by Cate Remy
“Harry Kline. Nice to meet you, Jackson. Sorry to hear about your uncle.”
“Thank you. It was a shock.” Jackson took a seat across from them in the booth. The waiter came by and took his drink order of iced tea.
“My client has a photo shoot this afternoon. We can’t stay long.”
Jackson got the message loud and clear. He set his menu aside. “Let’s get down to business then.”
Miss Nia sipped a Cosmopolitan. Her agent did the talking. “As you know, my client is world-famous. She just came off a tour in the Japan for the re-release of her classic Love Costs Nothing album.”
“I remember that album. It was on repeat in my stereo while I was studying for the bar exam.”
Miss Nia made a face while she slurped down an oyster. “My album can’t be that old.”
Jackson wondered if she remembered her age when she recorded the album. “What can I do for you?”
Harry answered for her. “My client has received multiple offers from other record execs, but she wants to do an exclusive with Georgie Peach because she’s from Atlanta.”
“I like the idea. Are we talking about a song, an album?”
“We’ll start with a single, then an album with completely new material.”
“Great. You’ll have to come by so we can hear her in the studio.”
“There’s one thing. Georgie Peach currently has a young singer signed on named Aria. Since there can only be one true diva…” Harry paused to nod in his client’s direction. “We’d be willing to sign with Georgie Peach in exchange for Aria’s exit.”
Jackson stared at the two of them across the table. “You want us to kill a contract with a multiplatinum artist in order to sign Nia?”
“Miss Nia,” the singer corrected. “And yes. I sell platinum records, too.”
“You do, Miss Nia.” Jackson took a drink of his iced tea when the waiter brought it to the table. “Your last one went platinum twelve years ago. We’d love to have you on board with us, but not at Aria’s expense.”
Harry put both hands on the table. “She’s an upstart. We all know Aria is a passing fad. Miss Nia is the tried and true blue real deal.”
Jackson noted the many rhyming words. “Were you a songwriter before you became an agent?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Listen, Aria’s an excellent artist.” He reached for a breadstick in the basket next to the oysters. “As I said, we can sign Miss Nia, too, but Aria will remain with us.”
Miss Nia lifted her Cosmo and took a delicate sip. “I think we’re done here, Harry.”
Her agent slipped out of the booth. “Miss Nia’s comeback is going to be huge. You’re missing out on the biggest opportunity of your career, Jackson.”
His client slid out of the booth next. She sidled past Jackson in a swath of sequined cashmere and strong perfume. “Not nice meeting you.” She set her half-finished Cosmo on the table and used one long red fingernail to tip the glass forward, right on Jackson’s shirt.
“Are you kidding me?” He stood up as cranberry juice and vodka ran down the front of his shirt towards his belt. Restaurant patrons turned to see what was going on. A server rushed to him with a napkin.
“Sir, can I get you anything?”
“Not unless it’s a dry cleaner who can clean this mess up in the next thirty minutes.” He dabbed at the shirt, but the fabric was stained. He set the napkin on the table. “Looks like my companions are skipping out on lunch.”
The server scratched his chin. “They didn’t exactly pay for their drinks and oysters.”
Jackson took out his wallet and put a couple bills on the table. “That should cover it. Now I just need something to cover the front of my shirt.” He put on his coat to go to his car outside.
“Back to Georgie Peach?” asked the driver.
Jackson had an afternoon meeting at one-thirty. He couldn’t go into the office looking and smelling like he went to a frat party during his lunch break. His suit jacket wasn’t going to cover it up, and he couldn’t sit at his desk in a wool coat all day. “Take me somewhere to get a new dress shirt.”
“There’s Darcy’s at the mall.”
“Whatever works. I’ll just have to deal with Christmas shoppers early this year.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Barnes.” The driver headed to their new destination.
Chapter 4
Brie finished folding the men’s cashmere sweaters the lunch hour crowd of shoppers left in complete disarray. This was the third time this morning she had to do it. By the end of her shift this afternoon, she was certain she’d set a new record.
“Brie, can you put these ties on the rack?” Her supervisor came to where she was setting the sweaters on the display table. “I just scanned them in inventory. They’re seasonal and need to be on display now.”
She left the last pile of sweaters to go about her new task. Five minutes into sorting ties into groups of Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph, and a weird elf face, she saw a male customer out of the corner of her eye. Judging by his movements, he looked a little confused by all the extra Christmas merchandise. “Can I help you?”
“I need a-hey. I know you.”
Brie looked up from the tie rack to see Jackson standing by a suited mannequin. He matched it for height and classic good looks.
“I didn’t know you worked in the men’s department at Darcy’s,” he said. His coat was buttoned all the way up to his neck. What was that smell? It smelled like fruit and…vodka?
“I’m usually in the shoe department, but we’re so busy this time of year I go wherever I’m needed. Were you looking for something in particular?”
He looked around the general area before dropping his voice low. “This is embarrassing, but I’m going to need to purchase a shirt and tie and wear them out of the store.” He unbuttoned his coat to reveal a pink stain down the front of his white dress shirt.
