Page 173 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
“Of course.”
“And?”
“To quote Luca Valente himself, ‘I gave his designers permission to use my ideas when I shared my portfolio.’ Even if I hadn’t, he pointed out that there were at least seven differences in every garment.”
I know what she’s referring to. We talked about it in a class I took at Parson’s. For a design not to be considered a copy of someone else’s, there have to be a minimum of seven differences. But those differences can be as small as the way a stitch is done.
“Are you serious?” My stomach turns as I scroll through all the pictures and look for what Luca and his team have changed. They’ve stolen years of work from me. Basically, everything I started working on my Freshman year at Parsons. “There’s got to be something we can do. Sue or something.”
“Even if we had the money to sue, they’ve already covered all their bases.” Anna takes her laptop back from me and closes the file.
I think of Malcolm and his army of lawyers. If I still had a relationship with him, he’d be able to stop Valente. Money and power go hand in hand, and he’s got loads of both.
But the idea of him helping me only makes me more bitter. Money shouldn’t determine who will win or lose before a battle is fought.
“We have to dosomething,”I say, without conviction. I want to fight but Valente is a Goliath, and I don’t know how to use a slingshot.
Anna shuts off her laptop. “The only thing I’m doing is keeping my head down and my designs to myself until I have enough experience to move onto something better.” She grabs her bag, ready to leave. Possibly ready to leave behind what she’s told me, too.
But I’m not. I follow her to the elevator, clinging to the need for justice. “You may be able to let it go, Anna, but I can’t.”
“If you figure out how to bring them down, let me know.” The cynicism in her tone tells me how likely she thinks that possibility is. “In the meantime, if you tell anyone I showed you the Fall line, I’ll deny it. No one junior to me is supposed to see it. This is the first time they’ve allowed me a preview of what’s coming.”
We’re silent on the elevator and as we walk out of the Valente building until we get to the parking lot.
“I’m sorry, Piper,” Anna says as she walks toward her car, and I head toward the bus stop.
I reply with a slow nod. I don’t have any words.
When I get to the bus stop, I’m surprised to see Julia there since she’d told me she’d likely be staying late today. I try to smile, but then I notice the tears in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I put a hand on her shoulder.
“They let me go.”
“What? When?”
She needs this job. The restaurant where her husband worked as a chef burned down in the LA fires. Now they’re both out of work.
“Today. My arthritis. I can’t meet my quota anymore.” She wipes at her eye and says something in Spanish I don’t understand.
“But…you’re not supposed to have quotas at all, Julia. You should be making minimum wage, not being paid by the piece.” My reasoning makes no sense, even to me. Julia’s only confirming what I’d already suspected Valente was doing. Honestly, I should be less surprised that they’ve stolen from me. The signs of unethical business practices were all around me from day one.
Julia’s problem with Valente, however, feels more solvable than mine. “I can help you find an attorney. They can’t fire you for a disability.”
Julia shakes her head and sends me a look as if I should already understand why she hasn’t done that already and why she put up with Valente’s abuse in the first place.
She’s undocumented. She can’t report Valente for workers' comp violations without the risk of being deported.
“I’m sorry, Julia. This isn’t right.”
She offers me a sad smile. We both know I’m powerless to do anything. If I can’t keep them from stealing from me, how can I keep them from stealing from anyone else?
“Don’t worry, mija. I’ll be okay. I’ve been through worse. My family will help me plan what to do next.” She pats my hand with a confidence that I don’t have about my own situation. Julia has family to pull her through.
I have…me.
“How was your day?” she asks as she pulls an orange from her bag and begins peeling it.
