Three Strikes

I sat in my office chair, flipping through design after design. Joe stood in the corner of my office, running his fingers along the photoframes on my shelves. He made small comments about them, asking me where they'd been taken, who the people were. Other times he'd sit on the floor, drumming on his kneecaps as I busied myself with the final preparations.

"Joe can you get that?" I said when I heard the door knock. He nodded and stood up, dusting himself off. He opened the door and Marie barged inside.

"You must be the fiance," she looked him over. "Not bad, Rose. A little skinny, but not bad." I tried to keep the glower off my face as she collected my design sheets. "We're going to need you in wardrobe soon. Peter said you'd be of some use." Marie glanced back at Joe before strolling out of the office. "You can bring the kid with you." And she walked out. Joe turned to me, shocked.

"You let her talk to you that way? She thinks it's okay to speak to people like that?" He asked incredulously. "Does she know I'm older than you?"

I sighed and set my fountain pen down. "Joe." I said slowly, blowing on my document in hopes of it drying faster. "What you've got to realise is that I'm only nineteen and I'm working here. It's one of the biggest businesses in L.A. I got lucky. Hardly anyone would take on a High School graduate. I was incredibly lucky that Peter liked my designs." I snapped my folder shut.

Joe shrugged. "I guess." He said.

Smiling, I apologised. "Marie's just... she's the boss. She's both mine and Petey's higher manager. If we were to go against her we'd have no jobs. Dozens of people apply for these places. It's a one in the million chance, trust me."

Joe smiled slightly. "You like your job," he said, smile somewhat disappearing. "I get that. I just don't get how you can let someone like her treat you like shit, Rose. You're better than that." He swung his car keys around his finger, catching them quickly. "You were always so headstrong. You were the toughest girl I knew, Rose Fletcher. Now you're being downtalked by some hag in a skirt."

I snorted at his wording. "Things change. People change."

Joe shook his head. "Not you. You haven't changed. You're still the same thirteen year old who challenged Kevin to that cross country race. You still bite your lip the same. Your posture is still rigid yet slightly relaxed. Your hair is still the same, curly enough to rival Nick when he leaves it natural. You still have the same determination in your eyes." He stood up and helped me collect the things I'd need to take to wardrobe. "I may not have seen you since we were sixteen and seventeen, Rose. People don't change. Especially not you."

I gathered the rest of my belongings and moved us to wardrobe on the 15th floor, Joe's words echoing in my head. He was right on thing - we hadn't seen each other for the past three years. I had changed - couldn't he see that? I was independant. I'd moved out of my Dad's house, I'd lived in three different states. I'd dabbled in every occupation worth thinking about. I'd applied to college and started at NYU only to realise it wasn't for me.

Upon entering wardrobe Peter whisked me away from my 'fiance' and into the fitting rooms. He led me towards Cara who was standing in her underwear as he flitted around, finding her the right outfit. "We're going to go with the Chanel." He told me, pulling a dress down from the rack. He handed it to Cara who slipped it on. "How does it look?" He asked me, waiting for my input.

"It's not her shade," I said slowly.

"It's what you'd written down," snapped Peter, now in his full work mode. "It's the dress you assigned."

"I had backups," I fired back at him, not letting him verbally tear me apart. He was still pissed at being out of the loop, I knew. But when Peter bitched he could rip into someone for days. "It's bag #278."

Peter rolled his eyes and sent someone to fetch the bag. "How's lover boy?" He asked snidely.

"Perfectly well." I replied in a snipped tone.

Cara looked up, surprised. "I thought you were single." She said, confused.

"I kept it a secret," I smiled and winked at her. Her eyes flashed in realisation and she understood why Peter was so snappy.

"Oh that's great, isn't it, Pete? Remember, you were saying it was time to set her up with someone. What's his name?"

I smiled and mouthed a quick 'thank you' at her. Cara was one of the younger models, two years my senior. She was French and very tall compared to my small, petite frame. The new dress came and we slipped it over her head, watching as it fit all the right places. I smirked, knowing that Peter couldn't argue with this dress.

"That's perfect, isn't it." I said, not waiting for an answer. "The colour's much better. And his name's Joe."

"Sounds lovely," agreed Cara, twirling under Peter's instruction. She gestured to the silk gown. "My first dress?"

"Absolutely," Peter sighed. He turned back to me. "I see what you're doing, Rosie. Don't think I don't know about it."

I paled. How did he know-?!

"You're trying to make Adam jealous aren't you? That's why you've rushed into things."

I sighed in relief, Peter mistaking it for something else.

"It's okay," he carried on, petting my head. "I'll keep it a secret." He winked and sauntered off.

Cara rose a brow. "Adam?"

"Trust me." I told the long-legged female next to me, "you don't want to know." I shook my head, seeing Joe in the distance, picking at dresses and shirts and ties and I smiled to myself.

"Complicated, huh?"

"You have no idea."