Disclaimer: I own what's mine.


Rachel Getting Married?

Chapter. 1: This Christmas

I ran my hand through the rack of gorgeous, designer-made gowns with a glass of Chardonney in my other hand. The repertoire was in immaculate condition: steamed, pressed, sprayed (just slightly), and dusted. Even the sparkling showcase window was shinier and displayed more dresses made by Stella McCartney and Vera Wang than that of Kleinfeld store in Manhattan. I continued browsing through numerous dresses in various styles and sizes, ranging from mermaid, schiffon, princess-like, over-the-top-ball-gown, to commonplace strapless gowns. While I was sauntering down Aisle #3, I found one hell of a poofy dress. Out of mere curiosity, I pulled it out using both my arms (after putting my glass aside). This dress, indeed, fit right into my fourth category 'over-the-top-ball-gown' plus the tackiness and gratuitous ruffles running down from the waist line. It even had some plastic feathers possibly imported from China and Indonesia, manufactured by underaged workers. I scoffed at the dress and as I decided to put it back, I accidentally stepped on one of its extremely fragile ruffles, and left a noticeable hole near the bottom. Shit. I was going to be in big trouble. Instead of worrying too much, I put the gown back and went back to the changing room area.

It was late October and the changing rooms were fully occupied by anxious brides, and constantly disagreeing and yelling mothers. It was probably one of the busiest months for wedding dress stores as many brides were buying dresses for their upcoming weddings in December near Christmas (yes, procrastinating brides would buy their dresses two months before) and perfect June weddings. I was able to spot some pregnant brides as well, trying to fit into size four or six dresses. When the dresses didn't fit, they sobbed and bellowed at the consultants and alterers. Jesus christ, those are fucking wedding consultants, not your shrinks! I desperately needed more drink. Possibly tequila instead of this cheap, store-bought Chardonney.

I leaned against the cold wall, and waited patiently. I've read from "How to Be a Perfect Maid of Honor for Dummies" that I am supposed to provide solace and support to the bride. Maybe I should read her some of her favorite poems while cooking her chicken noodle soup from scratch. At least I'm trying. I glanced at my watch and it was already two. I've sacrificed by precious lunch time and I started drinking way before Happy Hour. This wasn't going to be good. By the time I was done with my fourth glass of Chardonney, the ravishing bride-to-be stood in front of me under the scintillating lights.

"So. What do you think?" Rachel asked. She absolutely looked stunning even with her hair in a tight, business-like ponytail. Her eggshell white dress really added more vibrant color to her skin (as it was more pale than her skin), and its simple, strapless design fitting into my fifth category showed her down-to-earth personality.

"I never knew you could actually look so gorgeous with your hair and make-up like that." I said. Rachel laughed (as she always laughs or pretends to laugh at my somewhat funny jokes) and walked around.

"Liv, I still can't believe it! I'm getting married next spring!" She exclaime. For once, I thought she started smoking dope or something. Her unnatural bubbly personality really got me thinking.

"Boo- I don't even know why you're buying the dress now. You could've waited until December. Until Boxing Day or something-"

"I'm getting ready early. Procrastinating is only fun when you're in college. Stop pouting and help me adjust the top part." She scolded. Rachel always had been the 'motherly' character. Perhaps, that's why I had to ask my friends to be her bridesmaids. Rachel even considered paying them (which was absolutely ludicrous), but instead, my cunning friends said they'd be fine with cute bridesmaid dresses, free liquor, and hot&loaded bachelor guests. Maybe they're not cunning and rather desperate.

"You should really alter this part right here," I said as I pinched the back part of the dress. "Or, put more padding for your small boobies." I giggled. Rachel elbowed me and told me to behave. I glanced back at my watch: two thirty. Oh boy, I'm in trouble.

"Olivia, I'm going out with Harvey this evening and do you want to join us?" She asked naively. Or on purpose, if she wanted to take away my fucking dignity and mess with my mind.

"Why the hell do you think I'm going to go out on a date with you guys? If you two want to have menage-a-trois or something, the third person has to be a stranger-"

"Liv! You're so inappropriate sometimes. Harvey and I aren't into those disgusting sexual acts."

"Not even S&M? Bondage? Roleplays?" I bet Rachel doesn't even know what S&M is.

