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DRUNK MONKEYS IS A Literary Magazine and Film Blog founded in 2011 featuring short stories, flash fiction, poetry, film articles, movie reviews, and more

Editor-in-chief KOLLEEN CARNEY-HOEPFNEr

managing editor

chris pruitt

founding editor matthew guerrero

FICTION / Twenty / Ellen Rosenbloom

Marcy had just turned twenty. She was taking a break from The Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT) and was working as an Assistant Fashion Designer at a low cost (Costbelow) boy’s clothing company that sold to Target and Walmart. Things had to be done the way her boss, Jackie wanted them done. That meant no working pockets, zippers or buttons on the clothes – too expensive to make. Clothes had to have an elastic waistband – be pull on and pull off with ease.

Jackie, Marcy’s boss often had her scouring the internet looking at boys’ clothing. If she liked something she would tell Jackie and Jackie would decide whether to copy it (in a budget-friendly way) or whether it was not something she needed in the collection.

Marcy spent many a week copying clothing (in a budget-friendly way) and then giving the design to Jackie for approval. If Jackie liked it, she would send Marcy to the cutting room and Marcy would give the design to one of the sewers to make a mock up.

Marcy thought the job was basically awful. Mostly she disliked Jackie. But more than that, she thought the clothing was terrible and hated being a party to it.

One afternoon, Jackie asked Marcy whose desk faced hers, what her family was like. Marcy told Jackie the truth: her father was a surgeon and her mother was a designer. She had three sisters, a lawyer, a teacher and a sister who was a senior in high school.

“Wow.” Jackie said, “You must come from money.”

Marcy didn’t answer, but quickly changed the subject to ask if her last design – a knock off of a Basquiat image on a Uniqlo sweatshirt had been approved.

“Yes,” Jackie said.

Marcy disappeared into the sewing room – glad to get away from Jackie.

It was the middle of December, so it was really cold and Marcy wore a long black nylon Vince Camuto coat – it was nice and warm, but nothing ostentatious.

Jackie was a little late to the office the next day and she texted Marcy: “I’m running a few behind.”

She showed up an hour later in a white fur coat that had holes and was visibly dirty. It looked like she had picked it up off the street. “Your father would probably like my coat,” she smiled.

Marcy thought she was nuts. She was used to the runs in Jackie’s stockings and the wrinkled shirts and skirts – the partially combed hair, but this coat… Marcy basically thought that Jackie was probably stupid. She figured she must be at least forty and she had this shitty job making knock-offs of other people’s creative designs. There was another young women in their office. Amy Moon – an Asian girl who was probably no more than nineteen. Amy did all the coloring of the designs once Marcy had drawn them in Illustrator.

The only reason Marcy had taken this job was that once she had announced to her family that she was taking a year off, they had insisted that she work. Without a degree, this was the job she could find. She was a fashion design major and had put together her portfolio online and had submitted it to an agency. The agency found her this company: Costbelow.

When she had come for the interview, she had met with Jackie and her boss, Harry, a tall, skinny man in his fifties who said to her, “Is this really your portfolio?”

“Yes,” Marcy was confused, “I mean, of course it is.”

“We’re checking because the last candidate, a young man used someone else’s website and portfolio.”

“Like he hacked it?”

“We don’t know exactly how he did it, but we found out, because the real person whose website and portfolio it was, contacted our company. We had to let him go.”

“We knew from his work that he had no talent anyway,” Jackie half-smiled.

“Well, if this is really yours, you’re talented and,” He nodded to Jackie and she nodded back, “We’d like to offer you the position.”

Marcy was thrilled – at first. As the days wore on at Costbelow, she was hating it more and more. She was sticking it out because, she needed the money and basically, she had no choice.

***

Robert, Jackie’s friend from FIT texted her while she was a work.

“Hey there”

“Hey you!” Marcy texted back.

Robert had had a crush on Marcy ever since freshman year a FIT. It was not a secret, he had told Marcy on more than one occasion that he wanted to be more than a friend.

“So you want to have dinner tonight?”

“Okay,”

“So we can meet up at Barking Dog –near where you live – how’s 6:30?”

Marcy lived near 95th Street on the East Side in NYC. “Great, I’ll see you there.”

“Okay, C U!”

As soon as Marcy put her phone down, she felt dread – she knew how much Robert liked her and she knew there was absolutely nothing wrong with him – he was handsome and thoughtful and kind – perfect. She felt like she lacked something because no matter how hard she tried, she just didn’t feel attracted to him. And his best friend and roommate at FIT, David had told Marcy one day to “Knock off seeing Robert – it only gets his hopes up high and then he comes home after and he’s crushed…”

But Robert kept seeing Marcy. And Marcy did like his company –she simply liked to hang out with him –so she did.

