP guest, and her safety was a priority.
I looked at the runway and saw two models strutting, wearing our show-stopping pieces. I couldn’t interrupt the show. Giovanni would go berserk. But risking anyone’s safety wasn’t an option.
I walked in front of the first row, apologising for blocking their view. Some people frowned, probably confused about seeing an imbecile in front of the runway. Others shook their heads, seeming in complete disbelief at my unprofessionalism.
As I approached Madame Badaracco, I looked at the chandelier and saw another cable snap, tilting it sideways. I was convinced that it would plummet soon.
I dived at her, the crowd gasped as the momentum of my leap speared me at her, my hands landing on her chest. Her chair fell back, and I landed on top of her. I raised my head off her chest and saw her open mouth and droopy eyelids, looking like she was semi-unconscious.
Two firm hands gripped my arms and raised me off Madame Badaracco. Complete silence fell upon the venue as everyone stared at me. I looked at Madame Badaracco and said, “I’m so sorry, Madame. My sincerest apologies.” I looked up. “The chandelier looks like it can drop any second.”
The crowd behind her looked up and then parted. The two security guys pulled me back as another two helped Madame Badaracco to her feet.
Giovanni appeared in front of me, face flushed and jaw clenched.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked, voice piercing.
“I saw two cables snap from the chandelier, and I thought it would fall down on Madame Badaracco.
He looked at it for several seconds, then turned his back and said, “In my office, now,” as he walked away.
I closed my eyes and bowed my head briefly before following him. Most of the crowd had dispersed as I reached the curtain. I looked back at the venue and felt completely empty. All the efforts I exerted during the last few months were futile, leaving me with even more work in the aftermath. That’s if I remained employed.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Giovanni said loudly in his office, then paced as he rubbed his forehead, his other hand on his hip.
“I’m sorry, Giovanni. I didn’t want anything to happen to Madame Badaracco. When the second cable snapped, I knew I had to react immediately. Otherwise, it could’ve fallen on her. I couldn’t risk her safety. If something had happened to her, you might as well shut down Abbati Designs for good.”
He stopped pacing, glared at me for some time, then lowered his gaze and exhaled deeply out of his nose.
“You should have informed me,” he said.
“There wasn’t any time. One second of hesitation could’ve been fatal.”
He looked at the floor and shifted his puckered lips left and right. He raked his fingers through his hair and said, “This whole thing is a mess.”
“I should probably check on the maintenance guys to make sure they’ve secured the area under the chandelier.”
“Yeah. Go do that, and we’ll talk later.”
I wasn’t certain if my job was still on the line. Maybe Giovanni needed time to contemplate the consequences of the incident and would then decide my fate.
In the venue, I stood in front of the red cones and looked up at the maintenance guys, propped up by the aerial platform.
How could this happen? Why couldn’t the cables snap a few minutes later? It had to be during the key moment of the show, as eyes were supposed to be on the main outfits.
I closed my eyes and sighed. Just when I thought I was in the final stretch, I collapsed and failed to cross the finish line. Wonderful. Just wonderful. Wanting the night to go without a hitch was too much to ask for—typical of my life.
My life is largely preoccupied by chaos. At least, ever since I joined Abbati Designs. This place has aged me in dog years and made me wonder what pain I caused to deserve the one I received.
I got home at around eleven pm, slumped onto the couch and exhaled a deep breath. I thought about the repercussions I would face in the morning. Although Giovanni understood my intentions, he held me responsible for ruining his show.
My phone beeped. Ugh, who is it now?
I checked my phone and saw a message from Giovanni. I frowned, confused by his choice of communication. When last did he send me a message? He always calls.
‘Maybe it’s best that you take a couple days off.’
I released my grip on the phone, enabling it to slide out of my hand. I had no strength to deal with more bad news. Giovanni’s message made me realise why he hadn’t called. The coward was too scared to tell me that I was on involuntary leave.
The tension in my head exacerbated. I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my temples. I suffered too much torment for one day. Even I can take only so much.
After the shower, I drank an entire bottle of water. On second thought, I should’ve poured myself a double whisky on the rocks. Fortunately, I didn’t have a bottle in the house. Otherwise, I would’ve finished it.
