My right leg bounced up and down uncontrollably as my eyes darted to every corner in the room, stopping on the receptionist behind her desk. She seemed oblivious to the noise being emitted from my chest as she typed away at the computer in front of her and answered calls. The sound of my heart beating rapidly filled my ears to the point it was the only thing I could hear. Gripping the soft leather couch I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm my out of control nerves. It was a failed attempt because once I reopened my eyes I could still feel the emotion coursing through my body. How could someone I didnât personally know have such an effect on me?
 Mrs. Elise Danridge was a hot commodity in the fashion world and I was blessed to have this meeting with her today. I had only heard things about Mrs. Danridge, but her work was something I was very familiar with. It was only right since she was one of my many fashion inspirations. Elise had entered the industry at the tender age of seventeen and had completely dominated the 70âs fashion era. She had stuck to what was trending as well coming up with her own lucrative designs. 40 years later she was still on top of her game with a multimillion dollar company underneath her belt. I aspired to be her. Scratch that, I aspired to be better than her. If things went well Iâd either have an investment to open my business or Iâd have a mentor. Neither of those options sounded bad. I was just hoping things played out well.
 Frankly I didnât even know how I had managed to land a meeting with Mrs. Danridge. I had been trying to schedule a meeting with her for months to no avail, but that all changed a couple days ago when I had received a call confirming a meeting with her today. My collected manner hadnât given away my shock, but once I got off the phone I was like some hyperactive kid jumping around my condo. I wasnât sure who had helped me out, but I was thankful. I figured it was Michael since he had helped Alexis with her career goals not too long ago. His numerous connections had landed her a fashion director gig for a major fashion house, so I just figured it was him. Besides I didnât know many people with enough connections to secure a meeting with Elise herself. Iâd have to thank Michael once I got back to work.
 Digging through my Michael Kors tote I pulled out my compact mirror and quickly examined my face. I had stuck to more natural colors for my makeup not wanting to overdo it. I wanted to stand out, but I wanted my designs to do that more than my looks. My hair was center parted with drop curls giving my face a youthful glow. Satisfied with my appearance I closed the mirror and dropped it back into my bag when the receptionist caught my attention.
 âExcuse me; Ms. Danridge will see you now.â
 Getting up from my current position I smoothed out my black Fendi dress as my nerves seemed to come back full force. Gathering my things I placed my tote on my arm along with my trench coat over as I tried my best to stride into her office with confidence leaking from my pores. My current ensemble oozed professionalism, yet it was still fashionable.
 The clicking of my heels ceased as my feet hit the carpeted floor. The view outside of the floor to ceiling windows instantly captured my attention as Mrs. Danridgeâs voice filled the air. I was instantly greeted with the back of her office chair as she seemed to be wrapping up a conversation with what I deemed a colleague. Sitting in the chair I placed my bag and jacket alongside my feet. Time seemed to slow down as the chair turned so she could face me. I was now face to face with the one and only Elise Danridge. Leaning forward she placed her elbows on top of the desk as her fingers tapped against one another. I swore a brief smile appeared on her face, but just as quickly as it appeared it was disappeared.
 "Renee Atwood. Iâm a big fa-"
 "Are you here for an internship? If so they sent you to the wrong office."
 'Internship? What?' I chuckled nervously as the realization set in.
 "Oh no! You have me mistaken. Iâm an up and coming fashion designer looking for potential investors or even a mentor."
 A few seconds passed before she spoke up. âWell are you going to sit there or are you going to give me your portfolio.â
 Retrieving a binder from my tote I handed it to her. I nervously watched her flip through my fashion portfolio compromised of something I had dedicated my life to. There were hand drawn sketches, computer drawn designs, concept pages, possible logo designs, and a recent copy of my rÊsumÊ. I even had a few photos of Trey in there from when I did an exceptional job of styling him. I figured it would show my eye for trends. The flipping of pages abruptly stopped and my portfolio was now in my hands.
 "Thank you for your time." Her tone was dismissive.
 "Iâm sorry, but I donât understand." Confusion laced my tone.
 "Iâm not interested in what youâre selling. Your designs didnât stand out instead they did absolutely nothing for me. Simply put theyâre nothing special. Iâve been in this industry a long time and I donât think you have that wow factor thatâs needed. Your designs at best are cute. No women your age or mine wants to be cute. Maybe you should consider an internship here and maybe you could learn a thing or two. As for a mentor you definitely need one, but I canât be of assistance in that department either."
