"I Know You Won't Let Me Down"
“I’m never coming back here!!” Agatha yelled. She’d had a rather unfortunate clash with an executive director at one of the fashion shows, and it didn’t help that she and Wanda were still drunk from their night out.
“You don’t understand! My collection is the thing this year darling, you should be begging to have my work on your runway, not replacing it with some arts and crafts party city bullshit!” She yelled, pointing her finger accusingly at the man. They were backstage, and she was attracting the attention of a couple of uncomfortable models.
“Ms. Harkness” The man exhaled, quite unfazed by the woman's drunken confidence, “I understand that you're a prominent figure in the fashion world, but there is a vetting process for our runway. Just because you were invited doesn't guarantee you’ll get a place. We can't just let anyone showcase their work without careful consideration of, ah, circumstances”
“Don’t give me that ‘Vetting Process’ jargon!” She slurred in a cruel imitation of his accent. “My work is some of the best in the industry and you know it! Stop wasting my precious time and give me back my usual fucking runway spot!”
“Ms. Harkness, I ask you to mind your language. Your output this season did not meet the organizers expectations nor criteria, and therefore your designs no longer occupy a place on our runway” he said firmly. “Please be aware that this behavior of yours is unacceptable, and I will have to ask you to leave if you don't-”
She cut him off, her frustration boiling over. She slammed her hand down against one of the makeup stations backstage, yelling now. “Unacceptable? The only thing here that's unacceptable is your taste! My designs are a million times better than that uninspired tripe you're putting on the runway! People like you shouldn’t be in fashion-”
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave”
“Ha! Good luck with that honey, I ain't going anywhere” Agatha laughed, until two burly security guards began to close in on her.
Shit.
“You can’t be serious!? You’re kicking me out of fashion week for this!?”
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And that’s how Agatha ended up on the plane back to England after three days. She’d called her secretary and commanded him to fire anyone who worked on the designs for this season, which was pretty much the whole company.
Great. She’d lost her spot on the fashion week runway, fired practically her entire design team, embarrassed herself in front of some of the biggest names in fashion, and totally fucked up what was supposed to be a nice little vacation with Wanda.
“I’ll have a top-up on this” Agatha tapped her fingers against her champagne glass, handing it to the flight attendant. She sighed loudly, pulling her sleep mask back over her eyes.
By the time Agatha got a taxi from the airport to her home, it was two in the morning. She was exhausted, but too stressed to sleep. She seriously needed to process what the hell had happened and figure out how she was going to get next month's collection out. Only when she nearly broke her ankle on a pair of stupidly large combat boots in the hallway did Agatha remember that Rio was there. The perfect opportunity, fast asleep in her spare room. She smirked.
Agatha crept to her closet room. She could tell that Nicky had had Rio playing dress up with her stuff since the order she hung everything up in was in total disarray. She sighed, slipping into some pajama shorts and taking her shirt off, before slinking back downstairs to her sewing room. She needed to brainstorm a new line and fast before her reputation was completely tarnished.
When she reached the sewing room, she noticed something odd. A red satin ruffle dress was lying on the workbench, half-sewn. It looked like something she could have made; her traditional classy style, but the fanned sleeves and the way the fabric was ruched added a touch far more modern than her own work. Huh, it seemed Vidal had been rather busy wasting her material while she was away- it was quite impressive. The neckline on the dress was atrocious, and it certainly needed a little shaping, but still.
Rio might be on to something.
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Rio had been looking after Nicky for several days now, not a word from Agatha. It was two in the morning and Rio was lying in the guest room bed, dressed in a green tank top and a pair of old boxers, her hair tied up in a messy knot.
She was struggling to sleep, tossing and turning. The memory foam mattress she was laying on was hard and cold compared to the decade's old springboard of a mattress she had on the bed in her little apartment. She somehow was missing that dump already.
Rio groaned, flipping her pillow over. Nicky was long asleep, tucked up in bed, and Mrs. Davis had padded up to her room not long after. She could have sworn she heard the front door open, but she put it down to her own delirium and lack of sleep.
All Rio could think of were her designs; she’d had a particular idea rattling around her head all night. She’d been borrowing Agatha’s sewing room for the last two evenings, and had been working on bringing to life some of the stuff she and Nicky had been sketching out.
Rio considered messaging Alice for a bit of distraction and support but thought better of it. She was probably busy messaging Jen, or maybe they were together in person, doing God knows what. That familiar feeling of jealousy sparked in her once again. She buried her head under the covers- there was no way she was sleeping tonight.
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Rio ended up slipping from under the covers and pulling on a pair of old fluffy socks that were covered in holes and loose threads, flicking on the light and descending the winding staircase into Agatha’s maze of a household. She may as well make good use of the hours until dawn, and what better than an inevitably endless walk around the halls.
She roamed the dark corridors and empty rooms. It was like a haunted house, completely devoid of any life. After accidentally slamming into a trophy cabinet and finding herself lost in an unnecessarily huge bathroom on three separate occasions, she saw a faint glow of light coming from one of the far doors. The door that led to Agatha’s sewing room. Rio had probably just left the light on when she was working there earlier...right?
