Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

39 - Rebecca

          Music pounded upstairs as I stood by the front door clutching my sketchbook in my hand. I could hear the laughter and happiness from every corner of the studio, and my need for a distraction became certain to be answered.

I walked, carefully slowly, up the stone steps towards the main studio room, where all five designers were sat.

Broken Chair Girl was the first one I noticed, measuring the waist of a mannequin whilst a different girl — one with blue hair, so I named her Blue Girl — held a piece of fabric up to the same mannequin; Jax was in the corner working in a sketchbook; Watercolour Girl was painting in her sketchbook; the other boy — I decided to call him Beanie because he was wearing an emo beanie that looked terrible with his outfit — was busy hand-sewing a seam. Jax was the first to notice me but he didn't say anything or turn down the music, twisting his pencil this way and that on the paper.

I hadn't expected a welcome and I didn't ask for one when the others noticed me. I barely even nodded in their direction as I headed for the door to the spiral stairs. They could work up here and I could listen to their music downstairs in my office. It worked.

When I made it down the hall, I hesitated in front of my office door. If this became a regular thing, was I giving in to becoming a designer? Could I accept something like that? I was here to distract myself from my mother and Angela, but it seemed everything would make me think of them. I groaned and walked into my office. Leaving the door open, I slumped into my chair and lifted my feet onto the desk causing a little puff of dust to float into the atmosphere.

First thing's first: cleaning. It was the least I could do if I was going to be in here.

After about an hour, multiple spider run-ins, and lots of terrible polishing jobs, the room looked almost as good as new. I realised that I could have been using this office for anything this whole time, rather than staying away from it, but I could kick myself about that later when I wasn't ready to design some clothes.

Something was seriously wrong with me.

Using the pencil case I had left in here, I started to colour certain designs. Most of them were black and a similar style — like a line, rather than individual pieces. Things started to swirl in my head and I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the inspirational feeling. Just like I was starting to think Colby and I could work, I was starting to think I could design. Jax's offer ran through my head; I wouldn't even have to make the pieces, only design them.

I spent about an hour refining every detail about my sketches — anything other than the thumbnails. I started to number them and write at the back of the sketchbook which ones seemed to work together, and which ones didn't. I found that I had about ten designs, which would all work as a mini line. I photocopied those designs, setting the newly printed ones out on my desk. I found one that I didn't like and replaced it with another from my sketchbook. That one worked.

Staring at it, I couldn't exactly think of a name for the line. The clothes were all black, red, purple, or a deep blue — a few had a checkered sort of design. Most of them were short dresses, though a couple of them were skirts. I huffed and tilted my head and bit my lip and sighed.

Nothing brought a name to my head, so I gave up. I could think of that later. Instead, I worked on finding a little folder in these millions of desk drawers. I eventually found one hiding beneath a heavy stack of papers. I shoved all of the designs inside, mentally assigning this my project folder and grabbed one of the plain pieces of paper, writing across the top, 'Unnamed Project: Dark designs, mini-line,' then the date and my name. And my signature, just for kicks, at the bottom.

I slid the paper in the folder face-up so that I could see it through the transparent covering. Chewing on my lip, I put the project folder onto one of the empty shelves behind my desk. It looked lonely, but there was no way I was going to start designing anything else.

For the first time in years, I pressed a button on the phone on my desk labelled 'Jax'.

After a moment, there were footsteps coming down the stairs and through the hallway. I stared at the doorway until he appeared, hesitant and careful. But when he got there, he looked straight at the folder above my head in surprise, then looked at me questioningly.

"Yes, Miss Woods?"

"Your offer," I said, nodding towards the folder. "Does it still stand?"

"Of course."

"I may be interested in bringing some designs to life. But I need a little time first, and I'd like to create a digital image before I do anything real. You understand."

He nodded.

"I need you to help me out."

"Yes?"

I pointed at the labels on the phone — foreign names I didn't remember. "Who are each of these?"

He cleared his throat as he walked up next to me and looked over the names. There were five, including his. He pointed to each and said their names. Beanie Boy was Lewis, Blue Girl was Maggie, Watercolour Girl was Helen, and Broken Chair Girl was Blair. I wouldn't remember the names soon enough, but at least I had a base now.

"Is that all?" Jax asked, standing in my doorway.

I was about to say yes when my eyes drifted to my sketchbook. I bit my lip for a second, picturing the alien designs.

"No," I answered. I found out the first design that hadn't fit in with the line and ripped the page out, pushing it over the desk towards him. He waited patiently for me to finish taking out the others before he dared to look. He was surprised. "These don't fit in with the others; they wouldn't work as a line," I explained. "They're all a more unique style, but I'm not going to do a line for all of them. So which work together and which don't?"

Jax took a long time to decide this, as if it was the most important decision of his life. He shuffled the pages around constantly, staring intently and thinking. I didn't think I'd ever truly seen him at work before now. And then he put a sketch down and backed away. He nodded approvingly, motioning to the different groups he'd made.

I liked them. There were three — one had two designs, one had four designs, and one had six designs — all with their own aesthetic behind them that I hadn't noticed on my own. I was suddenly glad I'd asked, and for the first time grateful for Jax. That didn't sit well with me.

"I think those work best, Miss Woods."

I nodded silently.

"May I go back to work?"

I nodded again. Jax fled the room and rushed away along the hallway then up the stairs. The music got louder when he opened the door, but it muffled slightly again afterwards. I photocopied my groups separately, writing a similar title page for each of them and putting them in a project folder each.

Maybe I had a couple of projects now, but I wouldn't focus on anything but the biggest, the one I'd put together completely on my own. It was my new baby...

How disgusting.