 My skin got hot as a bunch of emotions hit me at once. I was embarrassed, yet thankful no one was here to witness her verbal onslaught. My heart was hurt. Who was she to tell me I was no good at something I had been taking interest in since I was a little girl? I get that she was the professional, but did she have to crush the only dream I had? Without fashion I had nothing. Most of all I was angry. Elise Danridge was nothing but a bitch. Her attitude was disgustingly atrocious.
 Tears stung the brims of my eyes causing everything to look like one big blur as I quickly exited her office with what little dignity I had left. My feet went as fast as my black Giuseppe Zanotti pumps would allow. Flying through the glass doors of the receptionist area I briskly made my way down the hallway. I could feel pains going through my stomach as my mouth began to salivate. My left hand clutched my stomach as my right hand flew in front of my mouth.
 Hastily entering the bathroom I heard a women grumble, but I had no time to pay her any mind as I made my way into the nearest available stall. My belongings along with my body found its way to the marble floor as the contents of my breakfast from hours ago made its way back up. The acidic content burned the back of my throat, as I drained the contents of my stomach I could feel what little dignity I had left leave with it.
 A couple minutes later my stomach now felt empty as I sat with my back against the stall door. My left hand wiped the tears that still managed to slip from my eyes as I retrieved my iPhone from my tote. Quickly dialing a number I knew by heart I waited to hear the voice on the other line.
 "Hey, boo." Her warm greeting made me feel worse causing an ugly sob to escape from my lips.
 "Renee, why are you crying? Whatâs wrong?" Aliciaâs voice was full of concern.
 "She hates me." I barely managed to choke out.
 "Two West 13th Street."
 With that being said the line disconnected and my best friend was on her way to the rescue me.
 Alicia had come and found me in the bathroom looking like one big mess. Instead of hounding me for being unhygienic and sitting on the public bathroom floor she quickly fixed my face and got us out of that dreaded place. We were now driving around in her Mercedes Benz. She waited until I had gotten comfortable to ask me about the Elise situation. I surprised myself as I was able to reiterate the story to Alicia without bawling. I could tell my best friend was upset. Her skin was now a nice shade of red instead of its usual mocha complexion.
 "Fuck that bitch! She ainât shit and sheâs lucky I wasnât there to slap the shit out of her for talking reckless to you. Youâre talented and anyone with eyes could see that. People would kill to have your natural artistic ability and fashion sense. That old hag is jealous. She sees the potential in you and knows youâre a threat so instead of encouraging you she decided to be all nasty. Donât worry though she got another thing coming to her ass. Trust me, she donât even know it."
 The words of my best friend caused a smile to take over my face for the first time all day. Alicia always knew what to say to cheer me up ever since we were younger. We had been best friends for the past fourteen years: meeting when my family moved from Houston to New York City. Upon meeting Alicia for the first time I hated her because of her smart ass mouth, but that was one of the things I grew to love about her. Who knew that smart ass mouth of hers would be one of the things I grew to love about her?
 "If I had some connects in the fashion world Iâd hook you up, but no one cares about looks. They just want to know how many cases theyâre winning."
 "Thanks boo. I appreciate the sentiment."
 Hearing my phone ring I fished it out my tote: looking at the caller ID. A scoff left my lips before I begrudgingly accepted the call. Placing the device to my ear I spoke up.
 "What do you want?" Venom laced my tone as I pondered why he was calling my phone.
 "Whoa. Calm down. Iâm just calling to find out how your meeting with Elise went."
 Removing the device from my ear I looked at it as if it had sprouted a head. How did Jordan know I had that meeting today? We hadnât talked in about two months and for good reasons. Once our relationship ended I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. I hadnât bothered to change my number, but I was slowly regretting that decision.
 "Howâd you even know about that?  You are aware stalking is a crime, right?â
 He chuckled but I didnât see anything funny right now. âI still see you got that sense of humor. I did a photo shoot a while back with a model who had connections and I had her put you on to Elise.â
 The line went silent as my mind went into overdrive. âSo he was responsible for my roller coaster ride this morning.â Jordan was a photojournalist for the New York Times and in his free time he loved to do photo shoots which would explain his Elise connection. The one question I was unable to answer was why. What was his purpose in setting this meeting up?
 âRenee, I still lo-â
 "Jordan donât! Just answer the question." My voice was stern.
 "I know how much fashion means to you and how much you want it." A sneer left my lips.
