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“Aunt Sally, bring some water!”
“Thank you.”
“It’s Monday.”
“Pardon?”
“There are tons of tasks on Monday. I can help you. If you want, of course.”
The girl handed the planner over to its rightful owner.
Rose nodded and sat back down.
They spent the whole day driving around various joints, markets, and shabby offices. The glamorous star turned out to be the owner of a cheap restaurant chain and commodity stores. Poverty-stricken parts of the city, back-breaking labor, and unpresentable public provided money for the beautiful life everyone saw on Instagram. Behind every Chanel bag or Celine dress there was day-to-day work with suppliers, staff, and consumers. Dina worked like crazy. With her sleeves rolled up high, she had her finger on the pulse of a huge enterprise.
What she showed on social networks was another part of her personality. This life consisted of five-star hotels and fancy boutiques, endless shopping, impressive parties with expensive champagne and beautiful people. There was no room for any flaws, sadness, or failure. The two parallel realities were completely separate and could never intersect, but they both had the same goal – money. Dina used every opportunity to increase her income, tirelessly adapting to the demands of the great Kingdom of Consumption. Ella – that was the blonde girl’s name – had once been a part of both worlds, a faithful assistant, a companion, but something forced her to leave and fall off the radar for a long time. Today she returned, albeit secretly. No questions asked, Rose followed the girl everywhere and tried to retain at least something in her memory.
“Do you need a ride?” Ella was scribbling in Rose’s planner, adding new tasks and crossing out what had already been done.
“It would be nice, thank you! And thanks for the help!”
“Get enough sleep. There’ll be even more to do tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at ten.”
“Even more? Is it always like this?”
“What the hell did you expect? An endless extravaganza? You’d better get used to it, sis.”
That last block before her house, Rose decided to go on foot. She was rehearsing her speech for Paul, counting the pros on her fingers, finding excuses for cons. The air in the corridor was close and heavy with the smell of pizza and beer. The sofa creaked – must’ve been an old spring – and then came a lazy shuffle of footsteps. It was approaching the deceptress who was ready to come clean.
“Where have you been?” Paul was holding an unfinished beer can.
“I’ve got a new job.” Rose didn’t look him in the eyes and refused to approach him, as if he was no husband of hers but a scalding hot pan.
“Are you kidding?”
“No. They pay almost twice as much.” Rose pulled out her trump card which was the only trump card up her sleeve so far.
“What’s the company? And position?” A shadow passed over Paul’s face.
“I’ll be an assistant to a famous blogger. Her name’s Dina. You’ve probably heard of her.”
Pause.
“Are you mad? Running errands for an Internet whore?”
“She’s not… She owns a restaurant chain and a chain of stores, she’s a serious businesswoman. This is a great opportunity!”
“Why on Earth do you need it?”
“I can travel with her – to Europe, or Japan, or the US, anywhere! There’s insurance, social benefits, overtime paycheck… Everything is paid for. We do need some money, after all. That’s why.”
“You’ve never even left the city, and now you want to see half the world at once! Isn’t it a bit too much? Besides, what kind of fool would pay for all this? She’s lying!”
“How can you be so sure?”
“It’s just too good to be true. She’s gonna kick you out or set you up. And in the office, they’ll quickly find a replacement. You will lose your job, mind you.”
“Dina is a business owner. You should see the scale! Why would she want to set me up?”
“Why? Because there are no miracles! One cannot just get paid handsomely for nothing!”
For the second time that day, Rose cried on the cold bathroom floor. Alone, without any support or a cup of warm tea. Her inner voice got louder and louder until, by midnight, it burst into a scream. Torn into a thousand pieces, she made a choice.
Chapter 4
Rose grabbed some random clothes, put them on, and ran out on a crowded street, hungry but determined.
“Where to?” The taxi driver lit a cigarette and threw the lighter into an empty coffee cup.
“Here.”
The man entered Dina’s address into the navigator and a puff of cigarette smoke filled the interior of the car.
Holding her planner in her hands like a shield, Rose slipped through the unlocked door and sat down on the edge of the living room sofa.
The air was heavy and seemed to be crackling with electricity. Dina was pacing the room, making notes in the margins of her own planner, and giving assignments in a metallic voice. Rose sat motionless, while her left hand seemed to have a mind of its own and was automatically writing down the boss’s words. When she was done, Dina took her cup from the table and pressed it with her thin fingers. She cast a sidelong glance at the brown cup ring and, at last, looked at her assistant.
“We’re going to Paris.”
Rose left the apartment just as quietly as she had entered it, and ran down the stairs – Ella must have been waiting for her. However, when she got to a tiny coffee shop with only three tables, Rose didn’t see the girl. Tapping her foot nervously, Rose frantically dialed Ella’s number. Her heart sank into her boots.