Lying in bed, I looked at the ceiling and thought about what I would do in the morning. For the first time in years, I was free on a weekday. Giovanni made me work every Saturday, despite giving the majority of the staff the day off. He insisted that I work certain Sundays to triple-check that everything was in order.
I closed my eyes and then opened them in the morning.
I yawned while reaching for my phone. My eyes broadened as I jolted off the pillow. I couldn’t believe that it was ten o’clock. Five missed calls and about twelve messages. I figured that my colleagues were unaware of my leave. Giovanni usually arrived at work around midnight, so he hadn’t informed them yet.
In the company group, I sent a message to tell them that I wouldn’t come in for a few days. I didn’t want to mention involuntary leave because some of the staff would be angrier with Giovanni. They held a grudge against him for several reasons, and I didn’t want to pour more fuel on their fire.
Several colleagues wanted to know the reason for my absence, and one asked if Giovanni was to blame. I told them that I would explain everything when I returned. I wondered if that would ever happen.
After buying eggs, bacon and vegetables at a supermarket, I went home and made breakfast. Every day, I buy a sandwich or a salad at the coffee shop across the street from work. The cashiers are going to wonder where I am.
The clock struck midday. I felt odd about being at home. Usually, I would’ve completed five hours of work by that time. Today, I hadn’t even brushed my teeth. I planned to do it after lunch.
Not having anything to do, I watched a comedy, hoping that it would get my mind off work. It didn’t work. That was all I could think about. Although I complained about working at Abbati Designs, I was more disheartened by not being at work.
My head snapped in the direction of my phone as it rang. I snatched it off the couch and smiled.
“Kimberly, hi. How are you?”
“Hi, Liam. I’m great, thank you. I hope you’re well.”
I felt much better after hearing her voice. Not wanting to sound desperate for her consolation, I responded, “I’m okay.”
“I heard that you’re not coming into work for a few days. Everyone blames Giovanni for that. I can’t believe he did that to you. You’ve given your whole life to his company. Even last night’s incident wasn’t your fault. You were trying to save his show.”
“I’m sure he’ll cool off, and I’ll be back eventually.”
“But it’s not fair. You deserve much better treatment. You’re one of the few decent people at the company, maybe even in the industry. I’ve always looked up to you.”
My eyes broadened. “Really?”
“Yes. I always envied you for tolerating Giovanni’s condescending remarks. He tried to play it off as a joke, but his comments were never funny to me. I felt that he was very disrespectful to you and took you for granted.”
“It’s just how he is.”
“Well, that’s not acceptable. You don’t have to put up with it. I’m sure that other fashion houses would be thrilled to have you on their team.”
“I couldn’t do that to Giovanni. He’d blow a gasket if I did something like that.”
“Liam,” Kimberly said sternly. She added, “You need to stop worrying about him and think about your future. And I don’t think that it’s at Abbati Designs.”
Silence ensued as her words sank into my heart. Nobody ever said that to me, and I definitely had never considered my future anywhere else. But she was right. I didn’t owe Giovanni anything, and I could seek employment anywhere I pleased.
“Liam, you still there?”
“Yes. I was just taken aback by what you said. But you’re right. I just don’t know if I could go through with it. Giovanni’s counting on me.”
“No, he isn’t, Liam. If he were, you would be at work today.”
“He’ll get over what I did.”
“You did nothing wrong,” she said, her voice piercing through the phone. “You need to stop blaming yourself for Giovanni’s ill treatment of you.”
“Yeah.”
“Look, I know you’re in complete disbelief about what happened, and you probably can’t stop thinking about it. But you need to get your mind off it. I’m available after work, so I’ll pick you up, and we’ll go and do something fun, okay?”
“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,” I said, feeling that pitying me encouraged her offer.
“You don’t have a choice. What I say goes.”
“Now, you sound like Giovanni.”
We chuckled.
Kimberly ended the call. I wished it had lasted longer. Although I knew I’d talk to her in a few hours, ending the conversation felt like she had robbed me of the joy that she could have prolonged. But I was grateful that she gave me a taste of it. I knew I’d feast more later.
I stood on the balcony, leaning forward on the rails and looking into the city. All it took for me to gain a new lease on life and uplift my spirits was a conversation with an amazing woman. I realised how beneficial someone like Kimberly would be to my life.
