I can make you Editor and Chief…’ All I heard was Editor and Chief and my heart pounded out of my chest. ‘I’m going to be Editor and Chief of ...he Tribune?’ My mother broke out in hysterical laughter. My father leaned back in his seat and reached into his pants pocket, pulls out a one hundred dollar bill and hands it to my mother. ‘I told you, I know my child.’ ‘What was that about?’ I asked. ‘Your mother bet me, you would think I was going to make you Editor of the Tribune.’ He leaned forward. Instead of reporting to work athis normal company, he drove to C.P.F. and with a little help from a forgedID card, he got in. What he saw was strange. Instead of designers working atcomputers designing clothes, he found small tables, each with twodesigner-looking people and a young child--some boys and some girls--who wasbeing measured, prodded, poked, and made to try on various new designs. Thedesigners were carefully taking notes."So this is how they do it," Jordan mused. But before he could. A ballroom of some sort, that sounded right for this fucking family. I fumbled for a light switch but failed to find anything, so I pulled out my phone and turned the light on, casting it around the room in a wide arc. It took me a second to process what I was seeing, and when I did I staggered backwards. It looked like a bunch of furniture storage at first, a jumble of irregular shapes, some draped with tarps. But as my eyes adjusted I realized that one of the things I was looking at was a. When four ticked around people started heading off, but I was engrossed my work, or so they thought. For a moment it looked like my plans were going to go up in smoke when my boss was still at his desk at four thirty, but I let out a silent sigh of relief when he grabbed his coat and left. I sat nervously waiting until I heard the door open behind me, I turned and there she was. She had her black knee length boots on again but no leggings this time. Even wearing the pale blue tabard of the.