Pretty AF

Chapter 1

Lane

Looking out over downtown Las Vegas, I’m running the usual things around my head when my phone and computer ping simultaneously – my next meeting is about to start. I need to get this over with to purge my brain of everything it’s been holding onto, and Debra is the one I can rely on to deal with this.

The office door opens and in she steps, brandishing a laptop under her arm and a mug of tea that fills the room with its familiar aroma of peppermint. Her dark hair is tied back in a low ponytail that swishes as she walks. As always, she is dressed in her trademark black sleeveless shift, accessorized with nothing else but red lipstick.

“Afternoon, Debra.”

“Hi,” she says, settling into the chair opposite me and opening her laptop. “Sorry if I’m a little late, I just needed to take a call.”

I glance at the clock and smile to myself. 3:01 p.m.

“You’re fine,” I say, knowing how this would be getting to her. Debra is uber-punctual and efficient, so being even thirty seconds late to a meeting isn’t something she’d be happy with.

That’s why she’s one of my best. When you run a company, people like her are invaluable. Especially when that company is a fashion house and attention to detail is everything.

We get straight to business, settling into our usual routine. We know each other well after working together closely for the last two years. While she lays out sketches and prepares the documents on her laptop, I brew myself a coffee from my coffee bar.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” she says.

I know this, of course, but good manners cost nothing, and she is a valued employee. Also, despite the professional nature of our relationship, we are comfortable in each other’s company.

         “So, what do we think about the new line?” Debra asks, knowing this will doubtless mean I have some things to see about the business end.

         My mother is the artist of the family, but I’m the businessman. It can make for a dynamic partnership built on making the most of each other’s strengths, but also a difficult one at times. What matters to me are the numbers, and that’s not always how she likes to see it.

         “There are a few things,” I say, taking a look at the designs before me. “To start, there’s an issue with the fabrics for the shirts. We need to look at changing this for the silk. We’ve got that in bulk – I don’t know what my mother was thinking. It cost us enough.”

         “Yes, I did think the same,” she says. “I’ve already been to the warehouse, and they have given me a full inventory.”

         She looks up at me, and I can tell she’s wondering if she’s overstepped the mark, but I pay it no mind. In fact, I’m glad that she’s aware of how I like to do things and can predict what I’m going to say. Because that’s what this business is all about – prediction. We live seasons ahead. Years, even.

         “Also, the buttons need to be changed. They’re decorative, so we shouldn’t be paying top dollar for those. But you probably already know that, right?” I say, almost teasing her.

         “Well, I’m just here to do my job,” she replies, smiling back at me.

         “And I’m glad of it,” I answer, meaning every word. I may be at the top of the chain, but I rely just as hard on those below me as I do on my own business acumen.

         “And make sure we don’t use that supplier we used on the last order again. Their products were the height of tackiness.”

         “Sure,” she says. “Any preferences?”

         “We need to be looking for something that not only looks right but feels right. Get someone to look into that. We don’t want to be making a fool of ourselves and looking like Jabali now, do we?”

         She stifles a laugh, but I notice.

         “It’s true though,” I say, smiling now at my own bluntness. “If I were them, I wouldn’t even show my face for at least another two seasons.”

         “I know,” she says, smiling. “I mean, that boho dress they put out last year.”

         “That monstrosity,” I blurt out. “I’m not sure if their designers were blindfolded when they came up with that one. There’s boho, and then there are your grandmother’s curtains circa 1963.”

         Debra almost snorts at my disparaging comment. “It was pretty bad.”

         “Pretty bad? It was the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen!”

         “And those colors, too. We’d never make that kind of mistake – ever.” She has a look of pride on her face, despite the fact we’re trashing our rival, and I appreciate that.

         I smile, knowing this is true. Whatever the disagreements my mother and I may have sometimes, they are always cost-related and never about her designs. She may be a lot of things, but a great artist is one of them.

         “One hundred percent. That’s why we need to keep our standards high, as well as be mindful of our costs. My mother built this place from scratch. She’s the best designer out there, and in every collection we prove it.” Every collection, every line, every season, I feel this more and more.

         Grace Keller Designs started off small but popular. Now we occupy a significant percentage of the market and have one of the best reputations when it comes to our designs. Mom was always skilled, but with the knowledge I gained with my business management degree, we’ve built something we can be proud of.

         Not only that, but we did it by ourselves. It’s always been just the two of us, and that’s made for a very formidable team. “This line is going to be so good, we’re going to crush them,” I say, feeling the force of those words deep inside me.

         “I don’t doubt it,” she says. “Anything else about the new line?”

         “No, that’s it for now. Anything else comes up, I’ll let you know.” I park the new line and move on to the next area we need to cover.

         “People next,” I say. “We’ve got some shifting around to do, it seems. I need new people in my department. Sonia is due to go on maternity leave soon and obviously, Ryan is moving on as well.”

         “So, I’ve been looking into this, and we have a few options,” Debra informs me, and it doesn’t surprise me that she’s already one step ahead.

         “I want people who can really throw themselves behind the label. People who understand what we’re about and want to be a part of that.”

         “This is what I’ve got so far. So, we have Leon, who’s been doing okay. I mean, he’s a good worker and has potential – has a great eye for design – but he’s been late at least two days a week so far, and it’s not going down well.”

         “Tell him to straighten up or he’s out,” I say. “We’ve got no room for okay and certainly not for people who can’t even get their asses in on time.” If she’s right about him having a good eye, then I want to keep him. But talent in and of itself isn’t enough.

         “Will do. Then there’s Kate. To be honest, she’s great at what she does. She’s very competent and ticks all the right boxes.” She stops and looks at me.

         “I sense there’s a but.”

         “But, she rubs some people the wrong way. I’m not sure if that’s a confidence thing because she’s young and inexperienced, but it’s definitely something I’ve noticed.”

         Great.

         “There’s one other person worth mentioning.”

         “Good. Give me some good news, please?” I say dryly.

         “She’s fairly new. Her name’s Amani. She’s good. I mean, really good.”

         “Well, why didn’t you mention her first?” I ask.

         “I suppose because she’s not been here for long. But from what I’ve seen, she’s probably the best person for the job even though she’s the least experienced.”

         Amani. Nice name. I’m just about to ask more about this potential candidate when the door flies open.

         “Darling, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just had to speak to you. Hello, Debra,” my mother says, acknowledging my assistant.

         Debra greets her back, a small smile dressing her face. She is quite used to my mother by now and takes her dramatics in her stride.

         “This new line,” she says, marching up and down my office. “It has to be the best.”

         I lean back in my chair. “Isn’t that always the way we try to approach every new line?” I ask.

         “Yes, yes. But I mean this one has to be the best. I want everybody talking about it. And, more than anything I need it to show Jabali Fashion exactly how superior we are to them.”

         I understand her passion, I really do. We’re serious about our fashion house and have always strived to take each line to the next level. But added to that is the intense rivalry we have always had with Jabali.

         “We are working on it,” I say, trying not to get caught up in her dramatics, though I feel the same way and want to leave them for dust this next season.

“Just make sure we are,” she replies, her face serious. “It’s our name that I want on everyone’s lips. My name. Grace Keller Designs comes second to no one. Especially them.”