Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

84 - Rebecca

"Yes, Ms. Woods?" Jax asked hesitantly from my doorway. I was sat in my chair now, my designs sorted into a pile of three, and three pairs. Jax saw them and hesitated, glancing at the design he and the others had made for me. Some part of him knew what I had decided down here.

"This," I pointed to the pile of three, "you are to look over. These," I motioned to the other three piles, "are for the others to look over. I want tweaks and changes to be reported to me immediately. I will wait. This must be done tonight. Forget about the other designs."

Jax nodded and started to stack the papers in his arms so that he could easily pull them apart for each person. He cleared his throat. "Would you like me to contact Mrs. Woods and Co. and tell them that some changes have been made?"

"No, I will do it," I snapped, "provided I have a phone number to call."

Jax nodded his head to one of the drawers. "Should be in there—the business number. They know me by my first name."

I didn't thank him as he turned and walked out. I faintly heard him calling 'change of plans' over the music upstairs but I didn't focus on that, finding out the piece of paper in my drawer of employees that read 'Woods Designs business number'. It wasn't a whole piece of paper, but rather shoved on an explanation of my mother's company.

For the first time in what seemed like ever, I used the phone on my desk, typing the number and letting it dial.

It felt so old-fashioned not to have a touch screen against my ear. The phone rang a few times, then a mildly familiar voice answered. Lillian, I thought—she was something to do with my mother. This number went straight to the top dogs, apparently. "Hello?" She sounded unhappy like she'd been kept behind after hours.

"This is Rebecca Woods from the LA studio calling in replacement of Jax." I wondered if Jax was a name Lillian knew for more than just business reasons. It wouldn't surprise me, after all, if that was the case. Lillian had never kept it in her pants when attractive men even half or double her age were involved in the business.

But she seemed to sober up at the sound of my voice and name, clearing her throat of her annoyance before she spoke. "Of course. Rebecca."

"Ms. Woods." I corrected, snarling.

"I apologise."

I glowered at the phone. Without accepting her apology, I continued. "Whatever you know about the line, forget it. We are presenting a different line, mostly designed by myself. The other designers in my studio worked together for one of the staple pieces. The whole line will represent this studio to Mrs. Woods and Co. in whatever way needs be."

Lillian was hesitant to reply. "Do you know what they will be used for?"

"Not entirely." Not at all, more like. I hadn't cared enough to ask, just let Jax get on with it and send the designs away. It never occurred to me that there was something else to it.

"Mrs. Woods and Co. are hosting a showcase evening. Normally there would be catwalks, but we are refraining from that this time. The five pieces supposed to be sent to us were going to be represented by Angela Woods," my blood started boiling, "but of course, your studio would be given credit." It didn't fucking sound like we would be given credit for it—not if Angela was the one parading them around.

"Make a change." I snapped angrily. "My sister is not taking the credit for my studio's designs, I can assure you of that. I don't care who you have to talk to or how many schedules and plans you ruin, get me there to represent my line—credit of my studio. Angela has nothing to do with me."

"Ms. Woods—"

"Now. Get it done, Lillian. I will speak to my goddamn mother myself if I have to," though I doubted my passion for designing went that far; I had already done something I knew I would somehow regret. Still, after all the crazy stuff Angela had been trying to convince me of about the guy following her, she wasn't frightened enough to steal my studio's spotlight. She was definitely crazy, though, to think she would get a-fucking-way with it.

I hung up on Lillian after that—my way of assuring she got done what I had told her to get done. I fully expected to be called soon enough by my mother questioning why I was demanding her employee around, but I would make her see that I had my designs, and Angela had hers. We were drastically different and we always would be—not to mention separate; she couldn't represent me as if she wasn't me. I only ever saw the damn woman when she was saying she was being followed.

My phone rang, only it wasn't my mother: it was Colby. I answered it, albeit a little bit reluctantly. "What?" I snapped in a softer tone than if he had been anyone else.

"Jax"—Colby's voice was stiff with the name—"find the designs?"

I growled. "No, but his thick brain came up with something else instead. We're scrapping the designs and using mine instead." Colby was quiet on the other end of the phone, so I kept talking. "I'm also going to represent them at some showcase thing. Don't know the details yet." I paused—he was still silent. "My fucking sister thought she could take all the credit for my studio. After her nutcase ramblings on top of this, she's asking for a fucking punch in her perfect little face."

Colby finally broke his silence. "How long do you think you'll be?"

"A while. The designers are making sure my designs are up to standard. Why?"

He sighed. "Impromptu job; the others are pissed that Sam and I forgot about it."

"Who gives a shit if they're pissed?" I grumbled, though I hoped for Colby's sake that he cared if I was pissed or not—I was, a little, even though the distance could only do us both good. "When are you leaving?"

"Before you come back."

"Then I'll see you later tonight or early tomorrow." I didn't see why this conversation was still going on: it was pretty simple what would happen. He'd been on jobs with me around before.

He was hesitant. "You should go home tonight."

"You should know better than to piss me off more than you already fucking have, Colby. If you value your walls at all, you'll be careful with your next words."

He audibly scowled at the phone. "It'll be easier. Don't be difficult."

"I'm not being fucking difficult. I haven't been given an explanation, for starters. Don't you think you should have begun with that?"

Colby was silent for a long time. I thought I might grow magical abilities and reach through the phone to shake him when he finally snarled out at me. "If you're here, you'll witness something you do not want to see yet. So go home."

"Fuck sake, Colby. Just start with that next time. Drop my bag at my apartment. Bye." I hung up on him before he could reply.