"What A Coincidence!"
It was 10 pm in the Harkness household. Nicky was supposedly asleep in bed, but Agatha could see the light of the TV screen creeping under his door. She smiled as she listened in to his quiet laughs as he played whatever game he was on. Usually, Agatha would tell him to turn it off and go to bed, but she was feeling oddly positive tonight, possibly due to the subject of her latest sewing project; she’d spent all evening surrounded by reams of dark green fabric and threads. There was no way that woman would have clothes normal enough for a Vogue interview, and Agatha decided to take matters into her own hands. If Rio was going to steal her thunder, she might as well look good doing it. Plus, she was enjoying imagining Rio all dressed up in what she'd made for her.
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Rio hadn’t slept all night. When Alice finally managed to face her own home (not without the insistence that it reminded her too much of Jen), Rio was left alone with her thoughts and her tarantula, who was too busy traversing the quilts on her bed to offer any emotional support. What the hell was that phone call? To be honest, Rio had taken a little joy in Agatha’s jealousy. Imagine a 25-year-old nobody getting more coverage than a woman who was once queen of the industry. She could have felt a little sorry for her, but to be honest, Agatha deserved it. Maybe it would be better for the brand to have a newer, friendlier face anyway. With a heavy sigh, Rio reclined on her back, her gaze drifting up to the cracked ceiling overhead. It trembled slightly with the raucous laughter and music from upstairs; the students were having yet another house party.
A million questions ran through her head. When would the interview be? What would they ask her? Did they expect her to have all the answers? Did they expect her to talk about Agatha? God, she hoped not. What would she say? What if she let herself down, or worse, let Agatha down? Would she hate her?
When she finally emerged from her thoughts, her 6 am phone alarm sounded. That was the second time she’d forgotten to actually sleep in the past week.
At least she’d get a little guidance from Agatha when she got to the office.
Rio stepped into her shower, hoping to shake off the remnants of sleep. She took a moment to enjoy the steam enveloping her before stepping out and reaching for a pair of well-worn jeans and a blouse she thought just about formal enough to be suitable for work. She left a couple of the top buttons undone, telling herself it was just for her own comfort. And maybe a little for Agatha's eyes.
She wiped steam from the fogged-up mirror and applied some heavier-than-usual makeup, hoping that it would make her look half alive. After five minutes of relentless blending to no avail, she gave up, the feeling of thick makeup on her skin making her want to claw her face off. Wiping it off with her sleeve, she grabbed her portfolio and raced downstairs, just in time for the bus.
She only realized she had forgotten her house keys while in the elevator at the office. She sighed; it seemed she would have to climb through the third-floor window to get back into her apartment tonight. When she reached the seventeenth floor, Rio practically ran down the corridor and into the office, her eyes fixed on the floor. At least Teen wasn’t lurking around, waiting to bump into her. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen him at all the last few days. Maybe he'd finally be fired as well... must have served up one too many lukewarm coffees.
“Ah, here she is! The freshest face in fashion!” Agatha exclaimed as Rio appeared in the doorway. “Could use a bit more concealer; those under-eye bags are dreadful.” She was perched on her desk, one leg crossed over the other, scribbling in a leather-bound notebook. “No sleep?” she added after Rio failed to respond.
“Not much. Busy talking to my spider,” she said blankly, smiling a fraction at the woman’s overdramatic reaction. She was trying to cover up her growing nerves about the Vogue interview, though she was already starting to zone out.
“You still have that eight-legged freak?” Agatha gagged. Rio nodded wordlessly, taking her most recent sketches from her handbag and pinning them up on the corkboard. They had about fifteen half-baked looks now, united by their perfect blending of the pair's juxtaposing styles.
Agatha perched her wide-framed glasses on her nose and tutted, analyzing each of Rio’s new additions to their drafts. “Not that last one darling, I think I’ve seen that stupid high-low mess of a dress on twelve different runways." She said, ripping it down with a little more passion than strictly necessary.
Rio flinched as the paper ripped. She’d spent ages on that sketch, and her exhaustion, paired with Agatha’s childish displays of power, was really getting on her nerves.
"We really don't have enough time to be picky with what we choose-” She began, her voice a little flatter and louder than usual.
“I’d rather have no collection than a boring one.” Agatha huffed. She noticed how frustrated Rio looked; the woman was fiddling awkwardly with her belt, and her eyes seemed to dart around the room. Agatha felt a pang of something unfamiliar. While she enjoyed annoying Rio, seeing her genuinely stressed out was a little upsetting.
