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"My generation fought very hard for feminism and we fought very hard to not be labeled as you had to have a husband or you had to be in a relationship or you were somehow not a cool chick."
Stevie Nicks
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Metisha

"You should come, Mety. You really should," Diana persuades as Mrs. Marshmallows and one of the sewers assist her in getting into her wedding dress.

"Of course she will. Won't you, Miss Thompson?" My unsolicited mouthpiece, Mrs. Marshmallows says before I could answer.

Just why haven't I fired this woman?

Because I love her brain too much for my own good, that's why.

Diana, a classmate of mine back in highschool, has been on my neck like a leech ever since she came to have her wedding dress sewn. I hadn't agreed as of yet simply because I hate weddings. As much as I love sewing and selling wedding dresses, having to actually witness another member of my sex carted off by a member of the other sex in the name of matrimony is something I would rather not have my precious eyes witness.

However, due to the fact that Diana wasn't a bitch when we were in highschool, I had decided to go, even if that would mean doing a serious damage to my brain and eyesight, before my dear Mrs. Marshmallows (note the sarcasm) concluded that her boss had gone deaf and therefore left her no choice but to speak on her behalf.

"So, it's decided. You're coming." Diana beams. Done with their job, Mrs. Marshmallows and the sewer step back from her.

Diana takes a few steps closer to the standing mirror and I see that beautiful, bride-to-be smile slowly but gradually form on her face.

With a sweetheart neckline, the dress is fitted from the bodice to the hips, thereby flaunting Diana's gorgeous figure. Flaring out at her knees, the layered tulle completes the mermaid look she requested for.

"Wow!" Diana finally says.

"You like it?" I ask, even though I know her answer from her expression.

"No."

"What! Why?" Mrs. Marshmallows and I say simultaneously.

"I do not like it. I love it!" she throws her arms out.

We all laugh.

"Didi," I call, using my nickname for her in highschool. "you still haven't repented from your prankster ways, have you?" I only get a mischievous grin in return.

"So, how do I look?" She asks, swirling.

"Diana, you look so beautiful I doubt even the groom would let you take off the dress even after the wedding."

Diana giggles like a highschool girl whose crush had just confessed his undying love to. "But if he doesn't let me take it off, how would he see what's underneath?"

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Hmm." I turn to face Mrs. Marshmallows and Bailey, the sewer. "If anyone had told me, in highschool that our Didi would ever be able to say something like that without blushing, I would have called him or her a lying bastard." They both laugh.

"It's Josh's fault." From the way her eyes lit up when she mentions that name, I know she must be talking about the husband-to-be.

"So, you're fully satisfied with the dress?" I ask, moving closer to her.

"Hundred percent satisfied," she answers, happiness clear in her voice.

"Alright then, bride-to-be, you can take it off now," I say, giving her one last look over. "Gently," I add and she gives me a look that says 'You are telling me that?'
I shrug in reply.

Diana leaves with a smile as wide as the Pacific Ocean. I am about to go work on the wedding dress meant for Pamela, a client of mine whom I had been trying to think of a design for but just got the inspiration last night, when I see Mrs. Marshmallows walking, no, sneaking away.

Ugh! The woman and weirdness are like twin sisters. If not, why on earth would she be...

Oh!

I recall what she did earlier when Diana was here. A wicked smile forms on my face as I get struck with an idea.

Time for payback!

I glance all over the lobby to make sure no one sees what I am about to do. Satisfied that the area is clear, I start sneaking after Mrs. Marshmallows.

Tell me, Metisha, how old are you?

I snicker at my subconscious. What does my age have to do with this? Isn't there a saying that age is nothing but a number?

I don't know why but she suddenly stops. I quickly hide behind a white pillar and discretely peek at her.

Oh! I'm so enjoying this.

All of a sudden, she turns to look behind her. Then I see her grin widely.

Thought you've escaped, hmm? Well, you are about to get the surprise of your life.

Just as she is about to continue her journey to freedom, I clear my throat with as much noise as possible.

I swear with the way she jumps, you would have mistaken her for a frog. "Miss Thompson!" She squeals as I majestically walk towards her. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Almost?" I question, putting on my most innocent expression. "Didn't mean any harm. Just wanted to give you a dose of your own medicine." When she gives me a confused look, I add, "You wouldn't remember that you did something similar to this a few weeks ago, would you?" From the way her expression turns into one of guilt, I know she now gets what I'm talking about.

"Mrs. Marshmallows! Meet me in my office! Now!" I say with my boss tone.

My black heels click loudly as I walk as furiously as my tight wine leather dress would allow.

Honestly, I never learn. Wearing this kind of dress to a place where I do so much stomping due to one employee or the other pissing me off is just so ridiculous. The name of this place could as well be changed from Mety House of Fashion to Mety House of Piss.

As soon as I enter my office, I slam the door close even though I know Mrs. Marshmallows is probably three steps away.

She comes in just as I sit on the edge of my desk.