“Wow.” Brie left the tie rack to walk towards him. The scent of alcohol got stronger. “You’ve been spilling a lot of drinks lately.”
He closed his coat. “I didn’t spill this one. Someone got mad at me enough to waste a perfectly good Cosmopolitan.”
“I see.” She imagined a scenario in her head. “Must have been a bad lunch date.”
“It was a business lunch. I have less than twenty minutes to get back to work.”
“Tell me what size you wear and I’ll get some dress shirts for you to try on.”
After he told her, she went to the men’s business section to see what kinds of dress shirts were available in his size. She got nervous as she flipped through racks of shirts in different colors and patterns. Jackson was tall, so she made sure to grab shirts with longer hems. She forgot to ask whether he liked a European or American cut.
Brie pulled three options from the rack, all white in varying price ranges. He could choose what he wanted to spend. She brought the shirts to where he waited outside of the men’s fitting room. “I’ll be at the tie rack when you’re done.”
“I’ll need one of those, too.” He carried the shirts in the fitting room.
Brie spent the time putting the ties on the rack. She discovered a Santa necktie among the elves. She set it aside to put on a different rack later.
“What do you think?”
She turned around to see the shirt Jackson chose. He went for the European cut. The slimmer fit hung nicely across his shoulders and trim, V-shaped torso. “Good choice. It’s fresh and contemporary.”
“Is that you’re way of saying it’ll help me not look too stodgy?”
She laughed. “Why would you think that?”
“My new workplace has a, I don’t know, freer dress code than what I’m used to.”
“You know what you need? A quirky tie to go with your spiffy new shirt.” She held up a Rudolph tie. “How about it?”
Jackson gave it a frown. “It looks like it would go better with a button down and an ugly Christmas sweater.”
“We have those, too.�
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Her comment made him smile. Brie got a warm, fuzzy sensation along her arms and her neck when she saw that the smile reached his sky blue eyes. “What color tie do you want?”
“Actually, you sold me on one of the Christmas-themed ones. I’m feeling ironic today.”
“Do you want Rudolph or Frosty?”
“The lone Santa behind you.”
She took it off the rack. “I’ll cut the tag off since you’re going to wear it now.”
She went over to the cashier counter and reached beneath the cash register for a pair of scissors. Brie rang up the tie before she removed the tag. “I need the tag on your shirt, too.”
He held out his arm for her to scan the tag attached to the cuff before she removed it. She processed his credit card while he put the tie around his neck. His last name was Barnes.
“How do you tie this without making Santa’s hat fold into the knot?”
“Here. I’ll help.” She motioned for him to come forward. He leaned in, his face several inches from hers. Brie paused as she stared into his eyes. Wait, what am I doing?
Her fingers managed to find both ends of the necktie. She lowered her gaze to start forming a knot without losing Santa’s hat. She felt more warm fuzzies because he was so close.
“You’re good at this.”
“Darcy’s makes us pass a test to work in certain departments. For men’s we learn to tie neckties.” She lifted her eyes in time to see his hair fall over his brow. Her fingers stopped on their own, as if they wanted to push his hair back in place. She quickly focused again on the tie. He was extremely good-looking. She liked the way the grey at his temples gave his face character. Her fingers grazed his neck. “Looks like you missed a button.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the line about missing my head if it weren’t attached to my neck.”
She worked on straightening the tie in place. “A scatterbrained attorney? I find that hard to believe.”
“Clearly, you haven’t seen people in my line of work.”
“All done.” She patted Santa’s hat on his tie. Her inward self cringed. What had gotten into her? She thought of something light to say in case he noticed the weird gesture she made. “Everyone at work will see your tie and admire your sense of humor.”
He stood straight again. “Thanks for helping me with a shirt and tie.”
“You’re welcome.” She noticed his other shirt in a wrinkled pile on the counter. “Do you want a bag for your vodka shirt?”
“Yes, please. I hate to cut this short, but I need to run.”
She folded it and handed it to him in a cheery gold Darcy’s holiday bag. “See you later.”
He took the bag, but didn’t step away from the counter. “Actually, I was going to ask if you’d like to have dinner. You know, as thanks for helping me find a new shirt and not laughing about karma getting back at me for spilling coffee on your hand.”
Was he asking her out on a date? Brie rubbed her cheek. Either blood was rushing to her skin’s surface because she was blushing or she really shouldn’t have sampled that face cream at the makeup counter this morning. “It was almond milk foam, not coffee.”
“I’ll get it right one day. So, dinner? Seven? Saturday?” He took a step backwards with each question.
“Where do you want to eat?”
“Some place that doesn’t serve Cosmos.”
“How about Porky’s Barbecue Pit? It’s across the street from Jumpy Java.”
“Great. Meet you there?” He got farther and farther away.
“Yes. You’re going to bump into that mannequin.”
He stopped just in time to avoid a nasty collision. He waved goodbye before the store’s Christmas trees made him disappear from view.
On Saturday night, Brie rummaged through her bedroom closet for a pair of boots to wear out to dinner with Jackson. Was it dinner, or more of a date? Barbecue was casual, so it couldn’t be a date. Besides, didn’t he say this was thanks for helping him pick out a new dress shirt?
