Alonso remembered when the decline began. It all started with a designer's idle pen.
Alonso had known Anita Campbell-Green to be an early bird. She was often the first designer at her desk in the mornings. There didn't seem anything unusual or striking about that particular day thus far. Alonso was stationed at the neighboring designers table; helping to count and sort an inventory of buttons. He had been sent to the office early, having left tea and coffee for Cruella DeVil and her girl of the moment. He was happy to be at the office. During his work he saw Anita pull out two photographs from her purse. From that distance he could see they were pictures of a Dalmatian. He saw Anita's eyes look over two sketches she had completed but yet to have filled in with the chosen print. Than with a smile she pushed aside the inspirational photos of stripes assembled by the design team. Like a child doodling with crayons she rested her head on her arm and began to sketch. Without as much as a word, Alonso knew she was simply creating for her own sake. Alonso could see the genuine pleasure she took in the work and the chuckle of delight when she saw part of the print completed. Alonso set down the box of buttons; the phone was beginning to ring incessantly.
A whirlwind of activity later he found himself in Cruella DeVil's office. Anita was seated across from her with the Dalmatian print fashion rendering between them. Alonso could hear their conversation from his place beside the door. Cruella DeVil had never questioned Anita in such a manner and it struck Alonso as curious; much of the things she had pointed out were facets of Anita's character made clear to her before. There was something tactical in this but Alonso couldn't figure out what. Though Alonso had an obvious advantage over most humanity, much of Cruella's behavior was still a mystery to him even after almost a year and a half.
When Anita was dismissed from the office, Alonso could see Cruella DeVil begin to pace in front of her desk. Alonso watched cautiously. Cruella DeVil composed herself from her outburst of laugher. Alonso was surprised by how much enjoyment she had taken out of the notion of making coats with prints similar to dog skins. Humble domestic dogs seemed the complete opposite to the animals celebrated in the fur trade. Keeping to his corner next to her chaise he was surprised when she began to speak sotto-voce;
"To think, from my sweet, simple Anita!" Cruella said. A rush of excitement overpowered her. With girlish delight, she set the cigarette down and clasped her shimmering, gloved hands in front of her mouth.
"Alonso," Cruella DeVil addressed him. He came scurrying towards her and stopped at the edge of her desk. "Is it true?" She said, staring into his eyes.
"Www…what true, madam?" He asked.
"That she has no 'prospects'?" Cruella said, her eyebrow rising to heighten her inquiry, "You are at the center of everything here I trust you would know something of the lives of my designers."
Alonso had never been solicited for such information, least of all from Cruella DeVil. Looking at Cruella, Alonso's mind like a linguist assembling a broken language recalled moments between Cruella DeVil and Anita Campbell Green.
Suddenly he was overcome with the desire to encourage his own intuition. What was the reason for Cruella DeVil's interest in the private life of Anita Campbell- Green?
There had to be something
Looking back, Alonso recalled how after the unanimously successful reception of Anita's first design for the Chesterton Trials in the press, Cruella DeVil assigned her to the event permanently. Time had passed of course, work resumed, but little by little Anita Campbell Green began to make a silent ascension in the rank of the designers. She was moved to a closer desk. Cruella's invitations to private dinner parties were made, even though declined. Cruella DeVil was not one for compliments or displays of affection amongst spectators, and Alonso could scarce imagine Cruella DeVil having a heart for anything but her collections.
Or?
It was entirely possible, Alonso contemplated.
There was always a look Alonso had caught; he saw it on his first day when Cruella stood modeling on the runway in Anita's gown. A coquettish smile had perpetually reappeared within her eyes whenever Anita was in her line of sight. She was less stern with her in their dealings, more inclined to make jest of a comment that would otherwise be delivered with venom to any other designer. They must not have spoken more than two to three words to each other each day. Alonso caught his own thoughts meandering and laughed at himself inwardly.
It wasn't possible.
That very morning, and the several others he had been witness too, supported this. To Cruella DeVil, sex was sex, nothing more. Nothing near any resemblance of genuine love ever interrupted her status quo. There was always an aloofness Cruella DeVil practiced over those short, uncomfortable breakfasts. He only counted two men thus far in her conquests, proving her tastes were undoubtedly partial to women. There was a singular exception in her life which Alonso had been forced to contend with. He had since learned after the first visit to number 7 Highgate Square, Gabriel (or Gabe as she often teased) had shared a past with Lenora DeVille which reached far beyond regular business transactions. He knew as much from the first encounter. Two or three times in the months that followed she would visit at other locations across the city, or the last, he had arrived at her doorstep with no other safe haven from the authorities who stalked the locations of his illegal activities with growing intensity. Despite her balking at his intrusion it was a mere hours before Alonso had passed the hall to find her door locked and his company at breakfast the next morning. The other rare male species was an advertising salesman who was head of her recent campaign. That man, Alonso recalled, was relentless; their chemistry indisputable even to themselves. Their battle of words had given out on the day of his last pitch in her office. The memory flashed behind Alonso's eyes. He was no longer shocked by it. Cruella DeVil was, in every sense, a predator, and only when she found another person, man or woman, with the same lust for dominance did she cater to her baser instincts.
Looking back, while giving up his hope of ever truly loving Cruella DeVil the way he wished, it had yet to deter him from serving her with the entirety of his own standards of devotion.
But this protective interest in Anita Campbell-Green was something unfamiliar to Alonso's knowledge of Cruella DeVil's character.
Alonso, who had learned to read Cruella DeVil's expressions so thoroughly from his own desire of understanding, could barely fathom the existence of the wall which evident through their simple exchange was collapsing before him. He felt ashamed of himself. Alonso, who wanted as the sole fulfillment of his own affection for Cruella DeVil to share in the confidences of her life, had omitted perhaps the most vulnerable secret she concealed; her love for Anita Campbell-Green.
Alonso simply couldn't tell anymore. She seemed in an instant to betray any safeguards which she had built in trying to hide her excitement at the prospect of Anita's new found importance.
"Www….well, I know she is unmarried." Alonso began to utter. Cruella DeVil kept her eyes locked on his face.
"She lives near the Regent's Park…'afraid that's all I know for the mm..moment."
After his words reached her ears, Cruella DeVil broke from her stare. She turned away from him and again took up her cigarette from the holder on the desk. She stood at the top of the stairs, placing her hand on her hip as she turned towards the door. Alonso couldn't hold his questions; taking a deep breath and banking on her trust in his discretion he found the courage to speak:
"What dd..does all this mean, Miss DeVil?"
"It means, Alonso, we've more than one reason now for keeping our eyes on my darling Anita. She is invaluable to me now. That coat could be the break we've been waiting for, just think of it!"
"Of what, Miss DeVil?" Alonso said, distracted by her energized movements.
"Dalmatian spots, darling, why haven't we thought of that before?" Cruella DeVil said; her smile lighting up her face in the midst of her epiphany. "It's genius! No other animal has such dazzling spots!"
To date, Alonso had never heard anything so bizarre pass from Cruella DeVil's lips. Perhaps he had been wrong. What did Anita's relationship status after all have to do with this spotted coat?
He had no idea that the spots would be the most destructive example of obsession he had ever come to witness.
