Author's Notes: Well, this is a different kind of a story for me to write. I've been planning it for a few months now, but I haven't really had time to write much. I'll just warn you know that the updates will be few and slow. Chapter 1 is the prologue. Here's a little background for you: Andrea is 21 years old. She runs a new fashion company, and pretty much doesn't have a life except for her work. Here you go:
Chapter 1:
"Hey, Andrea!" I groaned and opened my eyes slowly, lifting my head up from my desk to see Becky standing in the doorway.
"Yeah?" I said with a yawn.
"Rough night?" Becky asked with a small laugh.
"Sure," I said. "I was up all night trying to get that shipment to Paris on time."
"You need a life, Andrea," she said, grinning at me.
"Yeah, well, if I had a life, than this company wouldn't survive."
"Just forget about the company for once! Get out there and meet some people. You know, you haven't had a boyfriend since Rob. And that was, what… two years ago now?"
I shook my head sadly. "Rob was a perfect example of why I shouldn't be seeing anyone." I paused. "What are we discussing this, anyway?"
She shrugged. "Oh, what I came in to tell you is the new purple silk is here."
I smiled. "Roger will be happy. If we start work tomorrow, we'll have those shirts finished by the beginning of next week."
"Wow, I'm surprised that you don't want to start production right now," Becky said.
"Nope," I said with a small grin. "I am going home at four o'clock sharp, going to pick up something to eat at that awful Chinese place a couple blocks down from my apartment, and then heading home and watching a movie with Kat."
Becky snorted. "Wow, eating crapy Chinese food and watching a movie with your cat sounds like loads of fun. What movie are you gonna watch?"
"I don't know," I said. "I was thinking about maybe watching The Patriot; I haven't seen that in a while."
"Ah, so watching a movie where basically everyone dies a horrible, bloody death is entertaining?"
I laughed. "Sure."
"Oh, and the second thing I came in for," Becky added quickly, "is can you give me a lift home? Fiona has me taking that huge file portfolio of the models home tonight, and I don't want to walk."
"Oh, suck it up," I said, giving her an exasperated look.
"I'll buy dinner."
"Done deal!" I laughed.
She smiled. "See you later, then," she said as she walked out of my office. I got up, closed the door, and sat back down at my desk to continue my nap.
111
"It's four o'clock!" came a sing-song voice from the hallway, and Becky appeared moments later. I gave her a smile and a quick thumbs-up, before turning my attention back to Annette, whom I was on the phone with.
"Hey, Annette, listen, I gotta go. Thanks again for that new shipment of belts. Alright. Chow." I hung the phone up, punched a few buttons on my computer, and shut it down for the night.
"I think this is a record for the earliest you've ever left the office," Becky said with a small smile.
I gave her a small punch on the shoulder. "Remember who's driving you home," I said, my tone one of fake warning.
"Remember who's buying you dinner."
I sighed, throwing an arm around her shoulder. "Fair enough, little sis," I said.
Really, if someone was looking at us for the first time, they'd never know we were sisters. Becky looked nothing like me at all, what with her pale blonde hair and light blue eyes, compared to me with my brilliantly red hair and dark green eyes. We had the same pale complexion, however, and that was about all that was similar. I was probably a good four inches taller than her, but you would never know, seeing as she was always wearing heals around the office.
Becky waved and called a few goodbyes to some of her clients in the parking lot as I unlocked my light yellow Mini-Cooper. I threw my bag into the back seat, while Becky clambered into the seat next to me, a large stack of files resting on her lap. "You set?" I asked as she closed the door.
"Aye, aye, captain!" she said mockingly, giving me a huge grin. I shook my head, and pulled the car out of its parking space, and out onto the road.
111
"Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot!" Becky said as she opened the car door twenty minutes later, balancing a stack of Chinese food containers in one arm. She dumped them on the dashboard and climbed back in, closing the door behind her.
"How much did you get?" I asked, eyeing the pile that she had just transferred to her lap.
"Not that much," she said defensively. "Not everyone can live off of a container of steamed dumplings like you can. We're not all robots here."
I snorted. "Neither am I."
Becky opened her mouth to retort, but was interrupted by my cell phone going off. "Oh, damn. Can you get that?" I asked. "It's in my bag back there."
She unbuckled and reached into the backseat. "It's Roger," she said.
"Answer it," I said, trying to keep my eyes on the road. This was becoming increasingly difficult, what with the tempting smell of dinner wafting throughout the car.
"Andrea's phone," Becky said, flipping open my phone. "Yes, this is Becky. She's right here." I could hear the noise of Roger squawking at Becky, but I was not able to form distinct words from the babble. "No, you can't talk to her; she's driving."
40 mph…
"What! Are you crazy?" I heard Becky say angrily. "That's totally unreasonable, Roger."
Mmmm… Steamed dumplings…
"Hang on a second," Becky said, covering the phone with her hand, and then removing it again before saying, "No, I'm not going to hang-up on you!" She covered the phone once more with her hand.
"What's he want?" I asked.
55 mph…
"He says he wants that new line of skirts in Milan for Friday."
"What?" I nearly screamed. "That's impossible."
"And he wants the runway models along with that," Becky added.
"There's no way in hell we can do that," I said, shaking my head. "It's not humanly possible."
65 mph…
"Well, what do I tell him?"
"Tell Roger he's got his head up his-"
"No! He'd fire me!" Becky shook her head, and started talking to Roger again. All I could think about was getting home at this point. I wanted to sit on my couch and fall asleep watching The Patriot, the cat on my lap.
I could still hear Roger chewing Becky's ear off. Damn, Jason Isaacs plays an insanely good bad guy… I mused idly.
"It's not possible!" Becky was yelling at Roger. "We don't have the time to do that, nor the models for that matter. We lost both Kristen and Claire this week alone!" There was a pause. "I don't give a fuck if D2 wants to feature us or not."
Sweet and Sour Pork…
"You know what?" Becky said angrily, "Andrea was right. You do have your fucking head lodged up your fucking ass, Roger." There was more babble from Roger.
75 mph…
"Becky, give me the phone," I barked, blowing out a breath in frustration. "Just give me the damn phone and let me talk to him." As I reached for the phone from Becky's outstretched hand, I dropped it. "Shit," I mumbled, reaching down to pick it back up again.
80 mph…
Then…
CRASH!