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Twenty-Six
Sage
“This isn’t reallya champagne kind of morning,” I murmur, swiping at the mascara streaks on my face. I don’t even know what I’m wearing to be honest, but I know I look like a wreck. Harper saunters through my door carrying two bottles of champagne and still wearing a smile.
“Chin up, lovely. This is exactly the kind of morning for champagne.”
She walks to the cabinet that houses my glasses and pulls two out. I slump over on the island. This was supposed to be a champagne popping kind of morning, smiles and pride for what we’d accomplished with the new Evermore line. Instead, it’s been a tears in my coffee, sweatpants kind of morning.
The launch of Evermore’s Everpure line, a lofty, minimalist line for both men and women, was supposed to be the launch of my career. It was going to take us to even bigger heights, get us on every single celebrity’s must-have list. We were going to soar.
Instead, this morning’s reviews are touting the line as “overrated”, “unimaginative”, and even “abysmal”, citing the launch as “lazy” and “lacking vision”. Just like that, the success we’ve achieved from building this company has been overshadowed by this one thing we’ve worked so hard on.
“Hey, so a few reviewers don’t like it. So what.”
“They’re not just any reviewers,” I murmur as she slides me some champagne. She pours herself a glass of orange juice and joins me at the island.
She’s smiling that typical Harper smile, but I can tell she’s burning inside, too. These were largely her designs, not that I’m blaming her. We’re in this together. But I know it has to sting to see some of the commentaries on her designs.
“Look, the big magazines and influencers just don’t get it. That doesn’t mean it’s going to be a total failure. Your fans are still going to love the items, and we’ll just have to maybe change up our marketing. It’s going to be okay.”
I look at my best friend, the reassurance in her eyes. Still, I can’t see the truth in her words. Instead, I see the word “failure” written in the stars. I see the failure my parents always warned me would come.
I hate that today they’ve been proven right. I bet wherever they are, if they’ve come out of their selfish bubbles for five minutes to take in the world around them, they’re smiling at the disappointment of Evermore’s newest line.
“I just thought this was going to be a win. We put so much into this one,” I whine, hating the tone of my voice. I’m unable to stop it.
“I know. But listen, some lines start out like this. I mean, other fashion houses have had lines that got terrible reviews and turned out just fine. And this isn’t our only launch. We have the Evervibe line we’ve started planning, you know? It’s going to be okay.”
“I know. It just sucks.”
“It does. I agree with you there. So that’s why I brought two bottles. Drink your face off today, watch some movies, relax. Take some time to just recover, and then we’ll be right back at it. And those critics will be sorry they ever said those things about you. Because the next launch is going to be epic.”
I wish I had her optimism. Because right now, all I can wonder is if Evermore has seen its best days.
Harper leans on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay, boss lady. I love you. I’m proud of you.”
“Ditto. I think your designs are great,” I say as she sits back up. I chug down a glass of champagne, slamming it a bit too hard on the island when it’s gone. “If those hoity-toity critics can’t see that, then you know what I say? I say fuck them.”
“That’s the spirit. That’s the Sage Everling we know and love. Now listen, you know I draw best when I’m angry and mopey. And today, I’m sort of both. So I’m going to go work on the Evervibe sketches. Do you need anything before I go?”
“I have all I need,” I reply, feigning a smile as I point to the champagne.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“You do the same.” I lean in and hug her before walking her to the door.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks, turning one more time to study me.
I offer my best “I’m fine” look, nod, and give her a thumbs up.
“Okay,” she says hesitantly before heading out. I slowly shut the door after waving one more time.
And then I crumple to the floor and cry. No matter how sassy and confident, every woman has her breaking point. Every woman can only fake being okay for so long.
And every woman has her ultimate fear that cracks her.
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