Crossing Lines

ONE

Anxiety roils in my body like chaotic ping-pong balls with every stride toward Chavonne’s office. She encouraged me to push the envelope, so I hope she’ll like my ideas and consider the proposal.

Reaching the pink door, I draw a deep breath and knock. “It’s Davia.”

“Come in,” she calls out.

My heart accelerates as I enter the large, bright, tranquil suite, glamorously adorned with chic furniture, stylish décor, and mannequins displaying her favorite looks.

“All set?” she asks, peering up from the papers.

“Yes. These feel like my best yet.”

Her flawless brow quirks with interest as her red lips curve into a pleased smile. “Let’s see.”

Once she makes room, I place the folder on the marble desk and flip it open. Her mouth drops. “Wow, Davia, these are incredible—the details. Great work. We’ll start the process when we return from Paris.”

“I’m happy you like them.” I rock back and forth on my heels while wringing my hands.

“Okay,” she drones, squinting. “Something else?”

“You look so lovely today.” I motion to her wavy, copper-streaked brunette hair, bedazzled ivory jacket, and white dress. “Just spectacular. Regal energy.”

“As always,” she chuckles. “What is it, Davia?”

“Well...” I lower into the white boucle chair and go for it. “I’ve been here seven years, so I hope I’ve proven myself enough to propose… you consider launching this line under my name.”

“Oh?” Her expression remains unreadable as she leans back in the chair. Then again, no one could ever predict Chavonne’s moves.

“It’d still be under your brand,” I add. “Something like Darling Sinclair presented by La Monte . What do you think?” I rub my palms on my pants, praying she doesn’t find my pitch offensive. She gave me a chance after college. The last thing I want is to overstep.

The slow tapping of her long red nails on my folder is the only sound in the office. As her silence stretches, my worry grows. Should I have kept my mouth shut?

Chavonne is a force with stores in Baltimore, New York, and online. Despite building a successful black-owned luxury brand, she still fights for respect in the industry. Perhaps it’s insulting that a twenty-eight-year-old designer with a younger career dared to utter such a proposal.

“Too much to ask?” I question softly.

“Hmm.” My anxiousness subsides as her almond-brown face morphs with a smile. “I like it.”

“Really?” I almost spring to my feet and start dancing. “Oh my gosh!”

“ Darling Sinclair sounds great.”

“For real, Chavonne?”

She laughs. “Yes, Davia. Honestly, I’ve been waiting for this moment. There’s a fire in your eyes. I know you want your own brand someday.”

“I’m not trying to shit on all you’ve done for me,” I rush to say. “I appreciate everything.”

“Relax, hon,” she waves me off. “I’m happy you found the courage. I respect you more.”

That settles me. “It means a lot that you’re willing to take the chance.”

“Your talent speaks for itself. You’re ready for this.”

“Thank you.” I leave her office with my head high, smiling bigger than ever the entire way to my workspace.

Not a minute after sitting, Iree turns into my office, vibrant in her blue pantsuit. “Hey, uh…” Her voice trails while studying my face. “You look extra happy.”

“Welp!” I release a relaxed breath and tell her, “Chavonne agreed to a proposal that’s pretty much the start of a huge dream.”

Her brows go up. “What kind of proposal?”

“To launch a line in my name.”

“Yes!” She squeals while clapping for me. “Congrats, D. You should celebrate. Come to my friend’s new club on the main called Krossfire , a play on his name. The first drink is free.”

“Sounds dope, but I have plans with Jamir.”

She shrugs. “Okay, well, congrats again.”

“Thanks, girl.” I tap a key to wake my computer out of sleep mode.

“Um,” Iree murmurs. “So I was wondering.”

“Yeah?” I press. “What’s up?”

“You think Chavonne will let me go to Paris with y’all? I heard everyone in the office has been. That’d be amazing.” She shifts while flicking her green nails.

“Oh, I could ask for you. It’s a week away, and there’s stuff that goes into preparing for the trip.”

Her sleek bob swings with the shake of her head. “You know what? Never mind. It’s too last minute. I doubt she’d invite me.” She walks off before I respond.

I remember my first months at La Monte and how badly I wanted to travel to fashion week. It’s a great experience. Maybe I could help Iree achieve that goal.

“Ahhhhh!” Trishell can’t contain her screams after hearing the news. “Sis, I’ve been telling you to take the initiative! Look at that. Your first solo launch!”

“Thanks, cuz. I have butterflies thinking about it. I’m so excited for summer.”

“You should be.” She blows kisses through the phone. “I’m proud of you. Jamir better spoil you tonight.”

“I haven’t told him yet. Figured I will over dinner.”

“Cool.” She points to my attire. “Is that a La Monte dress?”

“It’s one of my favorites that I designed with Chavonne. Here’s a better view.” I place the phone on my dresser and back up to show her the long-sleeved midnight blue mini dress with sequins on the corset top and a wrap at the bottom.

“Bomboclaat, gal!”

“The hell?” Laughter spurts out of me. “Is that the only patois you picked up from your Jamaican boo?”

“It’s my favorite expression,” she says, chuckling. “But seriously. The dress is fire. That body is bodying !”

“Thank you,” I giggle. “You look great, too. We’ve been putting in work.”

“For real. My ass is a lot rounder.” She smacks her butt so loud that it cracks me up.

“You’re something else.”

Headlights blare in the window behind her. She glances back and says, “Reeve’s here. See you at Pilates, babes. I’m about to get slutted out.” She dances with the phone. “I’ll be hanging from the ceiling fan by the time he’s through with me.”

“All right, lil’ freak. Talk later.” Ending the FaceTime, I finish my look with a silver bracelet, matching rings, and cherry lipstick, glancing over myself in the mirror while fluffing my twist-out.

It’s past eight, and Jamir still isn’t here. He’s been late for our date nights the past few weeks.

Sighing, I call him on the way to the living area, leaning against the island.

“Hey, baby.” His distracted tone is a bit jarring.

“Hi, are you close? Our dinner reservation is at 8:30. I’m dressed and ready to go.”

“Shit,” he grates. “Don’t be mad. I’m still at the office. I’m working hard to bring in this client, so I’m deep in a lot of paperwork. How about a raincheck?”

Annoyance straightens me up. “Really, Jamir? It’s Friday . I haven’t seen you all week.”

He hisses. “Davia, this is my job. I’m a finance associate, remember? It gets hectic at my company.” He loves to remind me of his high-paying career.

“I’m well aware,” I grumble, running my finger along the granite surface. “It just feels like you barely have time for me anymore.”

“Don’t do that. I’m building my future. You should be understanding.”

“I do understand,” I hit back. “I’m building mine, too, but still make time for our relationship.”

“I’m sorry,” leaves him in a heavy breath. “We’ll hang out tomorrow, okay?”

“Fine. I lo—” He ends the call before I finish. “Ugh.”

Grabbing a vegan meal from the freezer, I jab the plastic and pop it into the microwave. A glimpse at my attire in the floor-length mirror across the way irritates me more. To hell with it. I look too damn good to let my efforts go to waste. I’ll Uber to Krossfire and make it a night out alone.