The evening was fun with Robert. He made jokes about FIT and his roommates and his part-time job at Macy’s where he worked as a waiter in their restaurant. Robert was studying merchandising and marketing and was hoping to get a job as an Assistant Marketing Specialist when he graduated. He was now in his junior year.

“I’m impressed that you’re an Assistant Designer!”

“Well,” don’t be, I just help make crappy knock offs.”

“Still,” Robert looked intently at Marcy, “You’re really doing it though –“

Marcy looked away.

***

There was something that happened at few nights before:

Marcy couldn’t sleep last Tuesday evening – she was having terrible insomnia. Finally at 3am, she had given up on sleeping and decided to get up and order something to eat. She ordered an egg and cheese on a bagel with coffee from a Midnight Express – an all-night restaurant in the area. Charlie, the security guard called her and told her that her food had arrived. She got dressed and took the elevator down to the lobby to pick it up where Charlie was on duty.

“Hey Marcy!” he had said, “How are you - up so early! You can’t be going to work this early?”

“No, just having an early breakfast.”

“I’ll say!”

“Hey Charlie,” a man said, “How goes it?” He looked over at Marcy and said, “Who are you?”

“I’m Marcy.”

“Oh,” this man stared at her and looked her up and down. “So you got some food?”

“Yeah,” Marcy said. She didn’t think much of this guy and figured he had to be in his late thirties or forties– too old.

“I just got some food too,” this man said, “the name’s Joe.”

Marcy and Joe each picked up their bags of food.

“So,” Joe said, “You want to eat together?”

“Um, I,, Uh--”

“See, my girlfriend, who I live with, is away and I’d love some company.”

Against all better judgement, Marcy said, “Sure.”

Joe and Marcy got into the elevator. Joe pressed 10 and said, “Come up to my place.”

Marcy nodded and looked again at this stranger. He seemed harmless and particularly because he was so old. He had blondish-brown hair and talked with a noticeable New York accent. He was fit except for a slight paunch. The elevator stopped on 10 and Joe led the way to his apartment, “This way.”

Once inside, Marcy saw that it was a small one bedroom. Joe cleared off the table in the center of the living room and said, “Take a seat.” He brought some plates out of the kitchen to the left and said, “Let’s eat.”

Marcy sat down and opened her bag. Joe took a seat next to her and opened his bag. Marcy took a bite of her bagel and looked around. There were women’s clothes in a walk in closet she could make out from where she was sitting.

 Joe caught her looking and said, “Well, she’s actually moving out -  my girlfriend – it’ over.”

Marcy nodded and suddenly really wanted to go home, “I’ve got to go,” she said.

“Where are you going, you haven’t even eaten much yet.”

“Yeah, well I have to get home and get ready for work.”

“It’s only 4am!”

Marcy got up and put her food back in the bag.”

“Hold up – I’ll go with you,” Joe said.

“That’s okay,” Marcy said, “I just need to get home.” She was feeling a bit uneasy now.

Marcy headed to the door, but Joe darted out in front of her. He grabbed her and kissed her. Marcy pulled away – but just as she headed out the door, Joe had gotten in front of her. Marcy got away and rang for the elevator.

She got into the elevator and pushed the “close door” button and just as the doors were closing Joe slipped in.  Marcy was really thinking there was something wrong with him now.

“What floor are you on?”

Marcy pushed the 7th floor and when the elevator stopped, she got out and walked quickly. Joe was right behind her.

She ran to the staircase and started to run down the stairs – Joe was following tightly behind, “Hey! Hey!” he called out, “I just want to spend some time with you!”

Marcy got out at the 4th floor and since she didn’t see Joe for a minute, she thought she was in the clear and then, with her keys in hand she opened the door to her apartment. Out of seemingly nowhere Joe slid right in.

***

Several hours later – at about 6am, Joe left Marcy’s apartment.

***

Marcy took a long shower and then got dressed. She bolted down her bagel and egg sandwich (now cold) and drank a Diet Coke she had in the fridge to wash it down. She decided what had happened had to be her fault – since she did go to his apartment to begin with. She felt nothing though and decided she would just try to forget.

She hailed a cab and went to work.

***

Work was uneventful and at about 3pm, Robert texted: “I hope you don’t have plans yet - Let’s do something fun for New Year’s.”

