Page 4 of Brooke's Bliss
Manhattan, NY
Five months later
Brooke Harper sat on the sofa and sniffled.“I can’t believe it.”
Her roommate sat across from her, and Brooke realized therewas not an ounce of sympathy in her eyes.It might be the colored contacts thatsomehow hid the empathy, but Brooke doubted it.Ami had never been empathetic,but shouldn’t this be the one case where the sisterhood stuck together?
“I don’t see why not.”Nope, not an ounce of sympathy.“Youcalled human resources on your boss.You told them he stole your designs andpresented them as his own.”
Yes, that summed up the situation neatly.“He did.”
Ami sighed, a world-weary sound that matched her ennuiaesthetic.“They all do.I told you it’s how it works.If you wanted things tobe fair, you should have picked another industry.”
“He got a massive bonus for my work,” Brooke pointed out.
Her boss led the design team at House of Bianchi, anup-and-coming design firm.They’d gotten their first big buy from Macy’s, andit was all from Brooke’s fall leisurewear line.She’d been deeply influenced byher trip home for the holidays a few months before.She had designed someskiwear and sweaters and whole outfits inspired by the horse ranch her brothersand sister-in-law ran.Cowboy chic, she’d called it.She kept it on her laptopbecause she hadn’t thought it was ready yet.
Mark Hallway hadn’t cared.He’d explained that the laptopwas the company’s, and so were her designs.She hadn’t even known he’d stolenthem, changed a couple of the fabrics and patterns, and put his name on themuntil one morning two weeks before.The company had a big presentation of thefall line with the announcement that they’d made the Macy’s sale and were closeto inking distribution deals with several European store lines.She’d sat instunned silence, not moving even when they’d brought the champagne out.
That champagne should have been for her.
Keep your mouth shut and I’ll make sure you get to go toMilan this year.
If only that had been all he told her to do.
It was someDevil Wears Pradabullshit, and shewasn’t taking it.
Not that it seemed like she had much of a choice now.Thehuman resources lady had pointed out all the places in her contract that statedplainly any designs belonged to the company.It was on the laptop they providedfor her, and clearly she’d done much of the design work during office hours, soit belonged to the House of Bianchi.The woman had been somewhat sympatheticbut clear.Mark was more important than she was.He was influential, and shewas nobody.She had only been working at Bianchi for a couple of years, and allshe had under her belt were some accessories for lesser lines.
Ami shrugged.“Everyone knows when you’re a junior designeryou keep your mouth shut and do your job.”
“No.”She wasn’t completely naïve.“Everyone knows the bosswill take most of the credit for the work, but the designer’s name should besomewhere.He should have given me some credit and introduced me to the owners.Instead, he told me I was lucky he thought I had something worth putting hisname on and maybe if I…”
She didn’t even want to say it.She could still feel thehumiliation, the opening in the pit of her stomach.She’d felt so small in thatmoment, like nothing she did would ever matter.Like if she wanted to move upshe would have to pay for it with her body, and that would take something fromher soul.
Ami’s lips quirked up.“Not gay, huh?They’re the worst.Sodid he offer you a promotion if you let him in your panties?”
He’d told her if she gave him a blow job then and there,that he’d think about mentioning her helping him with the designs in theVogueinterview he was doing at the end of the week.
She’d walked right out and headed to HR.She’d filed tworeports and been told they would take the situation seriously.
She should have known it would all go wrong when Mark walkedby her smirking.
A week later she’d been called in and fired.The reasongiven was that she wasn’t fitting in with the company’s culture, and it wascausing people on her team to feel uncomfortable.They’d brought up all thetimes she talked about her brothers and the fact that they were both married tothe same woman.She’d never hidden that her brothers were in an unconventionalrelationship, and everyone joked about it.She kept a picture of her brothersand their wife Rachel and their three kids on her desk.Her niece and nephews.She missed them.Her colleagues always asked for stories about them and thequirky town she’d grown up in where threesomes were a thing.
Then they used it when she became inconvenient.
She’d walked out with her head held high, vowing legalvengeance.“I intend to make sure everyone knows what kind of a boss he is.I’ll sue the hell out of the company and him personally.”
Ami winced.“You might want to think that through.You’realready going to have a tough time finding another job.You don’t accuse a manlike Mark Hallway without receipts, and I’m not talking about him stealing yourdesigns.No one will give a shit that he took credit for your clothes.You’renobody.He’s… Well, he’s been a top designer for twenty years.Bianchi waslucky to get him.”
“He’s been a top designer by stealing ideas.”Brookecouldn’t believe what she was hearing.No one would listen to her.They actedlike it was the fifties and Me Too never happened.“And he actedunprofessionally.He tried to force me into a sexual relationship.”
Ami’s eyes rolled, and she took a sip of her kombucha.“Brooke, if you wanted to be pure and shit you should have picked anotherindustry.You should have stayed in that rural, backwater town and likeanswered phones and stuff.This is the big leagues.It’s not fair, but that’sthe price we pay.Do you know how many photographers I’ve had to handle?I’vehad to make some decisions I’m not necessarily proud of, but that’s what youdo.You never were cut out for this life, and this proves it.The first time somethinggoes wrong, you’re whining and crying.”
Ami was a model.She did catalog work right now but wasabsolutely certain her big break was coming.At twenty-five.She was alsohighly judgmental of everything Brooke did.From her clothes to the way shetalked, Ami had always made fun of her.But she owned this rent-controlledapartment, passed to her from her mother.
How was she going to pay rent?Even with the controlledrent, she paid a couple grand a month for her tiny room.It was probably highlyillegal that Ami charged her roughly the same amount for the sublet room as shepaid in rent, but given the location it was a steal.