She dumped me! Dumped me! But she’d promised – I should’ve gone to the office! I’m such an idiot! Swallowing her tears, Rose pressed the call button again and again.
“Stop calling me. I’m in the chamber of secrets.”
“Ella! Ella, hi! Where are you?”
“In the restroom. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Sorry, I just – » Rose forced a laugh in response to the short beeps.
“You alright?” Vintage jeans, Aquazzura heels, smile on her face – Ella plopped down opposite her.
Pablo Escobar, coffee beans, and Aquazzura – that’s all Rose knew about Colombia. She also had quite a vague notion of real friendship. All her relationships with people centered around mutually beneficial interactions or certain obligations. I give you cheat sheets, and you help me write a paper. I don’t mention your truancy, and you keep my report mistakes to yourself. Was Rose cold and calculating? Oh no. She was just a product of her world.
“Care for some champagne?” Ella waved at the waiter.
“It’s ten in the morning!”
“So what?”
“You’re driving!”
“So what?”
“There’s a lot of work!”
“So what?”
“Oh well, fair enough.”
“Wanna share?” Ella took a sip from the slim glass.
“Share what?”
“How did you end up in my… in this place?”
“Dina called me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Go ahead.”
“I am quite versed in style and fashion.”
“Are you?!”
“I’m – I don’t know.” Rose turned uncomfortably red – as red as a lonely tomato slice on a huge pizza.
“Alright, Miss Fashion. Come on! I’m pretty sure you’ll like it there.”
Ella couldn’t find a parking space, so she parked the car on the lawn by a flower bed. She slammed the door shut and strode towards a strange-looking glass building: It had an irregular triangle shape. “Move it, Rose! We’re an hour late!”
“Are you kidding me?!”
“The fitting was scheduled for ten thirty.”
“No, I meant – Are you sure this is the place?”
“Oh, so you know what it is?” An ironic smile flickered across the girl’s face.”
Rose did know. Two years ago, she’d spent hours by the window of the new fashion house, her eyes glued to a single dress. Rose had googled its creator – an unheard-of designer – and scoured the few photographs. She was dying to get into the studio, see other masterpieces, and get to know the designers, but that wasn’t her world. It was a princess world – the place for the beautiful and confident. And now, as she stood by the entrance, shivers went down her spine.
“You look odd. Is everything alright?”
“I – I saw their profile on Instagram,” Rose lied.
Inside, there was a huge room with white sofas. Ella immediately sat down and began flipping through a magazine, feet up on a low coffee table with geometric legs. Rose wasted no time and explored the interior.
“So handsome! Ella, did you see him? The designer himself is in the picture. The 20s, flappers. Did you see?! He’s so good-looking! And this dress! I wonder if it has a name.”
“The name’s Zelda, in honor of Scott Fitzgerald’s wife. She was one of the most prominent figures of that time,” answered a male voice.
Poor Rose, her face flushed with embarrassment, turned around. She felt like moving in slow motion.
“I’m Ed.” Ed Mann, the designer, extended his hand for a handshake.
“Rose.”
“You are here to see me, aren’t you?”
“I’m here for the fitting on behalf of Dina.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Well, if it’s a scarf or a hat of some sort.” Rose gave a short laugh.
“Right. Where is Dina? Today is the last test.”
“She couldn’t come, but don’t you worry about Paris. Hi! By the way, this is Rose, the new assistant.” Ella came up to them just in time.
“But I told her!” A shadow ran across the designer’s face, making him look ten years older.
“I can make up for her absence. You know we have the same size!”
“Fine. But Dina should know when her turn is.” For the first time, Ed smiled.
Huge screens instead of walls – futuristic waves of colors to dazzle the audience. The show was opened by a model from as far away as Nairobi. She was wearing a dress in the colors of a summertime savannah. Then there was a live broadcast with girls from Australia, Fiji, and France. Ella in a sky-blue outfit closed the show. It was impressive how different continents were involved – a potpourri of emotion and reality. Rose stood in an unbreathing astonishment, afraid of disturbing the perfect harmony. She was the most grateful spectator, drowning in the master’s creation, noticing every single detail, following the great design.
The sun, exhausted, had already hidden behind skyscrapers when the tiny car with two women inside arrived at Dina’s house.
“How was your day?” Aunt Sally, puffing, poured them some tea.
“OK,” Ella said.
“It was fine,” Rose mumbled.
“How did everything go?” Aunt Sally kept trying to get the girls talking.
“We went to Ed Mann’s! The man’s a genius!” Rose began to liven up after dinner.
“Not much of a genius. I have to go.” Ella quickly got to her feet, ready to leave.
“What’s her problem?” Rose whispered, but Aunt Sally only shrugged. “You know Ed?”
“I do.”