"Okay, we don't engage in those sexual relationships." Bingo. God, I hate lawyers and the way they talk.

"No offense, your sex life sounds quite mundane and boring to me." I teased. Rachel was clearly offended and made that sound every girl makes when they're mad: combination of hissing noise and 'huh'.

"Sweetie, Harvey and I make love. Quite often, actually." Okay, that really disgusted me. Who makes love nowadays?

"Okay grandma, I'm glad you're living your fairytale life with Prince Charming. Now, I really have to go back to work." I put my Blackberry back in my purse and kissed her forehead.

"No, you told me you were going to look at bridesmaid dresses! Liv, you're not helping me out here!" She whined. I turned back and sighed.

"Look, I'm starving since I didn't have lunch. I don't live off of meatless and bland cobb salads every lunch. I'm already late for my meeting and your whining isn't helping." I raised my voice. Rachel's wedding consultant mouthed if everything was all right. I nodded and asked her to leave.

"Fine. But remember we have to go to that Halloween party I've told you about. Pick out a cute outfit and maybe you'll get someone to like you." She said.

"What party? I wasn't even invited-"

"I know, I did. I'm allowed to bring one guest, and I chose you! Aren't you so happy?"

"Boo- so excited. Who the hell is throwing that party anyway? If it's If it's Donald Trump, I'm in." I said. Rachel let out a dry laugh and adjusted her loose dress.

"Bruce is throwing the party. You know, Bruce Wayne? My old friend?" She said. I nodded as I've been heard soooo much about that douchebag. Her facial expression, however, was still mild and calm. I couldn't believe that she adored this guy.

"You mean, Tucker Max." That clearly wasn't a question. It was a statement.

"Who is Tucker Max? Is he like an actor?" I raised my brow and glared at my best friend. Even though she graduated first or second from Princeton and went to Harvard Law School, she was socially and real-life stupid.

"Tucker Max is that guy who drinks till he passes out and fucks anything with big boobs and long legs." I said.

"Ew, that is tasteless. Bruce is really nice once you get to meet him." She protested and smiled as she began to talk about her "Precious Bruce". It sickened me.

"I really don't have time for this. I'll see you later-"

"Don't forget the party! You have to come! And I mean it!" She yelled and I left.


I was never this pessimistic and cynical about my life before the incident. I grew up with Rachel and went to the same primary AND secondary school with her. Sure, we had those frenemy moments at least once a week, but other than that, we were inseparable until she decided to go to Princeton and I decided to stay in-state. I was never the brightest among the group; she was. I didn't know Victoria was the capital of British Columbia until Rachel lectured me about provinces of Canada for twenty minutes.

Despite her academic knowledge, she knew nothing about music, had no sense of fashion and humor, and always fell in love with overachievers like herself. It was almost like dating oneself. As we went our separate ways (but promised to call and email every weekend...which never happened) we became more distant. I soon lost my interest in school, and decided to spend my life savings to go to one of the top-notch fashion schools in Rhode Island. My divorcee mother was too busy drinking wine and crying, so she didn't care if I pursued my dream of becoming a designer. I've always wondered if she'd let me become a stripper if I wanted to. Really.

After graduating from the fashion school, I got to intern for Siena Cassell, a notable lingerie designer. The word 'lingerie' has that special French-like tone that makes every girl to own at least one. The idea of making something that could entice so many people, eventually intrigued me to further study the sub-field of fashion. Every lace used to make a nightgown or bras/panties had to be distinct, as it determined the shape and taste to them. The color also had a great impact on the final product, as colors such as cherry red, black, dark blue, and indigo were the most popular and men preferred them over yellow, baby blue, and white lingerie.

Even though I never got to work directly with Siena Cassell, I learned many techniques and put on some of my designs that received an 'OK' sign from Siena on emaciated models. After four years of having twenty-minute lunch breaks and receiving constant 'emergency' calls from my mentors, I put an end to my internship. Soon, I found myself jobless and that's when I found solace in Rachel. She had just graduated from Harvard with a degree in law, and was more than happy to help. Although she didn't help much (nothing besides encouraging text messages and calls), I got a call from Steve Macmillan.

