Casanova (Minnelli Family Series Book 1)

Zippy's Thoughts

Zipporah St. Victoire
South of France, Minnelli Estate

"I will not have a meltdown in these folks house." I chanted to myself as I scrapped yet ANOTHER design. I talked to Popper before she headed to bed. The sun was brightly coming through the office I stuck myself in. "Why is this so hard?!" I rubbed my temples in distress. Maybe because you're not that good, I thought. Or you need a break.

Leaving the room to stew in my thoughts, I came across a door that led out to the back. Curiosity got the best of me; so I followed the road that led to the back of the house. Rows and rows of trees. My mouth dropped. A large lake. I breathed in the air, walking around the area and calming my nerves. I smiled to myself. I could see myself getting married here, I thought again.

"Zippy, you gotta marry me girl..." I transported myself to a simpler time, a time I didn't have to worry about money, or career. I smiled at the memory.

"Boy, we're too young to get married. Find yourself a job first." I teased him. Bryson. My first love.

"I'm gonna marry you the second I get off the plane from Iraq. You hear me girl?" His bright eyes were lit up in the moonlight. "Design your dress for me. You know I love your designs."

"Boy...I can't afford to design my own dress!" I squealed in shock.

"I got you covered...take this money." he handed me an envelope, "find the fabric and all that shit. I'm serious now..."

"I believe you...I promise I believe you." I smiled again, taking a drag of the blunt in hand. Three months later, I was awaken from my slumber by my cell phone ringing. His mother was screaming in the background. I was shaking.

"My baby! They killed my baby!" It took a while but his sister got herself together long enough to tell me that Bryson had been killed by a roadside bomb. At his funeral, which was a blur, I wore the dress he told me to design, just not the color for a wedding. I used the remaining of the money to enroll myself into the Art Institute of Miami, I had to get away from Pearl River.

Snapping myself out of my thoughts, I designed the dress yet again. It brought so much peace to me to see the dress again. "I miss you Bryson." I mumbled to the wind. For a brief second, I felt the air around me go cold.

"Let me go love...it's alright." I could hear his voice so clear in the wind. Weeping to myself, I drew a few more designs before making it back to the house. The house was dark, like my mood. Determined, I was going to honor Bryson's request.

Freshman year took a toll on me. I just remember school and my room. Bryson really was my world. And as much as I would admit it, I preferred it that way. I was in the school on a wing and a prayer in the first place. But losing him took a piece of me I didn't know I could lose. My peace of mind. I was so paranoid, I got insomnia. I called myself dating after Bryson but I just couldn't get it together. Bryson was my high school sweetheart...well childhood sweetheart. That man knew everything about me. His death made me a recluse and I'm not proud of that. I refused to leave my dorm a lot, just a sketchbook and Netflix got me through the hardest days. I lost a lot of connections I previously had...but the most connection I lost was that of my mother.

I don't know but my mom wasn't the most supportive of me being a designer, which in of itself is weird. She taught me how to sew, what patterns look best in what colors, and things like that. Being a designer was all I ever wanted as a little girl. I just remember being so in love with Prada, Chanel, Givenchy. Versace. You name it, I knew the ins and outs of the fashion on it. As materialistic as it may come across, I just love the artistic aspect of it. Bringing patterns in my head to paper to fabrics; materializing what I saw. That's what drives me to participate in fashion in the first place.

I didn't need to own it to be able appreciate it. But try explaining THAT to the other designers in this business. But I honestly we all have other talents and ways to express. What eats at me as I get closer to my dreams is my mother. She looks at me like what could've been instead of what is. I often wonder if that's what I see or if that's the truth. Either way it goes, I'm going to confront that one day too.

After I graduated in the top of my class, I got a paid internship with the Jones Fashion House for the summer, I was hired on full time. Thinking back on that, I realize now that it was a fluke from the jump. Henrietta never liked me but I was the best designer in the city for the younger crowd, never minding the fact that I was doing fucking wedding dresses. Not jewelry or shoes. Fucking wedding dresses.

But anyway, that day in her office clicked something in me. I vowed to never work for someone again. The irony of that is I got on house sitting through one of Popper's friends' businesses. I needed coins and I needed them fast.

As the story goes, the boss was going on extended holiday and he needed someone he trusted to watch after his home. So boom, I didn't know this man from a can of paint but I went through a rigorous interview process and got the job. I was recommended over and over by the elite until I got put on with a company I work with now.

I gotta say this before I forget... House sitting is fast coin too. The elite don't give a damn about who's in their house and for how long sometimes. I'm always recommended to stay because I treat it like a hotel. Ha! Some of those homes look like hotels too but let me hush.

My ambitions for this fashion thing, really...I just want to be taken seriously by what I love to do. I may sound like I'm all over the place and honestly, that's probably where I am in my mind anyway. But I'm no Kanye...ha! One day I would want to be invited to somebody's Fashion Week.

I popped some popcorn and sat in the movie room, trying to draw some inspiration. But that's a feat for someone that doesn't believe in love anymore. Ironic right?