Danilo
"So you want to make a cow print leather skirt for cowboys to wear?" I stared at the prototype on the mannequin with complete bafflement whilst Miley was red faced next to me. I could tell she was trying with everything in her not to laugh but it seemed to be a losing battle as she disguised it with a cough.
I was glad she was having fun because so far I felt like killing myself.
Stephanie nodded eagerly thinking I probably loved the idea. "Clothes don't have a gender. It's a big movement nowadays and to get a legacy fashion house like B&B will really change the industry. Everyone will be talking about it."
"There's a difference between bad publicity and good publicity," I took off my sunglasses and massaged the bridge of my nose, "if I had to walk into a bar deep in Texas wearing a skirt. They'd shoot me before I even got to say howdy."
"The people who wear B&B don't go to uncivilized events," she shook her head. "This is for the elite."
"I wouldn't be shot by someone uncivilized. I'll be shot by my own Pa," I stressed, "I asked for something new Stephanie. The position of my creative assistant is a big one. This is your chance to show me that your vision matched mine. Your name will be next to mine. This ain't nothing like what I imagined."
"I'll turn them into pants," she pouted and looked through her sketches. "I promise you if it was sewn better it would be perfect."
"It's sewn to perfection," I sighed, "we can't blame the stitchers if you don't have the creative talent." I grabbed my hat from the table then headed for the door, "Bring me something that won't get me killed in the state of Alabama."
I left without looking back and headed straight for my elevator.
"So that was a very fruitful meeting," Miley beamed as she walked next to me as we headed for the elevator.
"It was terrible," I groaned. As soon as we entered I rested my back against the mirror wall and shook my head so many times I was surprised I wasn't dizzy. "Stephanie and I couldn't work together even if she has five hoofs. We don't fit."
"It's really not a match made in heaven. Cow print leather skirts, fur boots and matching poncho. Uncle Bobby would get a heart attack. It ain't the company at all."
The elevator doors opened when we reached my floor and we both kept quiet as we passed the managers to my office.
"The attic ain't got licensing yet?" I threw myself down on my chair and swirled it to look out to the ocean.
"They said another two weeks before we could start construction. You'll just have to get used to smiling with your managers until then."
As if things couldn't get any worse. I couldn't even scratch my ass without being worried a manager was looking. The glass door idea was the first thing to go after the first two weeks of work. For now I had simple roll down blinds but I was counting the days until the top floor was approved so construction could start.
I had a great idea for my main office which involved privacy. Miley would occupy my current office and I could be all alone upstairs. I didn't work well in compact spaces and I wanted out almost immediately, yet it would take four months to finish even if they had to start.
"At this rate when it comes to the collection I won't have it ready," I ran my hand along my jaw as I tried to think of a plan. "We'll have to send out applications for new designers. Maybe we need a fresh take on this. Stephanie has been in this for too long she's starting to lose sight."
"Would you like it to be to the public or should we keep it internal?"
"Let's keep it internal. Only B&B branches in America. If there's no success we'll open it up to other branches around the world. Anyone can apply, director down to janitors. I really don't care. Let's make sure the applications are anonymous. You'll know who they are but I shouldn't. It will keep things less biassed."
"Closing application dates?"
"Two weeks. I can't afford to wait any longer."
"Yes Sir. I'll have it ready by tomorrow morning," she saluted. "Anything else?"
I shook my head, "thank you Miley."
"No problemo," she was quick to leave and I relaxed in my chair.
Not seconds later my phone dinged and it seemed so did my body because I sat up automatically. I looked around then stood up to pull down the blinds before I threw myself back down on the chair.
I pulled out my phone from my jeans front pocket and smiled when I saw the pigeon emoji that I used for Dove's contact name. He was the only person in the world who was named after a Dove and couldn't identify what one looked like.
His first proper text said 'Oh, it looked like a Dove but we'll just say it's a gray dove'. I laughed for a proper ten minutes when I saw it.
I didn't even know what I was thinking texting a nineteen year old who wasn't my brother or one of my many cousins. Yet it had been a week of back and forth texts. Our conversation ranged from doves, pigeons, ducks; I always had to talk about ducks, him being in university and a stitcher.
Whenever he fished around for more information about me I answered him vaguely enough that he got an answer but not too on point that he figured out who I am.
To him I was Bucky Taylor, who was from Texas and worked in sales. It wasn't a lie. I did work in sales just on a much larger scale.
When he asked me what I sold, I answered 'horse riding equipment'. Apparently there was a big demand for those in Miami.
Not.
But he didn't doubt me.