Hourglass

Chapter One

Chapter One

Brooke

Staring out the window of the high-rise building, I was ready to start my career. My life. The Denver skyline was breathtaking with the mountains in the distance holding fresh snow atop each peak. The soft whiteness decorating each tip signaling the end of winter was coming soon. Having just graduated from the Academy of Art Design, I prayed I would nail this interview at Hourglass Magazine, and begin the career I had dreamed of working at all my life.

I sat anxiously in the white leather chair in the lobby. Large black and white silhouette photos hung on the wall, showing off the graceful hourglass female figures, the magazine’s icon. The girl behind the desk looked like the epitome of fashion; flawless makeup, dressed in a chic pair of pants and blouse, rocking heels that had to be at least six inches. Twisting out my high-heeled foot, I reevaluated my measly four-inch heel black stilettos. Forcing confidence in my charcoal suit and white blouse, I brushed off my nervousness, my credentials and portfolio would speak for themselves. Another woman strode by, clip clopping as her sky high heels hit the marble tiles. Letting out a sigh I decided, just maybe, I’d stop at the shoe store on the way home and pick up some ankle breakers, just to fit in better.

"Brooke Reid?" an older woman dressed in a two-piece power suit bellowed.

"Yes ma’am, that’s me," I answered grabbing my stuff quickly and walking across the white marble floor to what felt like my own beheading. The woman critically raked her eyes over my appearance, before giving a curt nod, I’m not sure if it was in approval or dismissal. My false sense of security disappeared with every second of her scrutinizing glare. "Follow me," she ordered turning on her own fashionable, but sensible heels and heading down the glass hallway separating the commoners from the upper level management.

"Have a seat." She directed me to a stiff black leather chair detailed with chrome, as she took a seat behind the modern glass desk. "My name is Monica Vincent. I am the Editor in Chief of Hourglass Magazine, and as such, if I decide to hire you, you will report to me. I expect nothing but the best from my employees, and if you can’t provide that to me every single day, leave now." She paused a moment as if to provide me the chance to flee, tail tucked between my

legs. No freaking way! I straightened up, pushed my shoulders back, and tilted my chin. I was here to stay.

"All right then, let’s see your work."

I leaned forward and handed my leather portfolio to Monica, inside was every design template or cover mock up I had done in college and at my internship with another fashion magazine.

"And what is it you did?" she asked, sounding completely unimpressed with what she was holding in her hand. All of my dreams seemed to be going up in smoke right before my very eyes.

"Ms. Vincent," I began steeling myself with a deep breath and leaning forward toward the portfolio. "While in college, I was top in my class and worked with several designers as an assistant in helping to develop their ideas and coordinate fabrics and accessories to optimize their designs. I also interned with—"