Shit. If Agatha’s house got robbed, she’d be totally fucked. Grabbing a surprisingly heavy candlestick from atop a cabinet, she held it aloft, creeping over the source of the light.
Taking a deep breath, she threw the door open, raising her arm ready to strike.
“Fuck!”
Agatha was sitting in front of her sewing machine, surrounded by fabrics and lace and only illuminated by the faint glow of a lampshade. She had a garment on her lap she was hand stitching, a pair of wide-framed glasses perched on her nose. Her head snapped up as Rio entered, and she grimaced.
“Rhiannon! Put the fucking candlestick down! That’s antique” Agatha hissed, flicking on the big light and bathing the darkened room in color.
The sewing room was magnificent, momentarily distracting Rio from her confusion. Every inch of the lavish space was filled with fabrics, patterns and dressed mannequins. A large table dominated the center of the room, covered with all sorts of art supplies and work in progress, and the walls are covered in pin-ups of her past collections and designs.
Damn, Rio had assumed Agatha just sat in an office complaining and taking all the profits, but it appeared she was rather dedicated to her craft. Rio blinked, trying to comprehend what the hell was going on. She was probably dreaming. There was no way she was actually standing in front of Agatha Harkness in tattered boxers and a holey vest. And Agatha, God... was wearing a purple lace bra and a pair of silk shorts, make-up free and gorgeous. She pinched her arm, wincing in pain. Fuck.
“Holy Shit... uhm, hi Ms. Harkness. I’m sorry to disturb you- I- I got lost, I mean. What are you doing here? You’re- you’re in Paris, no...?” Rio mumbled, still clinging to the candlestick weakly.
Agatha rose from her seat, gesturing dramatically to herself, tossing her hair back.
"I am back darling, in the flesh. Wanda got food poisoning, and I'll tell you darling, alone in Paris is not a good look!" she winked; a total lie, but she’d never admit to being forcibly fucking removed from Fashion Week. Opting to change the subject, Agatha glanced at Rio’s intriguing nightwear. It was possibly the ugliest combination of men’s clothes and socks that should have been thrown out decades ago, but Rio still managed to pull the look off.
"Cute outfit hon" she laughed. “Very fashion forward.”
Rio blushed. Thank fuck she was still mostly concealed in the shadows of the doorway. She’d die of embarrassment if Agatha noticed how flustered she was. She couldn't stop her gaze drifting to Agatha’s exposed midriff, her chest, her collarbone... The little tattoo on her side that Rio couldn’t quite make out.
“And really, this” Agatha gestures to the corner of the workroom. The older woman had taken the red dress Rio had been working on and embellished it slightly, propping it up on one of the mannequins, “This is quite something darling!”
Rio was a little taken aback by the compliment but felt quite self-conscious that Agatha had taken it upon herself to edit her work.
“You’ve changed it. It was meant to have a plunge neckline.”
“I know darling, but this looks better”
Rio hummed. It did.
Agatha’s ice blue eyes looked the younger woman up and down.
“This, however, is not a good look. You’re in the presence of me and you’re dressing like you’re homeless? Doesn't bode well with our upcoming collaboration hon”
“What?”
“This” Agatha pointed to the mannequin. “I want to see more of your work. I need designer ASAP, and by happy coincidence, you’re in my house” She beamed dramatically, leaning back in her chair.
Rio shuffled into the harsh lighting, wincing at the thought of how awful she probably looked right now. She’d never really been precious about her appearance, but it was something about Agatha’s presence that made her a little insecure. Maybe it had little to do with how good she looked in that purple bra.
As Rio approached the desk, Agatha stood, gesturing for her to sit down. Rio obliged, Agatha’s hand brushed gently against her arm, sending a shiver down her spine. Agatha stood over her shoulder, tapping her fingernails against the sketchbook she’d laid out on the tabletop.
“I want you to work on more for me. I know the red isn't much, but it’s on its way. And I’ll improve your work afterward of course.” Agatha smirked; it was just too easy.
Oh my god . Rio thought to herself, struggling to conceal her inner elation. This is what she’d wanted. Don’t look too eager, it’s embarrassing . She took a breath, trying to act nonchalant, but the slight shaking of her hands gave her away.
“What if I want to go back to bed... it's like, 3am...”
“And sleep through an opportunity like this!? Darling, what if you woke up and it was all a dream? That’d be such a waste! And I know you’re not tired. Mrs. Hart told me you hardly sleep, always up working or pacing around.”
“Who?”
“Mrs... Hart? Whatever her name is” Agatha paused for thought. “Sharon, that’s it! But that’s not the point” she added, rolling her eyes. “I want you to do some work for me, hm? And you can come work on it with me after work in the office.”
"You still want me to be your PA while I’m designing for you? Really?"
“What else am I paying you for? Now get sketching hon!" Agatha grinned. "I may have fired half my team when I was a little bit drunk in Paris, so I’m relying on you to not fuck this up for me darling. We’ve got a month and a half before we need a new collection, and I seriously want to get out of debt.” Agatha ranted.
Rio could feel Agatha's breath on her neck, the smell of her designer perfume burning the back of her throat. It was actually happening. Agatha was asking for her work, for a collection, a collaboration.
“I know you won’t let me down, Rio”