‘Okay,” Marcy wrote

“Then it’s a date,”

Marcy was about to say, no it’s not a date, but a plan – but she stopped herself and just texted, “Yes.”

Jackie went away for a week right before the holidays and she left Marcy in charge. Marcy had to admit she felt powerful in her new, yet temporary role.

On the first day that Jackie was gone, Marcy designed a boy’s sweat suit. She gave an original design of a cartoon little boy character graphic for Amy Moon to color. Amy was delighted, “This is so fun,” she said to Marcy, “Where did you find this?”

“I made it myself,” Marcy said.

“Wow, Jackie’s going to like this.”

“I hope so.”

Marcy designed the pants and sweatshirt with a working pocket on the sweatshirt and functioning pockets on the pants with a drawstring at the waistband. Marcy brought her design to the cutting room and one of the sewers, Janet got to work on it right away.

By the end of the day, the outfit was complete. Marcy stuck an acetate of the coloring Amy Moon had completed of her design on the sweatshirt and Voilà there it was. She hung up the outfit above her desk.

Over the next week, Marcy designed a boy’s tuxedo, a pair of corduroy pants with a checked blazer that had decals she designed on it and two more sweat suits with original designs meant to be embroidered. On the fifth day (Friday) before Jackie would be back, Harry stepped into their office and saw the clothing that Marcy had been busy making.

“We can’t afford to make this stuff –“ he  said. He then fingered the clothes and added, “But then again, if Jackie knows how to get the cost down, we could probably do a version of these in budget” He smiled,  “Nice work.”

Marcy was ecstatic.

Christmas was that weekend and because Marcy was Jewish, she didn’t celebrate. But she did have dinner with her friend Jill (also Jewish) at a customary Chinese restaurant on Christmas Eve. Marcy had met Jill at FIT and since Jill was a year older, she had graduated and was working as a Fashion Copywriter for Lou & Grey.

The following week, Jackie came back. Marcy got in at 9am that Monday and Jackie had already been in since 7:30am.

“You were busy while I was out. Did you get inspiration online?”

“No,” Marcy said, “Well not exactly, they are my designs.”

“I see.”

“Yes,” Marcy said, feeling unsure.

“You’re a budding Marc Jacobs, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“Well, I spoke to Harry and we will find a way to make these clothes. Thanks, Marcy.”

The rest of the week was busy with Jackie re-thinking the clothes Marcy had designed. She had Marcy make new patterns for the outfits without the working pockets and zippers and buttons. And, instead of embroideries, the clothes would have screen prints. Even with all these changes, Marcy felt great – it was a step in the right direction away from all the knock-offs.

That Friday was New Year’s Eve and Jill with her boyfriend, Chris and Robert and Marcy all went out to a movie downtown and dinner. They saw La La Land and had a delicious dinner at Boccado –a French bistro on the Upper East Side. Afterwards, since they were in Marcy’s neighborhood, they went to her apartment to watch the ball drop in Times Square on TV.

Right as they were all settling in to watch, there was a knock on the door.

Marcy answered. Joe was holding on to the doorframe thoroughly plastered.

“What do you want?” Marcy started shaking.

“Who is this?” Robert asked.

“I’m Joe,” the stranger said in a thick voice. “I know all about you, Marcy.” he slurred.

Jill and Chris were in the kitchen out of ear shot.

 Robert turned to Marcy and said, “Who is this guy?”

Marcy was shaking and said, “I don’t know--.”

“You’re shaking, Marcy -- do you want this guy out?”

“Yes,” Marcy said and without skipping a beat, she leaned over to Robert and kissed him. It was an impulse, but surprisingly she felt something.

After the kiss, Robert said, “Get the hell out of here!” to Joe.

“Or What?” Joe countered.

“Just get the hell OUT!! Or we’ll take this OUTSIDE!”

“Okay, okay, Man,” Joe slurred and slunk away down the hall.

Robert turned to Marcy and said, “Let’s never speak of him again.”

“Okay.” Marcy said, “Goodbye to that.”

“Yes, goodbye.”


Ellen Rosenbloom was born on an air force base in Clovis, New Mexico. She grew up in the Greater Metropolitan area and has spent a good deal of her life in New York City. Ellen has a BS from Skidmore College in Fine Art and an MFA in Creative Writing from the New School. She has written a novel (Portrait of Her), a novella (Angels in the Bathtub) and many stories and poems. Her work has appeared in many literary websites, journals and magazines. She currently lives in NYC with her favorite person, her husband Adam.

POETRY / Runners / Hayley Stoddard

FICTION / The Life And Death of Aunt Martha / Arthur Davis

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