Chapter 2

It takes about 30 minutes to travel from our apartment to the Piccadilly Circus underground station. We work in Mayfair, a prestigious neighborhood in central London known for its luxury shops, upscale restaurants, high-end real estate properties, and vibrant nightlife. From the underground station, it's a 7-minute walk; you head up Regent Street for about 0,3 miles, turn left on Vigo Street, and pass by the corner where Jeweler Richard Ogden displays some of the world's most expensive jewelry. I dream of buying a beautiful piece from there one day. But for now, our route takes up right onto Savile Row, into the beautiful headquarters and store of Fredrick & Sons. It still amazes me how we, but mostly I, landed jobs here, but that is all thanks to Emily's dad's connections. Hats off to good old Sir Snow. I've realized that having parents with extensive networks is the ultimate flex in life. For those kids, doors open automatically for them all thanks to their parents and their connections. I didn't grow up with that kind of advantage. My parents have always been honest, working-class people from a middle-class background. They provided a loving and stable home, though we always faced some sort of challenge, mostly financially related. They gave everything to could to my sister and me. That's probably why it pains me so much that I didn't get more time with my mom. I still miss her so much, though. Well, back to the main point. Let's talk about Fredrick. This store isn't just any store; it's the quintessential gentlemen's store worldwide. This building houses the world's most exquisitely handcrafted garments. Recognized as one of the most distinguished tailoring establishments on Savile Row, to me, its true significance lies in its embodiment of family. The team who work at Fredrick has grown to be more than just colleagues; they're like family to both Emily and me. They've embraced us from the moment we step through that front door. Everyone there is a true artist, a master of their craft, all under one roof. Working with them is an absolute joy. We make our way around to the back of the building, using what we call the staff-only entrance, which is our go-to door 90% of the time. Our employee passes grant us access, and the heavy back door swings open. This is where Emily and I part ways- she heads down to the locker and vanity room for employees, while I dash up the stairs to my office. Well, it's more of a shared office. I share it with my boss, Tan Phillips, whom I affectionately refer to as our "big teddy bear," much to his displeasure. Well, I work together with my boss. Emily and I both applied to be store assistants in the first instance. However, where Emily blossomed in her store assistant role, being her social self, I didn't enjoy it that much. Who am I kidding? It was horrible. I was simply terrible at it. As I said, I am not a spotlight kind of girl like Emily. Don't get me wrong, I wish I were as outgoing and social as she is, but I simply am not. I was more like the décor kind of girl. I like to make beautiful corners in the store, so that every single square meter of this store is breathtaking. When Taj, our boss, noticed that, he shoved a camera into my hand, and somehow, I ended up as the social media girl of the company. Well, it ended up in a good and the most secure place in the building. My little bit of quiet space. Especially if Taj is not there. Actually, I don't mind him being around. He's not as bothersome as some others can be. He mostly keeps to himself, but throughout the day, we enjoy brief, light conversations. At the beginning of our working-in-close-proximity relationship, it was mostly work-related topics. However, as we've spent more time together, we've grown closer and our chats have expanded to include a variety of topics. He has a quirky habit of blurting out random facts unexpectedly, which I found odd at first, but I have come to appreciate them. On the days he's not at work or adds to his desk, I miss our interactions. We've now progressed to sharing more personal aspects of our lives. For instance, he knows the broad strokes about my mom, though not the details. Apart from my family and close loved ones like Emily and Rodney, and for a while, my colleagues, not many people are privy to that information. It's not a topic I typically enjoy discussing. In contrast, Taj's quite open with me about his feelings on becoming a father soon. If you're familiar with the high society scene in London, you'd have heard of the name Taj Phillips- a formerly celebrated bachelor. He was the epitome of a ladies' man, envied by many men and desired by countless women. But everything changed when he met Grace. He fell for her instantly, claiming it was love at first sight. Fast forward a year and a half, and they're engaged and are 6 months into expecting a baby girl. I see why Taj is enchanted by Grace. She epitomizes Grace and charm. In a couple of weeks, she will turn 30 years old. Taj has been planning a surprise party for weeks. He even wanted to pay me to take Grace out to lunch, to interrogate her to a interrogation about her ideal 30th birthday party. I asked him if he was insane, but took Grace out for lunch anyway. Because