Greta Meets The Big Bad Wolf

Panic at the disco

Greta

We walked into the hotel room, and I walked over to the bed, lying down on it. I basked in the glory of not dealing with Chad. I closed my eyes, then opened them, sitting up.

Dante looked at me strangely. I stood up and paced.

"Oh my god, I quit my job," I announced, panicking.

"Well, when you tell someone you quit, that's what it means," Dante mentioned.

"No, no, no. What will I do? I have no backup plan. I have no other opportunities. Oh, it's fine. Everything's fine," I said, flipping out.

Dante walked over and put his hands on my arms, rubbing them. "You don't need that job. You need your boutique with your designs," he assured me.

"I don't have the money for that. I make enough to support Hans and me," I said, feeling disappointed.

"It's a great thing that I set up a web page for you," Dante mentioned, smiling.

I looked at Dante with surprise. I forgot about the web page. He removed his hands and went over to the laptop. I followed, and he clicked on the page. My eyes widened.

"I would say that people love your designs," Dante said.

I sat down in a chair next to Dante. "Is that what I think it is? Did people order that many outfits?" I asked, stunned.

"It looks that way," Dante said, looking at me.

I looked at Dante, then fell out of my chair, passing out from shock. He looked at me lying on the floor.

*******
Dante

I chuckled and got out of my chair, helping Greta off the floor. She shook her head and looked at me. A smile curled upon her lips, then disappeared.

"What now?" I questioned.

"How will I produce the orders? I'm one person," Greta mentioned with defeat.

"I guess we get you help," I suggested.

"But I can't pay anyone," Greta reasoned.

"Hold that thought," I said, pulling my phone from my pocket. I made a call and explained the situation to the person. They agreed to help. A few minutes later, we heard a knock at the door.

I walked over and answered it as Hans strolled in wearing a leisure suit and wig. He strutted in, spun around, then posed.

"Hans. Hans de Gee, master of disguise and sewing," Hans said, acting seductively.

"Yeah, never do that," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"You know how to sew?" Greta questioned.

Hans straightened up and nodded. "Yep, and I'm awesome at it. Sewing relaxes me. It's like becoming one with a needle and thread," he explained.

"How did I not know this?" Greta asked.

"You didn't ask," Hans said shrugging.

Greta rolled her eyes and walked over to the laptop. She waved Hans over, and he checked out the website.

"Whoa, that's a lot of orders. I sew, but there's no way I can fill that many orders," Hans claimed.

Greta furrowed her brows. "Great, now what am I going to do?" She asked, walking over to the bed and sitting down. "I have no job, no way to fill these orders and no options."

"Or you can find someone to invest, open a factory, and hire people," Hans mentioned.

We looked at him curiously.