Page 11 of Bad Things Come in Threes (The Rule of Three #1)

It has been weird having Nathan Cowe and his team in my space. I thought it would be easy to ignore him, but he had a presence that commanded attention. He walked into the room and you couldn’t help but notice, even if he wasn’t speaking.

Yesterday, they did the test shots and took a few pictures and videos of people working. It was a very different atmosphere for everyone, but we quickly got used to it.

The fabrics also arrived yesterday which means the sewing can officially begin. I was back on schedule and hopefully, I should be done with everything in about two to three weeks.

I could feel the anxiety slowly leave my body.

During the preparation for shows, it is very easy to get worked up.

I liked things to be perfect, or as close to perfect as they could get.

This used to grate on my parents nerves, because they didn’t like how much pressure I put on myself just to make everything work out.

But it’s not like I had a choice, I could either be perfect, or I could fail; and failure isn’t a word in my vocabulary.

My nerves end up stressing everyone else out, but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make for the betterment of the company and myself.

A knock on my door had me lifting my head. Marissa opened it slightly so she could stick her head inside, “I gave the feedback to Hannah and she looks excited.”

Hannah’s sketch was good. It was plain and simple, but good.

She has a real talent for art but I can’t work with simple and plain.

I gave her the admiration that she so deserved while also letting her know that she would need to give me something out of the ordinary before I considered putting her on my team of artists.

She seems like a good kid, and I have a feeling that she will surprise me soon enough.

“Also,” Marissa continued, “Nathan wanted me to ask if you’re ready for the Q and A.”

I cleared my throat before responding, “You can send him up.”

This will be my first session with him. And while I’m not particularly scared, I can’t help but feel on edge.

I have never done anything like this in all my years of business.

I was young and na?ve and I tried to be the nice girl, the sweet one.

The girl who never stepped on toes, and would always be seen at events.

I tried to make myself relevant. After a while, I grew smarter and I limited all my interactions with the press.

The truth is, the public and the media have a way of twisting words.

They have a way of making the innocent look guilty and making your good deeds look like shit.

No matter what you say, everyone already has a perceived image of you and nothing can or will change that.

They will portray the image of you that sells the most and they don’t care about whether it is detrimental to your health or business.

All they care about is making a quick buck.

The image of me is that I’m a stuck up diva, I am harsh and rude and very disrespectful.

There were even some claims that I like to traumatize my workers.

I don’t mind the rumors to be honest; some of those things can be true depending on the circumstances.

And most of their opinions are formed from hearsay and rumors.

The only problem is that this time, there will be actual evidence and words from me that they can use to either back up their claims or put it to rest completely.

I have seen businesses and reputations ruined because of one innocent comment, one statement that was taken out of context.

The funny thing is, even when they learn the truth, they won’t apologize, they won’t fix what they ruined- they can’t.

it would mean owning up to their wrong. And if there is one thing that the media hates more than telling the truth, it is admitting to a wrong.

The media is a lot harder and tougher on women, and most especially women like me. It is too late to back out now even if I wanted to. I made a commitment and I’ll stick to it regardless of the consequences.

Nathan walked in with two guys behind him. The guys were dressed very casually in jeans and plain shirts but Nathan was in slacks, shiny black shoes and a button up shirt. I wonder if those are the only clothes that he owns. I would have asked him if my mind wasn’t running a mile a minute.

I kept my hands under the table so they wouldn’t see how much I was fiddling with my fingers .

The two guys set up two cameras, one facing me and the other to the side so it would capture both of us I guess. Nathan handed me the mic so I could attach it to my outfit. Seeing this mic still pissed me off, and I still haven’t forgiven him for practically blackmailing me into wearing it.

As if he could read my thoughts, he shot me a smile. It was obviously a sarcastic one considering that it didn’t reach his eyes but it was still a pretty smile and it made him look a lot different from the growly journalist that he is.

As soon as the guys were done setting up the table, they spoke to Nathan in hushed tones then left. I was shocked; I thought they would man the cameras.

“Where are they going?” I really should learn their names so I can refer to them as anything but the guys.

“I prefer to have my Q and A sessions in private. You never know what you’re going to let slip, and it’s easier to control the narrative when there’s only one person around to hear it.” He explained, “But if you’re not comfortable, I could always ask someone to stay.”

“Let’s just get this over with.” I brushed my hands over my dress.

I chose a simple black body con dress for today. It stopped above my knees so I paired it with black tights, a tan colored coat and black platform heels.

After getting caught in one of my more casual outfits two days ago, I decided to make up for it by dressing up a bit today. That and I know people are more likely to take you seriously when you’re overdressed than when you’re underdressed.

He took out a book and opened it up and I swallowed as I thought of all the questions he could probably ask.

I know none of them will be personal, but that didn’t mean that they won’t be hard hitting questions.

There were so many rumors and controversies concerning me right now that I didn’t want to respond to.

But I agreed to this, so I have to deal with whatever he threw my way and I have to do so in a way that was fitting to my public image.

If I’m too nice, everyone will think that I was pretending since they’re all convinced that I’m a diva and a bitch.

But on the other hand, if I’m too rude, then everyone calls me a bitch and a diva, and I get bullied and hated and called names.

I closed my eyes and let out a deep exhale. I’ve played this part for many years, I’m sure I can do it for the next two months.

“Are you superstitious, Adira?” Nathan’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

He was staring at me in a way that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but somehow put me on edge.

He had leaned back in his seat, taking up the posture of perfect ease and nonchalance while I was sitting upright with a rigid spine.

We might be in my office and my building but he was in charge here and he knew it.

“Really,” I infused a sarcastic edge into my tone, “Out of all the questions you could have chosen as your first, you decided to go with this?”

“Consider it an icebreaker.”

I shook my head but responded anyways, “Not really,” I shrugged, “I believe in things like destiny, but I also believe that we can influence our destinies, so it depends. Are you?”

“Not at all; I believe in logic and superstitions like fate and destiny just doesn’t fall into that category. ”

“Pity,” I mused, “I think fate would have been kind to you.” The corner of his lips lifted but he didn’t out rightly smile and I wondered what would be enough to actually make him smile.

“So,” he continued, “Tell me about the fashion show in two months. From what I hear, it’s very exclusive. How did you get invited?”

I smiled as I thought back as to how I got invited. In all honesty, I had no plans of being invited to the fashion show. Only the largest brands in the world get invited and while I know that I have made a name for myself, I am nowhere near the caliber of people going for the show.

It all happened by accident actually. A woman had stepped into the store downtown. It is our largest store and coincidentally, I was also there. She needed help browsing the store and I decided to help her.

She asked a lot of questions about the outfits and the ideas behind them and I explained to her how I wanted to make a difference and show my Nigerian heritage in everything I did.

I could never forget the next question she asked.

She said something along the lines of ‘Is it only for black women?’ and I remember telling her that cultures can be shared as long as the appropriate respect is given to the original owners of the culture.

She then asked if I was the owner and I said yes. She asked for my contact, and the next day she told me who she was. I had no idea how I did not recognize her. I blame it on the fact that I was running on two hours of sleep and I hadn’t taken my daily coffee.

She asked if I would love to attend her show and display some new pieces for her and that was it. Within a week I had gotten numerous calls from various people wanting to be sponsors. It was honestly amazing.

When I was done explaining he hummed and took some notes in his book. The action grated on my nerves a bit. It reminded me of therapy and I always hated how therapists would make notes; almost as if they’re making their own impressions and judging you based off it.