Twenty-seven year old Kimberly Parker found it difficult to focus. Her mind was cluttered with garbage. She just couldn't concentrate on the open sketchpad in front of her. No, her mind was on dancing bull dogs and animated limes. Damn those stupid commercials. Damn them to hell. And damn her! She shouldn't have spent those three hours lounging on the couch watching that STUPID television set. She couldn't understand it, she hated television. Though, there was an exception for movies. TV and films were two totally different things, right? God, she should have just read that book. What was it? Night . . . something. Whatever, anything was better than letting her mind rot away as she sat there, eating greasy potato chips, watching reruns of the Newlyweds. She didn’t even like Jessica Simpson. The girl can’t be THAT dense!
Tired and irritated, she thought that she would get nothing done. Her head was just . . . full of crap. So she sat there, alone in her apartment with absolutely nothing to do. If she had possibly known sooner that she would get nothing done that night, she would have gone out with Rachel and partied the night away. But no, she didn't. She couldn't. She HAD to get her work done before the night was over and done with. She had a deadline to meet dammit! A deadline . . . she just HAD to finish it.
She was young, she thought, she shouldn’t be stressing as much as she was. If she didn’t make the deadline . . . then she didn’t make the deadline. She could just call either of the two and ask for an extension. They wouldn’t mind. They would understand. She was in a funk. A designer’s block, if you will. If writers were entitled to writer’s block, why shouldn’t designers, like her-self, be able to succumb to designer’s block every now and then? Even just ONCE in their lives?
“Because . . . that would end your career. If you disappoint one client, you disappoint them all.” She closed her eyes, and held a hand against her throbbing head.
This was giving her a headache. She never felt this pressured or scared before. This was just a project . . . another design. She had done so many in the past, and all of her clients were pleased with her work. This was just another client . . . or clients, seeing as there were two of them.
Kim glared down at the still open sketchpad and mumbled a few very creative words under her breath. All that was written in it were the words ‘Timberlake/Summers’, and the date they were due to see it. August 2 . . . tomorrow. The pair was set to get married on Christmas Eve, she recalled. Both had said that it was a private affair and only a hundred guests were invited. "Only close family and friends will be attending," she remembered one of them saying. They came to her not six months ago, begging her to design Kate's gown. She was swamped then. There were so many designs she had to finish. Evening gowns, wedding gowns, 'penguin suits' . . . but she couldn't say no to them. She couldn't say no because they were just so darn cute. So in-love . . . and it didn't hurt that it was their FIRST wedding. It was a change for her. Lately, she had designed for people that were walking into their THIRD or FOURTH marriage. She was glad to know that there were still some people out there that didn't just rush into marriage, because from what she had been told, they have been going out for two and a half years before he had gotten down on bended knee. It wasn’t three months like the rest of them.
And . . . who in their right mind would get married after just THREE months of dating? Of exclusive dating, she hoped. Being in-love wasn't even an exception, from what she thought. One just doesn't RUSH to get married and start a family because they were in-love. Were they even sure? Did they even care? Marriage was supposed to be important, not just another adventure. It was an adventure, yes, but one that you have to take with Mr. or Mrs. Right. Not Mr. or Mrs. Right Now, as everyone seemed to be doing nowadays.
With a shake of her head, she dismissed the thought of marriage. To a degree, she still had a wedding dress to create.
She had taken that project, thinking that it would be a . . . refreshing change. She had been so sure that it was. But it seemed that this project wasn't refreshing enough . . . or at all. In the beginning it had been a fun sort of project, she had so many ideas popping around her head. But then she had made the wrong move and she Googled them. She thought that it would help her with her design, that it would help her gain a sense of them. They were a famous couple, there had to be something about them on the internet. Of course there was . . . something. A LOT of ‘somethings’. And she began to dread it.
These were two very important people. One was a heartthrob boy band member gone solo artist in the music world, the other a young starlet in the movie world. How couldn’t she have noticed that? How could she MISS that? She had seen them before, hadn’t she? Maybe she didn’t notice them, these past years she had been so busy, nearly drowning in her work . . . but she has seen them . . . long before this and many times at that. How could she not have known? They could make or break her career. If she designed Kate Summers's dress, and she hated it . . . the fashion world, Kim's world, would laugh at her. She would no longer be at the top of her game. She would be talked about and ridiculed. Would she risk doing that to her career? She loved her job so much. It was the only thing that gave her joy. Real joy. Her small little world covered with sketches. With fabrics, needles, and thread. Manikins. Beads and studs. If she created a gown that the actress would quickly detest, Kim was sure to have her world crash around her. She couldn't lose her sanctuary, her piece of heaven . . . and if she didn't design her dress, after she had PROMISED to do so, it would happen anyway. No one breaks a promise to Kate Summers, or Justin Timberlake.
But she did have the right to refuse service to anyone . . . she could refuse to do this, to design for them. She could say that they weren’t truthful enough to her. Sure, they told her their little love story and how everything happened for them, gave her some ideas for what they wanted in the gown, what they preferred, what they didn’t like, gave her the date when the gown was needed and more than enough time for her to complete it . . . but they forgot to mention who they were exactly. Did it just SLIP their minds? Did they momentarily forget who they WERE? Hell, they couldn’t have . . . they were flaunting their money. Dropping hints that nothing is too extravagant for them. They very well made it clear that they could have anything they wanted, no matter what the price.
They had POWER over the crowd, why didn’t they tell her THAT? She would immediately be the enemy if they hated her.
Feeling annoyed with herself, she ran a frustrated hand down her face. She was coming up with excuses. It wasn’t like her. It was far from who she was. She believed that excuses were as sad and disappointing as lies; she was a woman who liked the truth, no matter how ugly it may seem, or is.
And the truth was that Kim was nervous. More nervous than she had ever been in her entire life. This was definitely her chance. Yes, she was very well-known in her world. She designed for the best, and Justin Timberlake and Kate Summers were highly qualified for that category. But this would just set off her career. It hadn’t exactly left the ground. She designed for the best . . . the best of what Las Vegas can bring her.
They liked her work, they liked what they saw from her . . . would they be there, would SHE be here if they didn’t? And if her gown, if one of her creations were worn by THE Katherine Summers . . . maybe other Hollywood stars would too.
Grabbing her pencil, she pulled her legs up on the chair and hugged her knees close to her chest. She would finish this. She would meet the deadline. Kimberly Parker NEVER missed a deadline, and she won't start now.
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