Since I started working for Giovanni, I had two girlfriends. The first relationship, with Jade, lasted for three years. Monica and I barely made it to six months because she wanted to get married, and I felt that my finances weren’t in order and work was a priority.
I understood Monica’s urgency to get married while she was in her twenties. Actually, I wish more women shared her mindset on marriage.
For the last seven years, an empty apartment welcomed me home. Had a woman waited for me with a hot meal and a pleasant conversation, my time at Abbati Designs would’ve felt less arduous. Regardless of how tough my day was, I knew that I could seek refuge at home. Now, my home serves as a place where I continue to dwell on the day that I had.
I popped my head inside the apartment and looked at the clock. Oh, God. Kimberly won’t be here for several hours. I can watch a movie to kill some time.
On the couch, my shoulders lowered, and the tension in my forehead eased. My lips curled as I watched the two misfits kiss. They were incompatible in the most obvious ways, yet completely perfect for each other in subtle ways.
I chuckled several times as they bickered about trivial matters. On certain occasions, their bickering escalated to a physical altercation. They sometimes even fell asleep, backs turned towards each other. But they always made up, feeling petulant about fighting.
Their lovemaking was passionate, intense and long. I envied them. Having somebody to fight and then have makeup sex with was better than battling internal dialogue.
The movie ended, and I exhaled a breath of relief because they ended up together. Throughout the movie, I thought that they would kill each other or end up with somebody else. In the end, true love always prevails. I wondered if I would ever have it.
The time was four pm. I figured that Kimberly would arrive, at the latest, by six.
I leapt out of the chair, realising that I may not have the drinks that she wanted. Scanning the shelves in the fridge, I saw that the offering was limited. What would Kimberly think of me if I were a bad host? I can’t make a bad first impression.
I went to the supermarket. Not knowing what Kimberly drinks, I bought wine, juice, sparkling water, beer, vodka and Coke. Surely, she would be satisfied with one of those?
I hadn’t asked her what she ate, so I figured that I would get takeout when she arrived. She could be a vegetarian, and I didn’t want to offend her by offering meat.
I inspected my place for dirt. Oh, God. The bathroom wasn’t immaculate. I was certain that she would use it and would probably assume that my bedroom was a pigsty. Then she’d return to the lounge and glance to spot more dirt. No, I can’t have that.
I scrubbed the tub, then the sink and even the tiles. I mopped the floor and waited for it to dry to inspect it again.
In the kitchen, I looked at the counter, cupboards and the oven. It seemed clean. But were my eyes tricking me? Could it be that I got used to the way those surfaces looked that I was oblivious to their filth?
I examined them again and convinced myself that negative internal talk would drive me insane. I could use the involuntary leave as an excuse for my apartment being in disarray.
My doorbell rang, and my head snapped towards the door. Who could that be? I looked at the clock and saw that it was quarter past five. Could it be Kimberly? I thought she would be here later.
I looked through the peephole. Oh, my. She’s here. I grunted, swallowed and then dusted myself off as though a sandstorm of dust had swept over me.
I opened the door and smiled. “Hi.”
Kimberly smiled and hugged me. Oh, wow. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Come in, please.”
As she stepped inside, her back to me, I added, “Excuse the mess.”
I rolled my eyes and cringed on the inside. I don’t know what possessed me to say that. Probably insecurity. Kimberly went out onto the balcony.
She walked back in and said, “Great place. I love the view of the city. It’s amazing.”
“Thanks.” I looked around and said, “This is my safe haven.”
“Very nice. You’ve got great taste,” said Kimberly, admiring the Renaissance paintings.
She sat on the couch.
“What can I get you to drink?”
“Do you have sparkling water?”
I smiled and said, “I do, actually.”
Thank God I had what she wanted. I poured myself a Coke and then handed her a glass before sitting beside her.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Much better now that you’re here.”
We smiled and stared at each other. I felt slightly uncomfortable gazing at her for long because I thought she’d view me as a creep, but I didn’t want to break eye contact. Confidence was key to seducing her. Even if I wouldn’t bed her, I wanted Kimberly to bask in my masculinity.
“I’ve got something to tell you about Giovanni that’s going to change everything,” said Kimberly.
Her sombre expression made me believe that her knowledge could incriminate Giovanni.
TO BE CONTINUED…