“You okay darling? Has something happened?” She said, waving her hand in front of Rio’s face gently. Rio flinched, snapping back into reality. She sighed, shivering a little.
Rio shook her head. “M’fine. Just tired. Overstimulated.” She hated speaking about her feelings, unless it was to Alice during one of their late-night deep conversations. Still, they hadn’t had one of those since the whole 'Jalice' situation, and it left Rio holding in week's worth of emotions and stress. “And I’m uhm, just thinking about the interview thing...”
“Oh, the back page of Vogue? Afraid, darling?” Agatha laughed, strutting her way over to Rio’s desk. She leant over her, two hands splayed on the wood. “Nobody will read it.”
Agatha paused, her brows furrowing in confusion. She’d expected a witty remark, an eye roll, or a scoff, but Rio just stared at her blankly.
“You’re serious?” Agatha said, her voice betraying far more care than usual. Part of her confident shell seemed to crack as she realised Rio was actually upset, and she tentatively put a hand on her arm.
“It’s stupid.” Rio shrugged dismissively. “I just don’t do that sort of thing.” She mumbled, shaking Agatha's hand off.
Agatha suppressed a smirk as she recalled Rio’s disastrously awkward interview when she applied to be her PA. While she hired the woman for her talent and drive, those doe eyes and awkward smiles likely played a role in her decision, too.
“It’s not stupid; I used to get nervous for this sort of thing all the time,” Agatha said softly before her confident facade returned. She clapped her hands together and smiled. “But look at me now, darling! Don’t stress. I’ll tell you what to say, okay? And if we don’t like it, we’ll just let them know not to release it.”
Rio nodded, meeting Agatha’s gaze. The woman’s loose shirt fell slightly forward as she leaned over the desk, and Rio tried to avert her eyes.
“Up you get,” Agatha commanded as she headed toward the office door. When Rio didn’t move, a look of confusion on her face, Agatha rolled her eyes.
“Walk and talk! You zone out when you’re sitting still.”
“What are we talking about? We really need to finish a couple more designs before the end of the day—” Rio replied.
Agatha laughed incredulously. “Darling! Your interview is miles more important than a couple of pencil sketches. You’re representing me to the media, and I’m not going to let you and your awkwardness mess this up. Come on, darling. It’s time to practice.”
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Rio ended up standing in the lift next to Agatha, trying to look anywhere but at her. Despite the unnecessarily large, luxurious elevator, she felt so close, so suffocated by the other woman’s presence. Her overly floral perfume burned Rio’s nose, and she could hear the gentle sighs of Agatha’s breath. Agatha pressed a purple nail on the glass ‘floor thirteen’ button, and the lift began its descent. It was only when Rio finally lifted her gaze from the floor that she noticed the elevator door was a mirror panel, and Agatha was staring shamelessly at her through it, smirking.
The five-second elevator ride felt like five years. Rio's throat was painfully dry as she tried to think of something to say to break the silence, which was only interrupted by the dull hum of generic music from the speaker in the ceiling. She didn't know if she would rather pry the doors open with her bare hands or have the elevator plummet seventeen floors, putting her out of her misery. Still, she had to admit that her eyes had subtly drifted to Agatha’s reflection and the way her hips looked in her fitted black pantsuit.
Finally, the doors slid open, and the women were pulled from their silent admiration. Agatha cleared her throat loudly before taking off down the corridors of floor thirteen.
Rio glanced around. It seemed that it was once a floor of private offices and abandoned sewing rooms. “I assume everyone who worked here left-”
“I fired them,” Agatha said quickly, waving a dismissive hand at Rio. “They complained far too much. And I needed all of this space for my pacing.”
Rio broke into a light jog, already a little out of breath from trying to keep pace with that gorgeous pair of legs. “Right. So... the interview”
Agatha nodded, each word punctuated by the click of her heels against the linoleum- it seemed the marble flooring had only extended to her office.
“Exactly. I logged into your email and responded to that scout woman. It’s tomorrow at 5. You’ll need to wear something nice, nothing too try-hard, nothing like, well...” Agatha gestured to Rio’s current amalgamation of ripped jeans and smudged makeup. “That.”
Rio was momentarily offended before looking down at herself; her sleeves were stained with the makeup she’d wiped off, and perhaps her jeans were a little more ripped than they looked on the hanger; maybe Agatha had a point. “They aren’t photographing me, are they?” She asked, nerves creeping into her tone.
