I’ve rolled up all the clichéd ideas of a prom design and created this shit. I look at the dress with distaste. I hate it.
Ann saunters into my office. “Ready?”
I am so not ready. I want to throw up. My first assignment at work and I did one of my worst works, or maybe the worst work.
“Clementine?” Ann asks me again, looking at me with curiosity.
“Yes.” I place a cover over the dress and Ann rolls it to Vanessa’s office. All the way I pray she finds something likable in the design.
“Cherrywood girl.” Vanessa glances up from her computer and then goes back to whatever she was doing. Minutes later she straightens and asks, “What have you got?”
“Design for the prom collection,” I reply meekly.
What I really want to do is run away and come back hopefully next week with something better.
“Let’s see.” She swaggers toward me and signals to remove the black sheer cover.
My hands tremble as I drag the material slowly until it pools in my grip.
“Please tell me there is a real dress below this piece of crap.” Her head tilts to the side and she seriously tries to look under the dress.
“I know it’s not my best work,” I stammer.
“Best? You took one week for this?” She looks at me in genuine surprise and I don’t blame her. Any seasoned designer should be able to do this overnight.
I failed. My throat closes in, and I feel my eyes burn as tears threaten to spill.
Vanessa’s stare doesn’t waver from my face as she is waiting for me to say this was a joke and I have the real dress hidden somewhere.
My heart flutters amidst nervousness with the realization that she had high expectations from me.
All of which you shattered, of course.
I shake my head, sending the negative voice back.
“This is the difference between you and me. I’m to assemble a prom collection in a month. But when my designers come up with this shit, where does that leave me?” Vanessa doesn’t scream at me like she did to the other designer on my first day, which I take as a good sign until her head jerks to Ann. “Get the papers.”
“Vanessa—” Ann is interrupted before I can even understand what papers they are talking about.
“No. Get me the papers.” She fixes him with her sharp gaze.
Ann leaves us while Vanessa continues to glare at the mannequin.
God, why is she still staring? Haven't we already established it’s shit?
“Please give me one more chance. I know I can do better.”
“Even a toddler can do better than this.” She snorts and walks back to her desk.
Ann returns and hands me a set of papers, stapled on the top left.
“What is this?” I skim through. “Probation period reduced to three weeks?” My hands freeze as I clutch the pages. “But m-my contract says I have three months’ probation.”
“Yes, and it also says I hold the right to modify it based on your performance. And looking at that, I must say you are lucky I’m not already asking you to pack your bags and leave.” Vanessa leans back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers. “You asked for a chance, this is it. Get me a dress that I can put in the prom collection, you stay. You can’t, don’t waste my time.”
“But—”
“Come on now.” Ann grabs my shoulders and leads me out of Vanessa’s office. When we reach the lobby, he says, “I’ve seen your work, Clementine. I know you can do it.”