Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

92 - Rebecca

The next few days kind of just snuck up on me. Between managing all the designers as they made my designs to switching back and forth randomly between sleeping at home and Colby's house, the time was just flying by. For the first time in a while, I was feeling like this could be my life from then on.

We had a routine—and a moderately strict one, too. I would wake up at the same time every day, go down to the studio, work until Colby arrived, then, depending on whether he had a job or not, he would appear at the studio—without a car—and drive me in my car either to my apartment or his house. Most nights, it was his house. So we would spend most of the night together even if we were in the red room or sitting outside by the pool with the others until midnight. The latest was one am—since I was suddenly conscious of what time I would wake up the next day—and that's when Colby and I would go to bed. Sometimes there was a little messing around involved but he still infuriated me by keeping himself out of my reach in that field. He never explained the secret, which I found amusing at this point because he would zip around the house in front of me, come up behind me silently, and his friends would all drink ambiguous red liquids I didn't know the name of.

It was like I knew the gist of the secret, but still wasn't trusted enough to be told it outright. As soon as my showcase was over and done with, I was going to find out the secret. I didn't care who I had to ask if Colby himself didn't tell me, I was going to know. A part of me already did—that was the logical part that put all the pieces together, no matter how crazy it sounded or stupid it seemed.

Nevertheless, today was being chalked up to be no different than normal: I had woken up around the same time, worn something just as teasing as I had ever since Colby had rejected me (a short red plaid skirt and a black crop top that laced up at the sides), and gone to the studio. The first two designs had been made already—Jax's and Helen's. They had almost been here longer than I had, which astonished me. Now that we had mutual ground, they weren't so scared of me; they saw me more as a boss now than the devil incarnate. My attitude still bit them now and then.

I was sitting in my office, my feet up on the desk as I refined a new sketch—part of a new collection that was mostly blue—when I heard footsteps coming downstairs. My first instinct was that it was Colby, but it was still too light outside for that. I doubted he was even awake. The footsteps were frustratingly unfamiliar, so it had to be one of the workers. I waited until they got to the door, revealing Maggie in all her blue-haired glory.

She was still hesitant, but she smiled as she knocked carefully on my door. I looked up at her silently—my nice way of treating my employees—and she brought a coat hanger around the corner with black fabric sewn intricately together. It was a dress paired with another that looked similar, but unique in its own way. I found myself forcing a smile. "Helen has finished her designs and this is my first." She explained.

"Good. Exactly like the sketches." I replied stiffly. I couldn't exactly tell her I thought it was great even though I did. So I settled for the stiff response and took them from her. "Tell Helen to come downstairs."

"Yes, Ms Woods."

I almost told Maggie to call me Rebecca as she walked off. Was I ready for that, to be known by my employees by my first name? It felt like it was a step too far in the 'good boss' direction, and I didn't like that all too much. I was happy in the middle ground where sometimes I even smiled a little bit and other times I blew up on them—those were the frustrating days.

I walked to the storage room right next to my office—the locked storage room—and went inside to put the designs with the other three on the mannequins. I was just pulling the one dress over the torso when Helen slid silently in behind me and picked up the other dress. She gave me a brief, forced smile as she worked with me. I didn't say anything until it was done, and we were both stepping back to admire the work.

This was a line that I was genuinely excited about. The showcase was way out of my comfort zone—forced small talk and polite smiles—but that didn't mean I wasn't at least a little excited to show off my hard work. The digital versions of these designs had been dramatically halted; I saw no reason to complete them with the real version right in front of me.

I motioned Helen to follow me back to my office after locking the storage room door and sat down in my chair with my feet up on the desk again. I was aware that my skirt was riding dangerously up my thigh, but I ignored it. This was Helen, who wasn't exactly going to get hot and bothered by my exposed body. Colby would have difficulty being in here.

Helen waited nervously in my doorway, refusing to even come into the room. She had one hand on her elbow, the other clenching in and out of a fist anxiously. I didn't know what she was scared of; she had completed both of the designs assigned to her first. So I tried my best to relieve her worry. "You completed both designs. I suppose I should have given you three instead of two. Do you always work this quickly?" My voice was softer than it had ever been in these walls.

She nodded. "Um, yes. Most of the time."

"That's a good quality to have, especially around me. Who is nowhere near finishing?"

She cringed as if she was really giving me the name of someone who I would murder. I hadn't decided yet, but it was unlikely. Her voice was faint. "Lewis." She admitted. "He's just young and needs a little—"

I cut her off. "Help him, if you would. The showcase is too soon to be slow now. If he makes deadline, I couldn't care less if all three of you are helping him." She nodded silently. "Go on, then. And... thank you, for finishing your designs early."

Caught off guard, Helen didn't reply to that as she fluttered away down the hall. I tapped my fingers over my desk in thought.

Did I just thank an employee?