Agatha laughed. “Oh, darling. You’re the designer, not the model. Though, you could be if you put a bit of effort in” She added under her breath, her gaze sweeping Rio’s figure. “They might ask you for a headshot, but we can send that it”
Rio blushed, panting as Agatha picked up the pace. “Headshot. Okay. And uh, what are they going to ask me?”
“I’m thinking it’ll be focused on your journey, growing as a designer, posting your stuff, working for me, our new collection. Y’know. They’ll try and make a bit of a story out of it, make you more relatable. More marketable.”
“Relatable?” Rio echoed, her nerves bubbling to the surface. “I’m just… me. I don’t have some grand story.”
“Everyone has a story,” Agatha insisted, her tone gentle yet firm. “Even if you think yours is mundane, it’s about how you tell it. Think about what led you here. Remember the late nights sewing, the failed pieces, the moments of doubt? That’s real. It’s what makes you relatable.” She announced dramatically.
Rio took a deep breath, trying to wrap her mind around Agatha’s words. She knew she had faced challenges, but they felt inconspicuous compared to the grandeur of the fashion world.
“So I should just be myself?” She asked, which prompted a cold laugh from the other woman.
“Ha. No way. You can ditch the awkwardness for a start. You’re young, you're sweet, you’ve got big dreams. Work with that. Everyone has their facade, their character. Find yours and play it well.”
“Right. And if they ask me about you?” Rio asked. She’d been waiting to see how Agatha would react to the thought.
“About me? Well, you can just tell them how amazing I am. I never said you had to be truthful!” She winked. “Don’t think too deeply about the questions. Only like, three people actually read up to the back pages, darling. It’s low steaks, so don’t get in your head about it.”
Rio nodded, panting as Agatha continued to storm through the labyrinth of hallways. “So... have a story, be genuine, relatable and honest unless it’s about you. And don’t get in my head about it.”
Agatha clapped her hands together, smiling. “See! Perfect. Oh, I love a fast learner.”
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After Agatha’s prolonged lunch break, in which she may or may not have gotten a taxi to the nearest alcohol-serving establishment, the pair ended up back in their office. Rio was sat on the chaise in the corner, sketchbook in hand, though the weight of impending deadlines gnawed at her focus. She’d been trying to distract herself from the day ahead of her, but her stress was severely hindering her concentration. Every line and curve seemed to wobble on the page, and her designs felt oddly disjointed and rushed.
Agatha was rummaging loudly through a cabinet across the room, muttering to herself. Rio couldn’t quite work out what she was ranting about, but the incessant whispering was getting on her nerves.
“What are you doing?” She called. When Agatha didn’t respond, her head still in the cabinet, Rio called a little louder. “Agatha!”
She turned, folding her arms. “What?”
“What are you doing over there? I thought we had deadlines to meet.” Rio said pointedly. While Agatha's contributions to the collection were undeniably impressive, they were few and far between.
“I'm trying to find you a decent outfit for tomorrow. I’m not putting my trust in your wardrobe.” She huffed, emerging from the cabinets and holding up a dark green jumpsuit. It was just Rio's colour, perfectly sewn and pannelled with a plunging neckline and flared pant legs. Rio raised her eyebrows.
“You just have that lying around?” Rio laughed. Agatha had an awful poker face, and that proud smirk told Rio all she needed to know.
“Oh, of course,” Agatha insisted, though something in her tone betrayed the fact she'd been up all night sewing it. “I’ve had this thing for years. Not my colour, y'know?"
“You reckon it’ll fit?” Rio said, smirking. She had a slight inkling that the woman was lying about where the jumpsuit came from.
“Oh, I’m certain,” Agatha smiled. She’d studied Rio’s figure enough to know how best to size the garment, and she had enough trust in her skill to know it would fit her gorgeously. She threw it to Rio, who held it out in front of her, studying the outfit. “Try it on, darling!” Agatha called, already resuming her rummaging through the cabinet. “I won’t look!”
Sure. Rio thought as she slipped into the jumpsuit. Of fucking course it fit perfectly, and when Rio caught her reflection in the mirror, she was a little taken aback; it looked beautiful- formal and stylish enough to make an impact, but comfortable enough to not piss her off all day.
“You ready, darling?” Agatha called from in the cupboard.
“Yep!” Rio called back, suppressing a smile at Agatha’s reaction.
“Oh, I’m a genius!- I mean, what a coincidence! That fits you perfectly. Shame... I’d loved to have adjusted it for you.” She smiled, winking exaggeratedly.
“Oh, I’m sure you would’ve,” Rio scoffed, praying that the rising heat in her chest wasn’t visible on her face.
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