Know Me
She smiles when they walk in. She smiles when they demand that she find them something. She smiles when they refuse her choice that would match their style and skin tone nicely because it's not luxury. She smiles, apologizes and says she'll certainly get something in. The client leaves with a pout saying she'll be back
"Shea." She calls to her assistant. The brunette looks her way. "I'll be gone for the rest of the day. Keep an eye on the store for me, would you dear."
"Got it boss!" The brunette smiles back excitement filling her eyes. Shea is happy to watch over the store and help out the celebrities.
Her smile is plastered on from morning to night but it hasn't reached her eyes in some time. No one seems to notice that the queen of couture's passionate flame is dying out.
And it's taking her with it.
)O(
She stars blankly at the colorful shirt as the woman talks about it. Why was she even there at Mint Sprinkle? She didn't sell pop clothing; well not anymore. Originally she did but now she had moved on to Zade and other expensive brands; the things her clients wanted. The things the models and superstars wanted. They walked in with their high demands and just as high budgets. To make ends meet she had to weed out the unpopular, the last season and lower class clothes.
Still something about the pop shirt speaks to her. It called back to a simpler time when not everybody in the city knew her face, knew her brand, when she was playing games with her assistant because the store was so dead. Maybe it reminded her of the little café that she had settled down every day before opening the store before it was crowded with people wanting to see her. Or the times she had to talk Jill down from doing something over the top because of Joe. Something about the loud colorful clothes were calling to her but she can't shop for what she wants anymore. She has clients to take care of.
"Actually I think I'll pass on this." Her gaze turns landing on the funky colored clothes. "Sorry." She adds putting the shirt down.
And for once, in what seems to be lifetime she truly means it.
)O(
She looks down at the shoes in hand then up at her empty foyer. The silence balls up in her chest only to ebb through the darkened rooms broken by the hum of electricity. That's right. That's why she spent most of her nights at hotel parties or downtown wandering around. Dropping the several hundred dollar shoes to the ground she walks bare foot towards her living room. Covering the long distance in only a few quick strides the boutique manger turns on the little retro radio that stood out amongst the modern decor. The wandering mouth of a DJ overtakes the silence and the stiffness in her back lessens.
With a quite sigh she heads towards the bathroom stripping from the expensive clothes that cost her nothing leaving them on the floor without a second glance. Once tanned skin had become a pearl white; a lovely tone for a shop worker in fashion. She hated it. She turns on the shower adjusting it. While the water heated; slowly filling the room with steam she turns to look at the mirror. Layers of expensive make up coats her face making it look like it was supposed to. Her plump red lips twisted into a sneer at her reflection. She scrubs her face as clean as the makeup would allow. She touches her face slowly. She has freckles? Had she always had freckles?
The last piece of clothing was her hat. Expensive as the rest and hiding just as much. Pulling it away her hair fell limp and lifeless around her face. How many times had she dyed it this month? Bleached it? Highlighted it? Just to stay up on what was best. How had her world turned to fashion, just fashion? Gazing at the woman staring back at her from the mirror She blinked her wrong colored eyes. When had she started to wear contacts?
Starting to take out the first one she opens the medicine cabinet and is faced with the amounts of makeup kits she bought to keep up. Her brow furrows and before she knows it her hands are buried in the powders and glosses throwing them to the floor. Contact containers skid across the floor as a scream bubbles up in her throat. Her manicured nails clutch at the porcelain sink as tears burn from her eyes and she screams again.
Who is she anymore?
)O(
When the doorbell rings she finds herself on the floor curled into herself pulling at her hair. Sniffing she stands and peeks out at the front door. The bell rings again as the darkened living room just glares at her. Grabbing an old t-shirt dress from Stagedive she carefully walks towards the door. No one ever comes to her door this late, not anymore. She considers hiding back in the bathroom until it rings a third time followed by a voice.
"Gina…" The name from the past stops her in her escape plan. No one calls her that. It's boss or the owner of Steel, or the one who one the contest. They call her a stylist and artist and so many others but not Gina. Never Gina. "…you home?" She reaches for the door.
She has to know who it is that knows who she is.
)O(
He wasn't sure why he had stopped at the shipping company on his way to her apartment maybe he just felt strange showing up at her door without a box or maybe it was excuse to get in her door, he wasn't sure. It really didn't matter. After he saw her last interview he knew he had to help her. Even if she was smiling it never went to her eyes. Her wrong colored eyes with make up trying to cover up the bags and appearing bones. She was thinning and fading he could tell. Her interviews were short and vague. Her pictures seemed almost lifeless and the glow he had loved to see in her eyes when she talked about her passion was gone. He smiled when the door opened to the face he has missed for nearly a year.
"I have a delivery from the Buyer's Center." He said just like he used to.
"Brad?" Comes the shy voice he once knew as strong and vibrant.
He laughed hiding his pain behind it. "Of course." He gave her a playful smile. "Gina, who else would deliv…"
His comment was cut off as a smaller body slammed into him causing him to lose the boxes. Too thin arms wrapped around his waist and a face was buried into his chest. Looking down he could see the top of her head but what bothered him was the shivering she was doing. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close as she cried.
"You know who I am!" She cried out holding him tighter as if he would disappear.
"Of course I do." Brad said softly petting her damaged hair. He had wanted this closeness since he made the first delivery to her apartment but now it felt wrong because she was broken, because he wasn't there to stop it. He leaned forward and kissed thinning skin, damaged hair before leading her back inside her apartment. "I'll always know who you are, Gina." She looked up at him and smiled her first real smile in along time.
A/N: Well this is what happens when I'm supposed to be working on a reflective assignment about writing for class. I get distracted by short stories and little plot bunnies in the back of my head. Stupid rabbits. Oh well so Tell me what you think. Good, bad or did we cross into the ugly category. Leave a review and let me know. Thanks everyone.