Brooke's apartment- NYC
All things considered, Brooke wasn't doing horribly for herself. Sure, she'd be living somewhere nicer and working a hell of a lot less if she had it her way, but there were certain sacrifices a girl had to make if she wanted to get anywhere. Besides, she was doing shows, she was getting her line out there, she was making money that unfortunately had to go right back into her tiny little business...
And then her mother showed up.
Brooke had been at work on a dress that she was suppose to have done for this weekend's fashion show when the doorbell rang, which meant she was startled into stabbing herself in the hand with a pin. "Ow! Dammit! Coming!" she called, getting up and checking out her hand to make sure she hadn't managed to draw any blood as she went to get the door.
There was barely enough time to get the surprised "Mom," out before Victoria Davis strode right past her into the little apartment to get a look at the place.
By the expression on her face, she wasn't impressed. And then she had to go and put it into words. "Really, Brooke?"
"I'm on a limited income," she said, a tiny bit of meekness creeping into her voice. "I wasn't sure you knew where I lived, since I didn't even get a Christmas card..."
"This isn't the time. I'm not here long," Victoria told her, moving to the loveseat Brooke had crammed into the place in an attempt to make it look more homey. She looked about to sit down, then decided she'd rather stand than sit on that thing. "I heard about your last show."
"Oh, so you heard about how the model stumbled and almost tumbled off the runway?" Brooke was still bitter about that.
"Yes. But I heard good things about your work."
It was so sad how that tiny little bit of almost-praise got her all hopeful that more was coming. "Really?"
"I asked around, found out some about what you've been doing out here. It seems to be going well," Victoria continued.
"You could have just asked me," Brooke pointed out. It wasn't that she and her mother hadn't gotten along... Well, no, they hadn't. She tried to please her parents, but there wasn't any use when they were never around to be pleased. Until they'd gone broke, they just threw credit cards at her and let her do anything she wanted and that was their idea of parenting.
"Like I could have expected you to tell me the truth."
Ouch.
"I'd like to expand your business," Victoria went on, completely oblivious to the sting her last words had caused. "I think this little company of yours could go somewhere, with the right person at the helm."
"I'm doing okay," Brooke said slowly. "I mean, all these jobs and shows, I've gotten those all myself."
"And you got yourself where you are. Brooke, do you really want to continue to live like this?" she asked, gesturing at the apartment. "You're supposed to be better than this. You're slumming."
"I'm not slumming," she said quietly.
Once again, her words were completely ignored. "I'm going to be in New York for a while, to oversee things, and get you back on track. I'll line up some higher profile events for you, and I'll have you at Fashion Week by the end of the year."
Truth be told, there didn't seem to be a lot of bad here. Brooke didn't know why Victoria would want to help when she'd never taken an interest in a single thing her daughter had done, ever, but she did believe this could help Clothes Over Bro's, and she did want out of this apartment and somewhere that none of her income went to pest traps. There was however one question that kept niggling at her. "What about Dad?"
For the first time, it looked like Brooke had caught Victoria off guard. "Your father's elected to remain in Virginia," she explained. "His loss."
Aha. Brooke should have expected that, and having heard it, she had to wonder how long it would be before she heard the We're getting divorced talk.
"So," Victoria said with a small smile. "Why don't we go anywhere but here and you can show me what you've been working on?"
And then her mother showed up.
Brooke had been at work on a dress that she was suppose to have done for this weekend's fashion show when the doorbell rang, which meant she was startled into stabbing herself in the hand with a pin. "Ow! Dammit! Coming!" she called, getting up and checking out her hand to make sure she hadn't managed to draw any blood as she went to get the door.
There was barely enough time to get the surprised "Mom," out before Victoria Davis strode right past her into the little apartment to get a look at the place.
By the expression on her face, she wasn't impressed. And then she had to go and put it into words. "Really, Brooke?"
"I'm on a limited income," she said, a tiny bit of meekness creeping into her voice. "I wasn't sure you knew where I lived, since I didn't even get a Christmas card..."
"This isn't the time. I'm not here long," Victoria told her, moving to the loveseat Brooke had crammed into the place in an attempt to make it look more homey. She looked about to sit down, then decided she'd rather stand than sit on that thing. "I heard about your last show."
"Oh, so you heard about how the model stumbled and almost tumbled off the runway?" Brooke was still bitter about that.
"Yes. But I heard good things about your work."
It was so sad how that tiny little bit of almost-praise got her all hopeful that more was coming. "Really?"
"I asked around, found out some about what you've been doing out here. It seems to be going well," Victoria continued.
"You could have just asked me," Brooke pointed out. It wasn't that she and her mother hadn't gotten along... Well, no, they hadn't. She tried to please her parents, but there wasn't any use when they were never around to be pleased. Until they'd gone broke, they just threw credit cards at her and let her do anything she wanted and that was their idea of parenting.
"Like I could have expected you to tell me the truth."
Ouch.
"I'd like to expand your business," Victoria went on, completely oblivious to the sting her last words had caused. "I think this little company of yours could go somewhere, with the right person at the helm."
"I'm doing okay," Brooke said slowly. "I mean, all these jobs and shows, I've gotten those all myself."
"And you got yourself where you are. Brooke, do you really want to continue to live like this?" she asked, gesturing at the apartment. "You're supposed to be better than this. You're slumming."
"I'm not slumming," she said quietly.
Once again, her words were completely ignored. "I'm going to be in New York for a while, to oversee things, and get you back on track. I'll line up some higher profile events for you, and I'll have you at Fashion Week by the end of the year."
Truth be told, there didn't seem to be a lot of bad here. Brooke didn't know why Victoria would want to help when she'd never taken an interest in a single thing her daughter had done, ever, but she did believe this could help Clothes Over Bro's, and she did want out of this apartment and somewhere that none of her income went to pest traps. There was however one question that kept niggling at her. "What about Dad?"
For the first time, it looked like Brooke had caught Victoria off guard. "Your father's elected to remain in Virginia," she explained. "His loss."
Aha. Brooke should have expected that, and having heard it, she had to wonder how long it would be before she heard the We're getting divorced talk.
"So," Victoria said with a small smile. "Why don't we go anywhere but here and you can show me what you've been working on?"