The Boy Wore Black || Harry Styles

The Boy Wore Black - Chapter 9

Cropped ankle pants?  Check.  Stylish green blazer?  Check. 

I riffled through the clothes in the bag I held, feeling every bit the successful fashionista for the first time since I'd come to New York.  It had been a daunting task, and one that I was pretty sure I couldn't have accomplished without Jules expertise, but I had completed my first task at WFH and for that I was as elated as a child on Christmas morning.  Perhaps I wouldn't be a failure after all.

"Where are you at?"  Jules' voice came across the line, her bored tone letting me know that she was none too thrilled with eating lunch alone.  Despite being the boss' daughter, and the sister of another employee, she found it hard to make friends who liked her for her.  Or so she claimed.

Lucky for me, I was one of the few she willingly accepted to be forthright in their intentions.  Whether it was because Marsha liked me or not, I wasn't quite sure, but Jules was quickly becoming my best ally in New York and I wouldn't have traded her for the world.  I needed someone who knew the world of fashion, and she'd more than happily volunteered to be that person. 

I glanced at the street sign and rattled off its name, eliciting a groan of annoyance in response.  "What?" I questioned.  "It's not like I had any other option.  I had to get this done today."  It was true.  I was expected to present my findings bright and early the next morning, and would then go about creating my portion of the WFH blogging page that told people how and where to get the look.  That was another project that would be taking up my time.

Jules didn't reply to my statement and instead asked, "Do you think my mom would let me off early if I worked through lunch?  I'm literally sitting at a table by myself and I feel like it would be more beneficial to the company if I just used this time being productive.  Besides, there's a sale at Neiman Marcus.  You could get off early too and use it as an excuse to look for more bargains.  No one could say it's not work related and we could shop till we drop.  Not literally of course, though I wouldn't be surprised if you took a spill.  How's the wrist?"

I winced and rotated my semi-swollen wrist.  I'd finally obliged Jules' command to wear my ankle booties and I'd quickly regretted that decision when I'd fallen on the concrete right in front of the office.  My knee was spared again, thank goodness since it had finally started to heal, but my wrist had been a new casualty when I'd used it to break my fall.  I was luck I hadn't broken it in return.

"It's sore," I answered honestly, positioning the phone between my ear and my shoulder, "but it'll be fine.  Just don't be surprised when I retire these shoes after today.  I think it's God's way of letting me know that I need to invest in safer footwear."

"As long as it's cute footwear then that's fine."  Leave it to Jules to go for fashion over safety.  "Anyway, I'm going to go track down my mom.  I'll ask about you too while I'm there."

"Okay."  While I didn't relish the idea of skipping out on work to go shopping, Jules wasn't the type who took no for an answer.  "But if she says no then that's the end of it.  Don't force her hand."

"Have you met my mother?" Jules retorted.  "I couldn't make her do anything she didn't want to do.  She might be sweet but she's kind of like a llama in that way."

"What?"

"She's sweet on the outside but her talons are dangerous weapons.  She'll shred you to bits if you mess with her," Jules clarified.

I laughed at the metaphor and hung up the phone as the line on the other side went silent.  Jules was right.  Marsha, though nice, was a beast when it came to getting what she wanted and did not want.  I suspected Jules had inherited that trait from her mother.  Even then, I couldn't picture Marsha as a llama without cracking up.