 "Youâre so full of shit Jordan. You werenât doing this for me; you were doing it for you. You figured Iâd get in good with Elise and then youâd admit to what you did and Iâd come running back to you. Well you were dead wrong and because of you and her Iâm giving up and calling it quits. Now I have another mess in my life that I can thank you for. Are you happy now?"
 "Yeah thatâs all you ever are and all its all youâre ever gonna be. Just remember sorry doesnât fix anything: not my broken heart and not your selfish ways. Donât call me again. "
 Having enough of this conversation I hung my phone up. At this moment in time I knew God was testing my emotions and I was failing miserably.
 Alicia and I had gone out to get lunch and she practically had to force me to eat. My stomach still felt like shit, but I managed to take a few bites of food to appease her. While we were out having lunch, Michael had called me asking about Treyâs whereabouts. He sounded upset which meant Trey had probably been MIA for a while. I wasnât even aware he had left, but I decided to make an effort and find him. Calling his phone only led me to his voice mail. I already knew Michael was going to be pissed if Trey didnât return soon, especially since he had a signing in about an hour. Placing my things down on the couch I plopped down. My body was mentally and physically exhausted. At this point all I wanted to do was go home, have a few drinks and sleep. Was that too much to ask for? Apparently so. The door to the dressing room opened and in waltzed Trey as if he didnât have people waiting on him.
 My jaw dropped as I took in his attire. His white shirt held a huge orange stain and his pants appeared to have some kind of liqu. I got ready to grill him with questions, but Michael walked in the room stopping me. He took once glance at Trey and instead of lashing out like I thought he would he simply pointed in my direction.
 "Renee, get the backup clothes and fix him.â I nodded.
 âFix me? Câmon Michael, Sloane was-â
 âI donât care if Sloane cut your balls off. Get dressed now!â
 With that being said Michael exited the room. I kept my lips sealed in an attempt to not laugh. Michael was about business and he didnât like when people interfered with that. I could respect it.
 "Go jump in the shower. You have ten minutes. Any longer than that and I will personally come and drag you out myself."
 "In that case I might just stay in there a while." He winked as he headed to the attached bathroom.
 This was nothing new for Trey and I. He was a flirty guy which made work interesting at times. Hearing the water start running I glanced at the clock in the room mentally starting a countdown. Walking over to a rack full of garment bags I went through several as I tried to choose a new outfit for Trey. Once I was satisfied with the choices I picked out I separated them from the other bags. Taking a few steps I stood in front of the bathroom door. I got ready to knock, but Trey opened the door only clad in a towel from the waist down. I remembered when I first started as the stylist assistant I would drool over seeing Trey half naked, but now I had learned to contain myself and enjoy the view without making it noticeable. He handed me his ruined clothing as I handed over three garment bags. He returned to the bathroom as I sat in the couch and examined the shirt. Trey had a lot of explaining to do.
 Trey emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later and I threw the stained shirt at him.
 "You better pray to God thatâll come out of that shirt. What the hell is it anyways?"
 "Spaghetti. Sloane and I kind of got into it." My face scrunched up in disgust.
 "I didnât realize you were into food in the bedroom Trey, spaghetti at that." I said jokingly.
 He chuckled. âYouâre funny, but we actually got into a fight.â
 "Iâm sorry, but that doesnât change the fact you need to be more responsible. What if I borrowed this piece from a designer? Iâd have to explain that: not you." I scolded.
 "Youâre right. Iâll be careful next time." His hands crept to the back of his neck. Looking at him I could tell he was a little down about whatever occurred between Sloane and him.
 "Wanna talk about it?" I asked.
 "Nah. You alright though?" His eyes glanced over me and stayed on my face.
 "Your eyes are puffy and a little red. You donât have that something about you thatâs always there."
 "Sir, why are you watching me?"
 Giving me a shrug of his shoulders he spoke up. âNot really watching. Just observing.â
 Finally deciding to do my job, I scanned Treys outfit. He had on a beige long sleeve shirt along with some distressed jeans. He looked good, but something was missing. Walking over to him I pondered for a second before hiking the sleeves up to his elbows. That added to his sexiness but something still felt off to me. I exited the room to return a few seconds later with a beige vest in hand. I handed it to him as he threw it on. His look was now complete.
 âYou look damn good.â
 "You want a picture?" He asked as he struck a stupid pose. I chuckled at his antics before Eliseâs words played in my head.
 "Not today Trey." âOr ever.â