I was more than ecstatic to start a new career under Steve Macmillan, even though he wasn't so prominent in the field. He told me that he was quite impressed with my designs and wanted to see more of them. I nodded and signed a piece of paper saying that I will work at least a year with this metrosexual mentor with exceptionally good hair. I was ready for a fresh start. I still work with Steve.


I was late. In fact, extremely late. In this industry, nobody could be fashionably late (what an irony). Ever. I got in the elevator and counted the numbers as it went up. I checked my watch: oh god, it was already three thirty. When the door opened at thirtieth floor, I jumped out and ran like Bolt until I was by Steve's office. I fixed my messy hair due to Gotham's heavy October wind, and my navy blouse. I cleared my throat, and walked in without knocking.

"I know, I know, I'm late. I'm terribly sorry-"

"It's all right, you're only-" He looked back at his Apple screen. "two and about half an hour late. Plus, your hair looks like Sarah Jessica-Parker's in Sex and the City. Totally messy. You need a brush." He quipped. I laughed at his reference and took a seat.

"So, what did I miss?" I asked. Come on, I had to seem at least engaged in this conversation to compensate for my tardiness.

"Excuse me? You owe me one for covering your ass during the board meeting. They wanted to know what our Christmas Edition was going to look like." He handed me last year's lookbook. I flipped through the pages until I saw half-naked girls in naughty santa outfits. First of all, Santa's aren't skinny, and these skinny bithes are ruining the image of plump, old Santas from Antarctica.

"Um, right I owe you one." I continued flipping. "Since when do we come up with new products for Christmas? It's been this sexy-santa-repertoire for ages." I said. Steve was obviously unhappy about my low motivation.

"Honey, that's why people buy their lingerie at Victoria's Secret. They come up with new stuff every Christmas! Now, what do you have in mind?" He desperately seeked for a solution.

"Perhaps Sexy-Christmas-Tree-Outfits? Would that be a turn-on? I like Christmas trees." I asked. I was expecting a loud laugh, but instead, he gave me a cold stare.

"That will only look good in girls with tree-trunk legs. We came up with snow angels though-"

"Too cliche."

"Fine. It's not like you can come up with better ideas." He mocked me and finished his warm Starbucks coffee.

"Steve-" I said. He sat up straight and cleared his throat. "What exactly is Christmas?" I asked.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" He asked and I shook my head.

"It's that time of the year, where people thank each other and help the needy. It's the time of appreciation and gratitude." I said. He still seemed perplexed.

"What are you suggesting?" His eyes showed that he was still interested in my suggestion.

"I would like to dedicate our 2010 Christmas Collection to that special person in Gotham who has contributed so much for our city and took no credit for his work." I said. Oh boy, he was still lost.

"You mean...Chris Taylor? That famous philanthropist who looks like Jack Johnson?" He asked timidly.

"No! Steve, I mean Batman!" I bellowed with excitement.

"Batman? Really?" He gave me his signature 'I'm-Not-Sure-About-That-Outfit' look.

"Yes. Batman. He has done so much for our city, and we never really appreaciated him. I would like to make a...hum, let's say Female Vigilante Collection. How about that?" Steve's eyes eventually lit up like red and green Christmas lights and he clapped his hands twice.

"Brilliant! It's new, fresh, and different. But, I have one tiny concern for your unconventional approach-" He paused. "What if the models for your collection end up looking like a bunch of dominatrixes?" He said. That's when I grabbed my empty stomach and laughed.

"I'll use more cotton and laces than leather and plastic." I reassured him.

"I'm good with that. Come up with sketches by next week or so?" I nodded and got up to head back to my office. "Oh, Olivia!" He called my name loud.

"Yes? Anything else to discuss?" I asked.

"Your skin needs some more glow."

"What are you trying to say?" I questioned him.

"You should have some sex. It's healthy and will bring back your glow. Go on a date, for god's sake." He complained. I rolled my eyes and left.

Aren't bosses excellent at giving love-life advice?


AN: Hi everyone! I know, I know this is new! I was inspired by many novels, and decided to make a story out of all the ideas I got from them. In this story, I don't think I'd follow the storyline of TDK and kind of do my own version of TDK or something.

I hope you liked the first chapter!

Please REVIEW AND SUBSCRIBE! REVIEW PLEASE! :D

HAPPY HOLIDAYS,

Jaime