Cami shoots me guilty looks while all this is going on, but I can’t pause to talk about it. My brain has never worked like that. You have to get through something, come out on the other side of it, before you’re allowed to admit how bad things got. And anyway, she’s stuck behind a line of customers waiting to check out (one of the devices bugged out two hours in; we’re down to two, and frankly, three wasn’t enough to begin with).
In the middle of the afternoon, we run completely out of sizes small, medium, and large. Maybe that sounds like sales are going well, and sure, they’re not going terribly, but the racks are still more than half full. I’ve never seen so many extra-smalls in my life. I make a mental note to politely ask Margaret how she determined the product mix.
Margaret, who has spent most of the day over by the photo wall,snapping pictures of influencers. It’s the one aspect of the event she put together the night before. The wall’s got theFill your closet oncetagline, pink streamers, silver balloons. Not even our brand colors, which are navy blue and ivory.
When Gio comes through around three o’clock, she gives me a pitying look.
“Brace yourself for some social media backlash,” she warns me. “There are videos going around talking about the poor execution.”
I nod at her, busying myself with folding and refolding sweaters that are too small for most human beings to wear, especially since sweaters tend to be oversized anyway. “How bad are we talking?”
“People who aren’t even in Austin are joining the conversation. It’s becoming about…” I glance up. Gio winces. “Age, and experience. People are saying Revenant is an unsustainable press darling.”
I bite into my tongue, glancing over at Margaret again. She’d been a great employee for a company with a huge brick-and-mortar footprint. But I guess the problem is she’s never worked for a start-up.
“Also,” Gio goes on, “I heard someone say they need a discount on a shirt because it has spray tan smudges on it.”
I’m holding it together all right until a beautiful blond plus-sized woman with a Parisian fashion sense finds me toward the end of the event and—very gently, very quietly—tells me she’s disappointed in the size inclusivity at this pop-up. Our XL sizes and our XXLs are gone at this point, too.
“It’s inexcusable,” I tell her. She’s wearing the Revenant bow around her softly curled ponytail. “And I’m personally going to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Not online, and not in any store we ever open.”
She sighs, evaluating me. Like she’s wondering how sincere a person I am. If she can hold me to my word. “I love your clothes. I love the way they look on me, and I’ve never had a problem online.I just hope when your Austin store opens, I’ll be able to try something on.”
Five minutes later, I get a text from Derrick with a TikTok attached. It’s an Austin influencer who posted about the pop-up, detailing everything that went wrong. Talking about problems I haven’t even heard of yet: that the discount codes we advertised weren’t reflected on the receipts, that a few items were priced differently online.
Who planned this?
Director of retail experience. She’s new, I explain, as if that will appease him, my fingers shaking as I type.Been with Revenant two months.
I’ve barely replied when Derrick shoots back another text:Fire her.
That’s not even what sends me to the back parking lot in tears moments later. It’s an email that hits my inbox mere seconds after Derrick’s command.
Miss Davis,
We’re deeply sorry for the mix-up, but it looks like your table at Andalo was double-booked for next Saturday. Since the other bachelorette party booked first, we’ve had to cancel your reservation. You will be fully refunded. Again, our sincerest apologies. Below is a list of alternative clubs in the Nashville area that may accept a group your size.
Best,
Andalo
That’s when the meteor makes contact, the wordsfire herrepeating on a brutal loop in my mind, only it’s not Derrick saying them about Margaret. It’s Cami saying them about me.
You messed up. You did a bad job. You ruined something important. You weren’t a good enough maid of honor, and you’re also a bad fucking friend. Fire her, fire her, fire her.
I heave breaths in and out of my nose, slowing as my vision blurs from tears.
That club was the thing Cami was looking forward tomostabout her whole bachelorette weekend. She wanted to dance on a table with bottle service included, all her favorite women in a circle around her, shrieking the lyrics to Jason Derulo songs played at a sped-up tempo. She wanted to feel sexy and confident and in the middle of it all, the center of attention for once, everybody doting on her, just for that one night. I promised her we would do it all.
Camila Sanchez has six sisters, two cousins that are basically sisters, two more future sisters-in-law. But out of all those women, she chosemeto be her maid of honor.
Fire her,my brain supplies cruelly, as I push out of the doors and bolt around the corner, choking back a sob. I rush to the back of the building.
You’re doing a bad job. Not just at this wedding. Everything. You’re bad at your job. You’re bad at life. No one wants to be with you. Everyone who works for you secretly hates you. You’re so bad at all of it. Who do you think you are? You can’t be in charge of all these people. You aren’t good enough. You aren’t worthy. You’re only going to keep disappointing—
“Josie?”
I slam into something hard and warm. Another body, whose scent I know immediately. Will grabs me by each elbow, steadying me. I try to focus on his face, but he’s blurry.