"Mrs. Marshmallows," I call, softly. "I want you to know that I like you." A look of surprise engulfs her features. That's probably not what she was expecting me to say. "You are beautiful, smart, brainy... in short, you are wonderful. However there are some lines even my closest pal wouldn't dare cross with me that you, my darling are starting to cross and which, if you continue crossing, might make me like you less and I'm sure neither of us wants that to happen." She gives a small nod. "For us to have a good and blissful working relationship, I would like to beseech you to change your ways."

"Firstly, I want to say I am sorry. I do like you too." I cock an eyebrow at her which makes a small laugh pass between her lips. "I really do and I definitely do not want us to become enemies neither do I want to lose my job." She entwines her fingers. "I promise to amend my ways."

"Are you sure you will. Promises are easy to make, you know?" I say, half teasingly, half seriously.

"Um.. Should we pinky swear?"

"What!" I bark out a loud laughter. She laughs too. After the laughter died down, we look at each other in surprise that we had shared a laughter.

"Is this the part where I hug you and you tell me you love me?" she asks with a serious expression.

"Crazy woman! Get out of my office!"

"Yessir!" she salutes as she exits my office.

Wow! That went well.

Maybe I should start trying this method with my employees rather than yelling and then ending up with a raging headache.

*****
I leave my workplace early because, well, I am the CEO; One of the perks of being a boss: You answer to no one but yourself.

I park my silver Mercedes-Benz in the dimly lit garage. On stepping out, I see a familiar car parked some feet away. A huge smile forms on my face on checking the plate number, affirming that he really is here.

Since he has a key to my condo, I know he's already in but just to amuse him and myself, I knock before entering.

I close the door behind me and see him sitting on the green sofa, with a yellow mug in hand, sipping something I am hundred percent sure is coffee. When he dies, I sure as hell will write on his obituary 'Adios, Coffee Addict.' I snicker at my own thought. This makes him turn to look at me.

"Thinking of hundred ways to end my life, young lady?" he asks, amusement evident in his voice.

"Oh, old man, you know me too well." I make my way towards him. Stopping behind the sofa he's sitted on, I put my hands around him and place a kiss on his grey hair.

"Just so you know, I didn't wash my hair today."

"It still smells good and will do, even if you don't wash it for a year." I respond, sniffing his hair. It really does smell nice.

"Tell me you're kidding." he chuckles.

"No, I'm not." I place my black bag on the spiral glass table and sit beside him. "Now, old pappy, tell me what brings you here. After all, you never visit without a reason."

At my question, he looks very much uncomfortable. I am about to ask what the matter is but the sound of the doorbell interrupts me.

"Dad, were you expecting someone?" I ask as I stand up to go open the door. However, I am confused when the only thing I get as a reply is indistinct muttering. I swear this man is way weirder than I am.

Opening the door, I come face to face with a blonde woman in a floral wrap dress. "Hi," I say, racking my brain to see if I had seen her before. Instead of answering, she only looks at me, like as if I am some kind of lost treasure of hers or something.
I hear Dad clear his throat and turn to look at him, only to see that he's in fact, already behind me. "Please come in," he says to the stranger, who is, by the way still staring at me.

"Thanks." Wow! She speaks!

I open the door wider for her to come in. With my dad leading the way, I follow the duo.

"Sit down, please." Dad says, in a formal and kind of awkward manner. And this is when the wheels start turning in my head.

Wait a damn second!

Is my dad about to...

Oh my gosh!

Is he about to introduce his girlfriend to me?

Immediately this thought hits me, I look at the woman now sitted across from me and Dad, cross-legged. If I'm to judge by the way she looks, I would say she can't be a day older than fifty. Her eyes are a shade of blue so beautiful but dangerous at the same time; Like you could get lost in them. Dad always refers to my eyes like that anytime I come home from school, crying because someone made a joke about my heterochromia. He would always say: 'Angel, they are jealous of those beautiful but dangerous eyes, they are at awe of the heavenly allure they find when they look into those eyes.'

Her high cheek bones and long nose gives her a sort of aristocratic look and her plump lips which are coated in red, look so sensual. Over all, the woman is a goddess.

Wow! Never knew my dad has such a good taste in women.

"I approve," I say with a big smile on my face.

"Uh.. What are you talking about, love?" My dad asks, confusion written all over his face. This old man is always trying to prank me. Sometimes, I feel like we're mates rather than Father and Daughter.

"Weren't you just about to introduce this woman here as your girlfriend?"

"What!" Both my dad and the strange woman exclaim.

"Uh.. Did I guess wrong?" I ask, now befuddled.

My dad seems to hesitate a little before speaking again. "Angel," he sighs, "I..I..I really don't know how to say this." He sighs again.

"Dad, what is it?" I ask, disturbed as I see the woman also nervously fidgeting.

Wait!

"Dad, is this woman, by any chance carrying your baby?"

"Of course not!" Dad yells exasperatedly.

"Then what is wrong?" I am honestly about to lose it with all this tension.

I see a look of resignation settle on Dad's face. "Angel, meet Paige Baxter, your mother."

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So, guys, here is another update.
I am sooo sorry it took so long. I hope I'm forgiven 😞😞

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