CHAPTER TWO

Veronica had a list in one hand and held a basket in the other. She was slowly going down each aisle in the warehouse looking at all the fabric, lace, thread, gems, beads, and anything that would give her inspiration. If something did inspire her, she would put it in her basket. It was something she did every Friday, just not so late. Three in the afternoon on Friday's were a busy time for the warehouse, unlike the earlier hours when she usually went. In the morning it was a relaxing and enjoyable time away. It was always nice to get away from sketching and designing or the crazy hustle and bustle of everyone else at work. Not that she didn't love to sketch shoes or the long task of making the first prototype. She would even sketch on the weekends just for fun. But a different environment always inspired new ideas. Truthfully anything beat the monotony of her windowless, messy room that had hundreds of fabric scraps hanging from the wall, countless cubbies of thread, and drawers full of buckles, beads, and gems she spent four days a week in. Despite the warehouse looking remarkably like her office except for being on a much grander scale, and more tidy, she kept putting things into her basket feeling motivated. Marcus never spoke to her about her budget, and because of it she had got into the bad habit of buying more than she ever used while justifying it as creative brainstorming ideas.

However, she never came back to the office with only frivolous purchases. Her basket had everything from her list in it. The necessities: shoe cement, fabric stiffener, padding, sole linings, heel tips, and watercolor pens are buried in the bottom under fancy sketch pads, pins, needles and everything else she was thinking about getting.

Today the busy atmosphere didn't bother her. She was too busy thinking. Veronica was still terrified about what Marcus asked her to do. It was a mistake and she knew it! Being in the warehouse helped get her mind off things for a while before thoughts slowly crept back in.

All she wanted to do was design shoes. If she was going to design clothes or work around clothes she could have taken other jobs. She had other offers besides Marcus, but shoes were her passion. That was the reason why she wasn't exactly thrilled to help Marcus review sketches and give her opinion on what she liked and disliked. She wouldn't have the time now to focus on shoes.

The idea of an assistant was great! Veronica even wanted to ask Kimmy to do it. She might be perfect for the job, because it would make her one step closer to being a designer. Her ideas on fashion were usually over the top, very flashy and beautiful for sure, but Veronica wasn't sure Kimmy would see eye to eye on clothes Marcus would want to hang in his store. If Kimmy surprised Veronica and began choosing his taste in fashion, Veronica could work more on shoes and less on clothes. It was worth a try to ask Kimmy what she thought about the idea. She planned on asking this weekend before she left for Paris. Paris, now that would give her inspiration for shoes. She looked forward to that.

Veronica picked up a long spool of red thread. It would be perfect for the shoe she drew just that morning. She tossed it into the basket and turned around. As she did, she thought about her idea and gloated in triumph. She was going to design shoes. Just then she smacked right into someone. She hit him so hard she started to fall backwards, but he caught her. At the same time she dropped her basket because she had tried to steady herself. She had attempted to reach for the shelf that displayed thread, but instead she seized his arm and both baskets fell to the ground. Their contents scattered on the floor. "I'm so sorry!" She said instantly turning pink from embarrassment. She dropped down and began to pick up, and put everything in her basket.

"It's fine." He said. They both reached for the same box of pins. When their hands touched she yanked hers back and looked at him. She flushed even more pink when she saw just how cute he really was. Black hair, green eyes, and shallow dimples in his cheeks. His eyes were striking, because of his olive skin tone and dark hair. She loved unusual combinations like that. He wore black suit pants, a deep blue shirt with a black tie. He was an pristine dresser which made him only that much more appealing. She looked away to keep from staring and blushed even more. It would have been so much better to have plowed over a little old grandma, then collide into someone so—attractive. At least she would be less flustered. "That is mine by the way." He said with a laugh. He pointed into her basket and then grinned at her. "You're putting my things in there."

"Oh!" She laughed at herself, and realized she was still watching him instead of what she was doing. She quickly returned his things to his basket. "I'm so sorry. This is just really embarrassing. I'm not thinking about what I'm doing." She groaned.

"It's okay." He said. He took one last thing from her basket before saying, "Everything is fine now."

"Thanks. You don't have to be so nice." She said and then nervously laughed under her breath. They made eye contact for a split second and he smiled before he began to stand up, and at the same time Veronica got to her feet.

