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“I... right off the top of my head, I’m not exactly sure,” Venerable stammers.
Seriously? He’s calling the gala an ineffective use of resources but has zero ideas of an alternative. He wants to call out so-called problems with no attempts or ideas to solve them. He’s nothing more than a contrary, negative pessimist who wants to build himself up by knocking others down.
Venerable continues, sticking to his script. “But while I support the idea of helping the orphanage, I wonder if perhaps it could be done more... efficiently?”
Lying sack of shit.
I start to protest, but my aunt gives me a sharp glance, and reluctantly, I shut my mouth as she decides to take this herself. “MonsieurVenerable, you raised these protests to me directly when Simon’s charity idea was first approved, and I addressed them then. We all know the saying. Good enough will often get the task accomplished while perfect is still pondering over the first stitch.”
That’s not exactly the way I learned the maxim, but it’s close enough that everyone gets the point. I give my aunt a nod as Venerable visibly withers, and my aunt continues. “Now, as to the next order of business. The recent fashion shows connected to our young designers contest. I must say, I’m quite pleased with how much buzz I’ve gotten on the contest, both in person and in social media. I do believe I’ve created a hit.”
I grind my teeth as my aunt takes credit for the contest in front of Venerable and the rest of the board. It seems that I’m never going to be anything more than her shadow.
“I do have a suggestion on that front,” Venerable says. “What if we do something similar to the charity auction using the designs of these young competitors?”
“Explain,” Jacqueline orders, and Venerable gives her a simpering smile.
“Well, while I know that their designs would never fetch the same dollar figure as your gowns did, we could use the funds we did raise to reinvest into the company. In fact, I have a potential investment opportunity where we could expand into Southeast Asia. Maybe fund a factory there to benefit from their tax incentives.” He holds his hands out, weighing his idea. “Though the sooner we move with that, the better. Maybe we could use the funds we’ve already received for the factory and then the monies from the other designers’ pieces for the orphanage.” He hums, looking off thoughtfully as though the idea only just occurred to him. I’m certain he was working his way up to this suggestion all along.
“Are you shitting me?” I snap, slamming my palms on the table, unable to hold back at the audacity of Venerable’s idea.
Venerable shrugs, “It’s perfectly legal.” He sends a victorious smirk my way, intentionally hiding it from Jacqueline.
“It’s vampirism, using money for orphans to open a sweatshop?” I seethe. “I cannot—”
“Let’s table the idea of another fundraiser for later, and send me the information on the South Asia tax incentives,” my aunt says.
I stand up in horrified shock, my chair rolling away.
Jaqueline holds up a staying hand before I can protest. “And no, the most recent auction funds willnotbe used for anything other than the orphanage. I gave my public word on that.”
I note that my aunt doesn’t shut Venerable down because his switcheroo idea is fucking evil. She only shut him down because it would cause her public image to take a hit if it was found out. It makes me realize something.
There is something inherentlywrongwith the fashion industry in general, and House Corbin isn’t exempt. It takes advantage of the poor, paying as little as possible and sending work to sweatshops if it can, while turning around and selling those items for maximum amounts. I wonder, would the workers who assembled those gowns my aunt donated for auction have been able to buy one of them with a year’s worth of pay? Five years? Ten years? Ever?
Never mind what they auctioned for.
It makes me think about Autumn’s words, about how fashion needs to change. For her, fashion hurts women by setting unrealistic examples of beauty, of punishing women for not being near unattainable sizes. Fashion hurts women.
And for me, fashion hurts the economically disadvantaged, those I hold dear to my heart.
And what can I do about it? Nothing... as long as I’m not in control of House Corbin. The truth is, as long as Jacqueline is in charge, things will never change meaningfully.
But the idea of trying to usurp my aunt tears my gut to pieces. This company is her baby, her blood, sweat, and tears poured in long before I was born. Even with all of that, she still took me in, raising me the best she could when she had no intention of motherhood.
I need to do... something.
But I don’t know what because changing things from the inside isn’t working, or isn’t working fast enough, at least.
At the end of the meeting, my aunt signals for me to wait. I stay in my seat until the room clears before speaking. “If you want me to apologize to Venerable again, it’s not going to happen. He’s a greedy fucking snake who will see this company burn to the ground before admitting he’s too stupid to have a single intelligent idea.”
“I’ll let it slide this time,” Jacqueline says dismissively, apparently not upset over my outburst. “To think about replacing the charity funds with... after I gave my word publicly? No, he needs to have his head shrunk before it is too large to fit in the door.”
“Thank you.”
“Actually, I have something for you.” She opens her leather portfolio and pulls out an ivory envelope that’s embossed with the House Corbin logo. “The check for the orphanage. I presume you would like the honors of delivering it?”
She slides it down the table, and I capture it. For such a small thing, the envelope contains the future of Sun Orphanage. “Thank you. I will take it out immediately.”
