Page 10 of The Boss I Can't Stand
“Oh, right.”Here goes nothing. I headed down the hall to the room. Finn held the door open for me, his gaze steely. I met it with one of my own, remembering what Ro had said. If he didn’t like strong, sassy women, I’d already lost, so I squared my shoulders and marched past him.
The conference room was set up with a large table, even though the only people at it were Finn and another man. Xavier “X” Bell, a highly regarded director with a temperamental streak, smiled when he saw me. I’d worked with him a few movies back, and we’d gotten along wonderfully. Some of my nerves settled.
“Nice to see you again, Sierra,” he greeted me warmly as I took my seat. Finn, meanwhile, had crossed his arms and was leveling me with a glare clearly meant to fluster me.
And just like that, the nerves were back. I cleared my throat even as my stomach churned. Strong and sassy. I could do it! “Nice to see you too, X. Thanks for taking the time to see me today.”
“Ready to begin?” Finn interrupted, his voice sharp, impatient. “We’ve got a lot of interviews to get through.”
X shot him a look, his brow arched, but I nodded. Then Finn launched into his questions. “Tell us about your process. How would you approach a period piece likeEvery Day Is Sunday?”
I straightened in the chair. “Well, I would deep-dive into the era. Thankfully, it’s one I’m already well-versed in, so?—”
“And by deep-dive, you mean what?” Finn said. “Read the biography? Because that’s a bare minimum expectation—you know, the same way you’d expect a store to stay open for itsfullposted hours of operation rather than being unprofessional enough to try to close early.”
Oh, you asshole.
“If I could finish my sentence?” I said. “Of course I’d never stop at the bare minimum. Myexpertisemeans I have a lot of resources to consult with beyond the biography to really understand the period and create costumes that help tell the story.”
“You think you’re the right storyteller forthisstory? Rather than, say, one about armies of sq?—”
“Yes,” I cut him off. Clearly, I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting this job, so there was no reason to worry about little things like being rude by cutting him off. At this point, the best I could hope for would be to maintain some kind of professionalism in front of X, who I hoped to work with again someday. I was already blushing fire-engine red, and I knew it would only get worse if I let Finn keep needling me, so I needed to cut this off at the pass.
“I’m absolutely the right storyteller. You have no idea how Evelyn’s story spoke to me. I know exactly what it’s like to live in a world where you can never speak your mind, where you’re bound in on every side by expectations. Where all you want to do is make the men around you pay a tax for being such ass-toundinglydismissive boors.”
Finn scoffed. A lock of his dark hair fell across his forehead. He swept it away, fiddling with his watch. “Youknow what it’s like to not be able to speak your mind? You don’t seem to have any trouble with it from where I’m sitting. The building could be on fire and you’d probably keep rambling about the cost of almonds and aliens.”
I glared at him. “Neither did Evelyn, by the end of her story,” I pointed out. “That’s what gives her transformation such weight. She broke free of the constraints society placed on her and found her voice. It’s like they say—well behaved women seldom make history. And you could bet your buttoned-up little self that she wouldn’t be forced into a position where the building was on fire.”
X laughed, and I tried not to startle. Honestly, I’d forgotten he was there.
“That’s great,” he said, catching my eye. “That’s exactly how I see Evelyn, too. Except for the almonds and aliens.”
Finn’s face was like stone. Unreadable. “And how long would you need to complete this kind of project?” he asked.
“Well,” I said, thinking it over. “I’d say about two months.”
“Two months!” He scoffed, shaking his head.
“If you’d like things done properly,” I snarked at him. “I would need to source authentic materials. This project might also require a customized fabric dying kit.” In spite of myself, my real enthusiasm pushed to the front. I knew I wasn’t getting this gig, but man, it had the potential to beso fun.
“We just don’t use the same colors that were popular back then, but some of them are really gorgeous—and I know they’ll pop on-screen while still bringing real period authenticity. All these things take time. Unless your goal is for me to rush in at thelast minuteand just use any old fabrics so long as they look era appropriate.”
His eyes narrowed. “Can you even handle a project of this scale?” he snapped.
“I’ve seen her work,” X said. “She’s more than capable of handling whatever we throw at her.”
“We’ll see,” Finn said, waving a hand dismissively. He pulled out a sketchbook and the bag from In Stitches, then walked around the table to hand both to me. “We’re requiring an on-the-spot test. This book gives a few rough character descriptions for a specific scene. Pick a character and design an outfit using the samples in this bag. Got it?”
“Got it,” I responded. Tension crackled as I met his eyes, staring him down. Goosebumps washed across both my arms. In spite of everything, part of me relished the chance to really show him what I could do. Not that I thought he’d truly appreciate it, butIwould know I’d nailed it. And that counted for something.
Finn finally broke eye contact to check his watch. “You have five minutes once you finish reading the descriptions.” His eyes flickered back to mine again. “Go.”
I flipped the sketchbook open as nervous adrenaline rushed through me. I peeked at the samples to make sure they were the same ones I’d given Finn yesterday, then got to work. In the scene description, Tommy and Evelyn were at an underground speakeasy.
I remembered the scene from the book. This was the scene where Evelyn really started falling for Tommy. He needed to lookamazing,but in a way that fit with the mood and demonstrated his character.
My pulse quickened as I started on the sketch. I could feel Finn’s eyes on me as I worked, and it made the room feel smaller, tighter. Five minutes was hardly any time at all. My hand almost shook as I created the basic silhouette of Tommy’s suit. I focused on a couple key features, like the cut of the suit and the sleeve style, then added a few extra details like pockets and buttons.