To her horror, she stood up much faster than him. She heard a loud crack, as the top of her head hit his nose. Instantly she saw it start to drip blood. She put her hands over her face and gasped. He looked at her. His face was suddenly white. He touched his hand to his face, then looked at his fingers seeing his own blood. At the sight of it he put his tie to his nose. "I'm so sorry!" She gasped again. He turned and walked away towards the bathroom. He had left his basket. Veronica stood in one spot petrified unbelieving what had just transpired. She was shaking from fear. Horrorstruck from breaking someone's nose made her instantly start to sweat and her heart pound. However, she suddenly realized he was gone, and quickly grabbed his basket, followed the blood droplets to the bathroom, and waited for him to come out.

"I broke his nose!" She whispered to herself in anguish. "I broke his nose!" Veronica had to sit down, or her legs were going to give. She was mortified and probably in shock. What was she supposed to do, or say when he came out? She didn't know how she could help him. Terrible flashing images of him gushing blood kept popping in her head. She half wondered if she should go into the men's room and tell him to lean forward, and not backwards. Then she wondered if she needed to take him to the hospital. What a terrible start to a weekend! She had broken someone's nose!

Every time the bathroom door opened her stomach leapt. It was torture. The worst part was she knew he was in pain. It had to have hurt. She wanted to know if he was okay. Veronica knew she wasn't. She couldn't keep from shaking. Finally, after five minutes, that felt like an hour, the man stepped out of the bathroom.

His blue shirt was wet from water where he had tried to get his blood off of it, but it didn't come out completely. Instead, it was blotched purple from the mix of red and blue. Veronica was alarmed to see just how large the plum colored stain was. He on the other hand was white faced.

It was a relief to see he wasn't still bleeding. "I'm so sorry!" She said while she approached him the moment he came out. She handed him his basket. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He said. It was a polite lie, and she didn't buy it for a second.

She fumbled for her wallet in her purse, and pulled out a business card. "I'm so sorry. Let me buy you a new shirt. Who makes it? Where did you get it? I looks like it's designer. It's designer, isn't it?"

"It's William Berks," he said. Veronica winced. William Berks made high end suits and one of his shirts was six hundred dollars maybe even more. He continued, "but I don't want to you to buy me another shirt. I'm fine, other than I have a headache. So if you don't mind . . ." He said excusing himself and began to walk away.

"No, please!" She said following him. "Let me at least pay for your dry cleaning! Something please!" She dropped her business card in his basket.

"I don't need a new shirt, nor do I need your help with my dry cleaning bill. So unless you have some kind of painkiller . . ." He said as he continued to walk. He turned down an aisle and headed towards the checkout stands.

She followed him, as she dug in her purse and named off everything she saw. "I have some free floating gum, a pen, chap stick, paper, and my wallet." She added, "But I don't have any Ibuprofen or anything like that. Well, I mean I do, but it's for women." Both the man and the checkout clerk looked at her with raised eyebrows and smirks.

"Thanks, but I don't have cramps." He said. He stood in line.

Veronica got in front of him to say, "I'll buy your things then." She took his basket. He held onto it with a tight grip.

"Seriously," he began to say, then looked down to her business card, picked it up and read her name, "Veronica Mitchell . . ." he studied the card, "The Veronica Mitchell who designs shoes at Saxton Hip?" He asked then looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. In a moment his eyes had traveled from her shoes to the clip in her hair. He touched his tie uncomfortably.

"Yes. I work there. I'm Marcus Yutan's shoe designer—one of them. Actually, he just promoted me today to . . . anyway, that doesn't matter. Do you wear clothes from there? I can get you a shirt, several if you want. I could mail them to you."

"I," he began to say, but touched his bloody shirt and then put his basket down, "Excuse me." He turned, and without another word he left the store.

Veronica stood there dumb struck for a few seconds. She had no idea what happened. Even as she stared at the last spot she had seen him and tried to recall their conversation. She didn't understand why he would just leave like that. The only conclusion she could come to was his headache. She couldn't blame him for that. Veronica only wished she could have at least bought him another shirt. "Miss! Are you ready to check out?" The teller asked her shocking her into motion.

"Oh, yes." She said and put her basket in front of the teller, and then glanced back to the front door. After Veronica left the store, she shook off what had happened as best she could.