I wanted to and I enjoyed spending time with her, not because I got paid. After that, Taj made me co-party planner. Never asking if I wanted to do it, but I honestly do not mind. It's mostly during my working hours. I honestly do not mind participating in their lives. I actually find it quite entertaining. Taj treats me like his little sister, which is nice most of the time but can also be annoying, especially when he criticizes Rodney's presence- the lack of it in my life, which he chalks up to disinterest. As I climbed the stairs, I noticed the office door was ajar. Ah, he's here already. My gaze drifted to the vintage Cartier watch I inherited from my mother. He's early: it's not even 9 o'clock yet. Pushing the door open further, I spotted him at his usual place behind his desk, phone pressed to his ear in his typical manner. If there's one thing I'd change about him, it's his phone use. Some days, he talks nonstop on the phone. Oh, please, dear lord, not today. His gaze drifted from a spot on the wall to me as he noticed my presence. His face lit up with a warm smile upon seeing me, but it quickly turned into a scowl as he resumed his conversation in Spanish. He was probably talking to one of the fabric suppliers- I remember seeing a note about that. I made a mental note to ask him about it later. It always pained me that I never learned Italian. Had I known my mother's biological mother, my real grandmother, perhaps things would have been different. Yet, I haven't tried to learn it on my own. It's not like there aren't any resources at my disposal. I drop my bag beside my desk and sink into my chair, booting up my laptop to prepare for the day ahead. The first order of business is always a hot cup of tea. It's an established routine here-whichever of us arrives first brews a large pot for the two of us. After glancing over my shoulder to see if Taj needs a top-up-he appears to have enough pour myself a steaming cup and carry it back to my desk. One of my primary duties is managing the incoming emails, including overseeing the back office account. This involves responding to client inquiries and scheduling appointments with the tailors. After sorting through the emails and forwarding pertinent or useful information to Taj, I respond to a few myself. Fortunately, today isn't too hectic, thanks in part to the extra hours I put in yesterday, getting a jump on today's tasks. Since I'm taking tomorrow off, I'm keen to keep my workload manageable to avoid a backlog after my couple of days away. Tonight, I plan to take the train to Rodney's dorm. With the upcoming year-and-a-half anniversary of my mother's passing, spending time with Rodney feels needed-he has a way of giving me comfort like no one else can. A haven from home. Engrossed in my work, I'm startled when a paper airplane gently brushes against my head. I look up in surprise, only to meet my smirking boss. "Well, finally. I've been trying to get your attention for about a minute." I roll my eyes at him. Even though I am a shy girl, I do have a splash of spice in me. I blame the distant Italian genes. Often, my mouth runs before I fully consider them, and that leaves me blushing once realization sets in, much to the amusement of some of my coworkers. "God forbid your royal highness should have to wait," I say. It's true when I say we're like siblings; we argue just as I did with my sister growing up. He pretends to be wounded, clutching his chest dramatically. "That hurts, little one." I cringe because of this ridiculous nickname he has given me. "Right here." He adds, pointing to his heart. "That's karma finally catching up to you for breaking all those poor females' hearts over the years," I mutter, with some little fire behind my words. Before this can escalate into a full-blown argument, I switch the topic. "Is there an actual reason you're bothering me right now?." "What is up your ass?." He challenges me. I narrow my eyes at him. Why does he know me so well already? "Nothing. Just in a sour mood." I always gets like this around an important moments in the events of my mom's death. First year without her, first Christmas, coming up also is my first birthday without her. Suddenly realization seems to set in, and his eyes soften. Great, now he feels sorry for me. "I see.." is what he says. Well, now this is awkward. To end the awkwardness, I speak up. Taj decided on the same approach. "Rory.. if you need to talk.." he begins but is cut-off by my words. "I am fine Taj." A small sigh left my mouth. "Don't worry." He stares at me briefly. Probably trying to read if I am being truthful. When he cannot detect any doubt- due to the good amount of time rehearsing 'I'm okay' over and over again. It now comes out believable. Crazy how you suddenly discover new character traits about yourself. Who know the girl was an actress. "Alright." He simply agrees. "Just know I am always here to listen." He smiles. Once of those real smiles. "I know, and I appreciate it. You know that." It would be the first time I spilled my gut to him. Yet give me yet another small nod. "Natasha messaged me; it's time for coffee." Ah coffee. Our daily 30 minutes coffee break with our whole team. Or better known as: gossip hour.