"Always Be Ready"
Rio had woken up in her crappy London apartment that morning, her long, dark hair a total mess. She was dressed in a mix of pajamas from the boys' section of H&M, and last night's sewing project that she’d been fitting to her small frame until she'd evidently fallen asleep.
Peeling herself out of her cozy green sanctuary, she stumbled to the little tiled bathroom, careful not to step on the curly-haired tarantula that scuttled across the room. Every surface of the bathroom was consumed by candles, trinkets, plants, and random shit she couldn't bring herself to get rid of.
'I'll organize tomorrow...' Rio thought as she rubbed her eyes. She grimaced as she looked in the mirror, noticing her puffy brown eyes, tinged red from lack of sleep. She rubbed at a long, faint scratch mark up her cheek. Stupid cats... Or nails ...or sewing needles... Or whatever had done it... She thought to herself.
After splashing water on her face with perhaps a little too much vigor, Rio moved to her living room. It was less a space for living and more for her sewing, but then again, sewing was her life. The room was practically consumed by fabrics, scraps of paper, pins, and a mannequin in a long brown wig she’d beat up after a project of hers went wrong. She'd taken to throwing pins at its head whenever she got frustrated. It helped that it vaguely resembled a certain haughty CEO. Her eyes flicked to the slightly broken clock on the mantle. She was meant to change the batteries weeks ago, but she sort of liked the familiar off-beat ticking and hour-ahead timing. At least she wouldn't have to change it when the clocks went forward in March. Though it was an hour fast, she’d grown used to it, and she could tell that she was most definitely late. Rio dug through piles of scrap fabrics and half-made garments, slipping on an asymmetric green top that she had certainly forgotten to hem and a pair of fitted black jeans. Good enough.
Hopefully, she wouldn't get any unwanted criticism or backhanded compliments on the sewing or patterns. That kind of thing was really pushing her over the edge.
She dragged a comb through her hair, picking up her battered black portfolio of designs and sketches. Rio had sort of given up on anyone ever looking at them, especially not her boss, but she still took them everywhere with her.
"Always be ready” was what her mother had always said, though considering her current lateness it seemed she was doomed to once again fail to fulfill her mother's wishes.
Locking the apartment door, which the previous owner had painted a garish pastel purple, Rio flew down the stairs, almost taking out an old lady carrying shopping bags.
“There's a lift for a fucking reason” Was all Rio could think to say, rolling her eyes as she nearly hurtled into her.
Rushing out onto the bustling streets of London, she dashed for the bus, almost falling on her face as the laces of her Doc Martins got caught under her feet. When the 3A finally turned the corner, Rio slipped up the narrow staircase and took her usual seat at the very front of the bus, looking out onto the road. She’d always loved sitting there, it felt like she was driving.
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Rio wasn't quite sure why she was still at this job, a “personal assistant” to one of the biggest names in fashion, and one of the most arrogant pricks Rio had ever met. Scratch that, the most arrogant prick she'd ever met. She’d only taken it in the hopes that she’d get her work seen. It was simply a wrung on the ladder, she told herself, and then she’d be a proper designer. About two days into the job, she’d realized how naïve she was.
Agatha Harkness showed absolutely no interest in anything other than herself, her laptop and her lipstick; Rio was more of a glorified slave than a PA. Yet, something kept her there, fetching artisan coffees and filing through piles of shitty concept designs from Agatha’s team. God knows what; perhaps it was the ways Agatha’s hair seemed to fall perfectly around her face, the cold blue eyes that sent a shiver down Rio’s spine and made her legs go weak. Or the way her fitted designer dress suits seemed to perfectly show off every curve and feature... ‘No. Stop.’ Rio thought to herself, fiddling with her hair as she gazed out into the misty streets.
‘You're getting away with yourself, she's probably married to some stuffy bald rich guy twice your age.’ Rio muttered to herself, shoving her neon green earphones into her ears. There was literally two centimetres of cable left that hadn't been consumed by the tangled mass of wire, so she had to hold her battered phone up to her face to use them. Rio just couldn't be bothered untangling the big knot in them. Not that she hadn't tried and ended up throwing her phone across the room. She’d buy another pair, is what she’d been saying the past year or two. Oh well. That was the least of her worries.
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Rio arrived at Calderu Coffee at 8:11, ten minutes later than usual, by her digital watch. It was one of those shitty kids' ones that you had to press on and then the red digits would pop up for a second before vanishing again, the strap decorated with little green creepers. She liked to keep time, it just seemed to be getting away from her today.
“Hey Fashion Girlie!” Jen called from behind the counter. She wore dangling gold earrings and a long pendant necklace and had her hair tied up in its usual long dark braids. She was wearing a dark blue apron that somehow managed to look chic on her, despite it hanging off her male colleague like a potato sack. The barista had gotten to know Rio over the past three months of her reluctantly coming in on the coffee run for her boss.
“How’s the designs going? You famous yet?” Jen smiled, preparing the usual order of black coffee with as many shots as she could fit into the cup.
“Ugh, don't even ask about it, it's fuckin' hopeless. All I want is for her to just look at them! It's stupid” Rio groaned, gesturing to her portfolio with a pout. She almost stomped her foot before realizing how childish she probably looked.
“Sorry” She added quietly, covering her mouth in embarrassment. “Designs are going fine, thank you” Rio mumbled, not meeting Jen's eyes.
“Her ladyship is still giving you a hard time, I assume? She’s totally missing out on your amazingness y'know." Jen paused for a moment. "I can spit in here if you want” the taller woman added with a smirk, swirling the half-made coffee.
Rio sighs and nods slightly, leaning against the counter with both elbows propped up.
“You know her, always demanding something expensive and difficult. I swear if it’s not coffee, it’s a new handbag or some extravagant gift for her next business partner.” Rio says with a scoff. “And I mean... I might. Someday... Spit in the drink that is. But the price of this coffee is punishment enough. I don't know how she affords it every day” She complained, before freezing.
“Wait, is that rude? Sorry, I didn't mean to like, insult your prices.” Rio adds flatly. She had quite the tendency to speak before thinking, which landed her in a lot of hot water at previous jobs.
Oh, no, it's fine, chill. I don't set the prices, and I totally agree with you. I just steal the stale stuff after my shift.” Jen assured with a laugh, handing Rio the cardboard coffee cup. “And I totally get why you still work for her by the way. She's not exactly my type but damn, those recent red carpet pics in the black feather dress, to die for!”
“Oh, right, I mean, uh... yeah, she's... she's alright.” Rio blushed, taking the coffee and quickly turning away, walking through the crowds of posh coffee drinkers before pausing and turning back around with an awkward smile.
“Thanks Jen!" She called, waving the coffee cup; the boiling black liquid spilt down her sleeve.