Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
When Jemima returns, I’m in awe. My friend looks absolutely gorgeous, the dress swishing about her gracefully.
“Wow, you nailed it! I really like how the skirt just barely touches your ankles.”
She smiles happily, flipping her wavy hair back.
“Thanks, I figured it would look good with heels, but fine with flats, too. For the resort collection, it’s really important to go from day to night. Then again, I hate those torture-traps they call stilettos anyways.”
I laugh. “Me, too. I hate heels.”
She grins.
“I know, I love sneakers, and I’m so glad we live in New York, where women wear sneakers all the time. But what about the back of the dress? How does it look on my butt?”
It might seem weird to check out your friend’s ass, but it’s normal around here because sizing is very important. My co-worker twirls around and I stare at her tiny ass, frowning a bit. Then I smile.
“It looks great. The zipper falls high enough that it doesn’t make an awkward bump but low enough so that it’s flattering. I think Marissa is going to love it, too.”
Jemima beams.
“Thank you again, Addy. I hope she does like it. I’m going to change but I want to see what you’re working on when I come out!” she calls.
The blonde disappears and I turn back to the bodice that I’ve been working on. The skirt is finished already, so my sample is nearly done. I just have to finish hemming the neckline, and then wah-lah! I’ll be ready for a big reveal.
Jemima returns just as I’m finishing my seam, and I hold the dress up for her to take a look.
“That’s so pretty! Do you want me to stick around so that we can see how it looks? I’m happy to try it on.”
I smile.
“No, you don’t have to stay. It’ll take me a while longer to finish it enough to put on a human model. The dressmaker’s dummy is enough for now. Maybe tomorrow?”
Jemima smiles again.
“Up to you. I don’t mind staying.”
I shake my head.
“It’s really fine. It’s late. You should get home!”
She flashes me a dazzling smile.
“Sounds good. See you tomorrow, girlfriend.”
Jemima grabs her bag and squeezes my shoulder as she leaves. Without her, suddenly the sewing room is awfully quiet. I’m the only one here, but I still don’t turn on any music. I feel like Marissa would find out somehow and reprimand me.
Instead, I go back to humming my favorite song as I finish the dress. Marissa doesn’t require me to work overtime. In fact, she tells me to leave at six like everyone else, but I like to get to a specific closing point once I get started. Otherwise, it can make it really hard to pick up the next day.
I put the finishing touches on the hem and hold the fabric up with a critical eye. It’s fine for now, and with a satisfied smile, I begin to fold the material. I’ll leave it at my work desk, ready for next steps tomorrow.
But as I pack up, suddenly a weird noise sounds out from the back. What is that? I go completely still, trying to figure out the mystery, but then it stops.
Fuck. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one here, unless we’re being burgled. Is that what it was? A criminal?
A chill runs down my spine. Maybe Jemima forgot to lock the door behind her, and now I’m about to be attacked. Prickles run down my spine, but then I shake my head. She’d never do that because she’s no amateur. We all know that we have to keep the door locked. Not only does it protect our employees, but it protects our property because otherwise, anyone could walk in otherwise and steal our designs.
I know I’m safe, and yet my heart continues to race. I try to breathe and calm myself down. This building is old, rickety, and sometimes it makes weird sounds. It’s probably just the pipes or the building settling for the night. There’s nothing to be worried about.
But as I sling my purse over my shoulder, another noise hits my ears. There’s a creaking sound, and maybe some moaning, like a ghost begging me to release her from a locked attic. Oh shit! Where is the sound coming from? This can’t be happening. I’m alone on our floor, and moreover, I don’t believe in ghosts. There’s some logical explanation for the ruckus I’m hearing.
A normal person would run for the front door and escape, but instead, I grit my teeth. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I grab my purse more securely, and then stand up. Hopefully fortune favors the bold.
Slowly, I make my way to the back of our floor. It’s dimly lit, and there’s a narrow hallway which leads to management’s offices. The floors are polished concrete, and my footsteps make a soft shuffling sound. I try not to breathe.