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“Shit!” She muttered and unsnagged the fabric from the metal hook before hurrying out of the stall. She turned and peered at her ass in the mirror before groaning.
“No, no, no,” she whispered. The rip was so large that she could see the edge of her underwear and the length of her nylon-clad thigh. There was no way the suit jacket would cover it.
“Think, Jane!” She said fiercely as she held the ripped edges together. Maybe she could ask the receptionist for some tape. She could tape it together.
Tape isn’t going to stick to the fabric, you idiot!
“Oh God,” she moaned. She checked her watch. It was 8:17. She had precisely thirteen minutes to fix her wardrobe malfunction.
“Stapler! I can staple it together!” she said. “Just staple it and - ”
“Honey, stapling isn’t going to help.”
Jane whirled around. A tall, chubby woman with long blonde hair and light blue eyes stood in the bathroom doorway. She smiled at Jane before crouching in front of her. She examined the rip as Jane gave her a look of panic.
“I – I have an interview with Mr. Dawson in,” she glanced at her watch, “eleven minutes, and I ripped my skirt. Could you do me a huge favour and ask the receptionist if I can borrow her stapler?”
“I told you, stapling isn’t going to work.” The woman wore an off-the-shoulder blouse with a long skirt and a tape measure around her neck. She rummaged in her skirt pocket and produced a small plastic box of pins. “Luckily for you, I have some dress pins with me.”
“Oh, thank God,” Jane breathed. “Are you – do you work in the design department?”
“Something like that,” the woman replied with a grin. “Hold still, honey.”
She knelt and stuck her hands up Jane’s skirt. The bead bracelets around her wrists jingled as she pinned the skirt closed with practiced ease. She stood and studied her handiwork. “There, that should work. As long as you don’t do jumping jacks in the interview.”
Jane turned and stared at the rip. It was still apparent that there was a tear in the fabric, but neither her underwear nor her thigh was showing, and the jacket would cover the worst of it.
“Thank you so much, I appreciate this.” Jane grabbed the suit jacket from the stall. The woman eyed the clothespins around the waistband of her skirt as Jane pulled on the jacket and buttoned it. It hung from her petite frame, and she tried to adjust it as the woman watched.
“Don’t take this wrong, honey, but your outfit is too big.”
“I know,” Jane said.
“So why are you wearing it?”
“It’s my only suit.”
“Did you order it online from the website? Because we have a super easy return policy.”
“No, I bought it at a store.”
“The sales lady really should have made you try on a smaller size,” the woman said with a low laugh.
Jane blushed as dull embarrassment went through her. The woman frowned and touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t making fun of you. You look lovely, really.”
“I don’t,” Jane said. “I know I don’t, but I was told that wearing one of the Dawson suits would give me a better shot at getting the job. I need this job. You have no idea how much I need it.”
She stared at the floor in embarrassment. “Only Dawson suits are so expensive, and I really couldn’t afford one, but then I found this at a thrift store. I figured wearing a Dawson suit that was a little too big was better than not wearing one at all.”
She gave the woman standing in front of her a bleak look. “I look stupid.”
“You don’t,” the woman said. “A little pale, maybe, but not stupid.”
She grasped Jane’s shoulders and straightened her. “Now, chin up and shoulders back. Look confident, act confident, and you’ll do fine in the interview. Don’t let him intimidate you. His bark is worse than his bite, okay?”
“Okay,” Jane said. “Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck, honey.”
