Bleu

The first time I saw Miss Bleu was in her backyard, the universe breezed her to me by the sound of a wind chime, her dress swaying in the afternoon wind. Contrasted to her seemingly unkempt garden where plenty of yellow crusty fall leaves rustling, she looked immaculate in a beige flowy dress.

I was enthralled, not only because of her stark blue skin, but more so because when her golden eyes met mine, after she and my boss exchanged cheek kisses, her lips turned upwards ever-so-likely, enveloping me in a warm welcome.

If her curse was contagious, I didn’t mind the infection at all.

—

Elysia City, my beloved, charming, supernatural chaotic city.

The year is 1920 (of our Lord Cassiel) and glimpses of the ancients persist: angels fighting dragons, angels killing imps, demons shape-shifting for random human daytime or nighttime entertainment.

The usual days are usually boring, though.

That morning was no exception, the city was full of honks from the latest Ford Model T cars, curses from men and their fedora hats, and sounds of hurried worker bees in their tweed suits. They powered this city. I boarded my streetcar from my apartment building for my office downtown. I could have easily walked as it’s only a block away, but my pretty new little heels should deserve not to get too dirty too soon.

I worked for BWP, or Blue Williams Production, an event production agency. We owned an entire building but occupied only two floors downtown.

The family-owned agency started as a fashion media publisher; then in a few years they successfully transformed themselves into a much more modern event production agency under the watchful eyes of the agency’s current owner, Sir Godfrey Williams.

Mr. Godfrey is, in my humble opinion, a fairly decent Elysian City aristocrat. A fashion magazine once elected him as the most eligible bachelor three times in a year. His ever-growing fangirls called him Daddy Williams; they swore that he was still the best modern-day thirst trap, didn’t matter that his thick hair was graying rapidly, had a dead ex-wife that tried to cancel him many times and a barely legal, fuckboy son who currently terrorizes the city’s social scenes.

I opened the door to the office, anxiously anticipating work piling up at my desk. But a wondrous fragrance of flower bouquets drifted through me by surprise.

“Hmmm… ” I inhaled the air contentedly. “Jasmine.” I saw what looked like three or four big floor-length buckets of exquisite flower arrangements randomly placed near the entrance.

“I know right?” Amy, the receptionist, smiled back, “It feels like spring time here.”

“Who brought all of these?” I asked.

“They’re samples from this new florist that just opened down the street across from us,” Rania, my coworker chimed in. “So beautiful, ain’t it? Look at the size! And the smell! We could order some.. You know… for that big event.”

“For the Moon Gala?” She referred to the biggest fashion gala, one of our most lucrative projects.

“Maybe.” I said. “But our budget is not great this year. They’re cutting back. We’ll see.” I smiled, continuing my trot to the corner office, where my name and title was visibly printed in elegant cursive font.

Daisy Lim. Head of Operations.

And waiting for me is the lovely pile of paperwork on my desk. It is THE month of fashion where socialites are throwing parties left and right like peanuts. I briefly looked at the papers before getting my coffee from the break room. A lot of collabs and after parties. For your review printed on top.

I hope I can get home by 9pm tonight. Le sigh. I need two coffees, pronto.

When I got there, I didn’t expect to be trapped in the break room and forced into a freaking debate with the set designer who proposed using five photographers for the gala. Those people and their Kodaks are expensive!

When I got back, my little sanctuary of an office had fuckingly transformed into a blooming fuck of a flower garden. All those heavy, sample flowers had miraculously moved to my space that I could barely see my chair.

I hissed and puffed and looked around furiously to my people. They all avoided my stare.

Not strangely, though, I know by default who has the audacity and the power to do this.

“Felix WILLIAMS, “ I asked, my voice mad loud. “I know you’re there! In my office, NOW.”

A head popped out from under a desk. “Yes ma’am!” the head said. There’s a mischievous smile on his handsome face as he strutted comically to my office, accompanied by giggles from nearby ladies. Of course he didn’t forget to wink.

This obnoxious guy, Felix Williams, is the extremely green, young, poor excuse of an heir that Daddy Williams dumped on me - just because I reported directly to him, also just because I happened to be favored heavily and referred to as “one of the best employees he ever hired”.

Felix was away for sometime getting his internship experience in Paris (did he do serious work or did he only play, only angels know) before returning to Elysia city to someday claim his heritage. Rumor has it that he is bound to lead the agency in less than five years. I shuddered at the thought.

Behind the closed door, I was yelling what may have been profanities at the boss’ son, quite dangerous to my career. I guess I like to live dangerously; in fact my motto in life is “Do what is right, no matter how costly.” What’s right at the moment was ensuring the fuckboy wasn’t going to attempt another prank on me in the future.

Am I succeeding? I fear not, as he smiled coyly, looked intently at my face, and scrunched his nose when my voice rose a pitch. He clearly enjoys this.

I have this mild suspicion that I may have fallen to his game.

He didn’t make it subtle, it’s there for the entire office to see that I’m his next conquest.

The sad thing is, I did find his annoying pranks mildly entertaining. But that’s not right.

I paused from my scolding aria to catch my breath and stared at him. His white shirt matches his silvery vest, nicely done. Ooh his cheek is pinkier today, so blushy. Oooh I forgot how perfect his side profile is.

Shit. I found myself biting my lower lip. I think he noticed. I fake-coughed.

Luckily the phone on my desk suddenly rang. I glanced, it’s from the front desk. I pressed the button to answer the call, while maintaining my most sharpest daggery stare at him.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Williams wants both of you in his office in 10 minutes.”

—

Mr. Godfrey Williams. Aka the Daddy.

“Good morning Daisy, Felix.”

Mr. Godfrey’s low voice warmed up his decorated office that takes up half the floor, filled with cherry-wood furniture, and a head of a (real?) deer above a romantic-era painting of a lamb devoured by wolves. In a small corner, there is a picture of a lady with a red umbrella, one can only see her backside, her gown was blue royal. Everytime I go to his office, I never fail to glance at it.

“I have a small little project for you two. It’s a small after party for my old friend. You may have heard about her - Miss Bleu.” he paused, as if he had just said something sacred. “This will happen after the Moon Gala.”

Oh no. “Sir, I don’t know if I have the bandwidth, it’s all too sudden. “ I protested. “Do we even have capacity? We are already squeezed to the max, overtime is through the roof, and The Moon Gala is in four weeks!”

“It’s a small get together, Daisy - don’t worry. The guest list is less than a hundred, so her mansion will suffice for the venue.” He tried to convince me. “We just need the usual logistics, like decoration, flowers, catering and entertainment. Her makeup and dress are taken care of.”

I gave him a blank stare, and out of the corner of my eyes, Felix looked like he wanted to get out of this office yesterday.

“I want you and Felix to work together on making this happen. It’s a small event and shouldn’t be too difficult. You can grab two or three people to assist you, if needed.“

He stared out of the window, checking the traffic below before adding, “In fact, I am about to visit her in five minutes. Why don’t the two of you come along to check the venue?”

With that, Felix reliably became the unreliable person that he’s famous for. “Whoops,” he said, “I can’t go today. I have an important and valuable lunch. Revenue-generating stuff... ” He rambled and kissed his dad before bailing fast.

“I owe you one, cutie,” whispered him to me.

What. The. Hell.