She unearthed a box at the floor of the closet, buried beneath a forgotten pile of Kianna’s sweaters she intended to donate after her daughter had outgrown them last year. The box contained a pair of brown leather boots she bought back when she first moved from Delaware.
“Mommy, what are you doing?”
Brie looked behind to see her daughter entered her bedroom. Kianna tilted her head to look down at her, confused.
“Why are you sitting on the closet floor in a pile of my old sweaters?”
“I was looking for my boots to wear tonight. It’s supposed to be cold.” While Brie was seated, she put the boots on and zipped them up over her jeans.
“The newsman said it might snow.” Kianna wiggled her hands in excitement.
“You don’t want that yet. You have basketball practice tonight.”
“I can’t find my jersey.”
Brie remembered she put it in with the laundry this morning. “I think it’s still in the dryer. Let’s go look.” She crawled out of the dark closet and glanced at her reflection in the mirror on the door. The green sweater she picked out went well with her jeans and brown boots. She was tempted to wear her red knit scarf, but she didn’t want to go out looking too Christmasey.
Says the woman who sold a Santa tie to an attorney. She chided herself while still wondering how that novelty tie went over with his co-workers when Jackson returned to his office. He didn’t seem to take himself too seriously the way she saw other lawyers and business professionals who came into the department store. She liked that, and how warm his smile was when he joked with her. Brie recalled how close his face was to hers when she helped him with his tie.
“Mommy, we’re going to be late.” Kianna pointed to the digital alarm clock on the bedside table.
Brie gasped. She had less than an hour to take her daughter to practice and meet Jackson at Porky’s. “Let’s find your jersey.”
Seventeen minutes later, after fishing for the jersey in the dryer and making sure Kianna had everything she needed in her sports bag, Brie got her daughter into the van. She secured her in and then pushed the manual ramp back inside and shut the door.
The drive to the Peachtree Kiddos Recreation Center took another twenty minutes. Evening traffic was pretty light for the time being. Brie knew soon the Christmas shoppers would be out in full force. She parked in a handicap accessible spot at the rec center and got her daughter inside from the cold.
Kianna’s wheelchair basketball coach greeted her when they arrived in the gym. “You ready for drills, Kianna?”
“Yep, Coach Dee.”
Coach Dee began to help Kianna into a special wheelchair that had angled wheels for safe, smoother turns on the basketball court. She took a look at Brie’s feet. “Nice boots.”
“Thanks. I’ve had them for a while.”
“It’s a good night for them. It’s supposed to be cold.”
“I’ll be back at eight-thirty to get Kianna.”
“Actually, we’re having a little Christmas party for the kids. You can be back closer to nine.”
“You hear that, Kianna? A party.”
Her daughter paid her no mind as she maneuvered her basketball wheelchair onto the court, excited to meet friends.
Brie set her daughter’s bag on the first row of bleachers along with those of the other children there for wheelchair basketball and set out to her next destination to meet Jackson. It was a quarter to seven. She hoped she wasn’t going to be late.
Chapter 5
Brie arrived on Peachtree Boulevard five minutes past seven. She parked her van in an empty spot across the street from Porky’s Barbecue Pit. It occurred to her that she and Jackson never exchanged numbers before agreeing to have dinner. What if he waited for a little bit, thought she wasn’t coming, and then left?
She broke into a light jog to get across the street. The delicious smell of smoked meat wafted out from Porky’s. Already a line formed to get in. Brie stood on her
tiptoes to see if Jackson was in line. Somebody waved at her. She followed the movement and saw Jackson standing next to a crowded bench.
“Hi.” He had one of those glowing restaurant pagers in his hand. He gave her appearance a casual sweep. “Nice boots.”
She thanked him. “I like your casual look.”
“Oh, good.” He glanced down at his jeans, brown leather jacket, and red flannel shirt. “I saw something similar on a Darcy’s commercial and thought I’d try to copy it.”
“You know what the commercial says. ‘This season is mad for plaid’.” She removed her beret. “I didn’t mean to be late. I took my daughter to her basketball practice.”
“Don’t worry. The host says it’s going to be another ten minutes before we can get a table.” No sooner did he finish speaking, the restaurant pager went spastic in his hands. “Never mind.”
She followed him and the host to their table. Brie enjoyed the casual vibe of the restaurant whenever she came to fulfill her craving for barbecue. Tonight the place was crowded and loud.
“Is this too much?” Jackson asked once they were seated. “We can go someplace else.”
“No, I like to see people out enjoying themselves.” She declined the menu offered by the server. “Can I have a Dr. Pepper and the rib and pulled pork special?”
“Absolutely. And for you, sir?”
Jackson looked through the menu. “I’ll have the same. Sub a Coke for Dr. Pepper.”
“Dem’s fighting words.” Brie joked once the server left. “Hope you don’t mind I ordered right away. It looks like the food could be a while.”
“That’s probably a good idea. So you come here often? That’s not a pickup line, by the way.” He wore that half-smile again as he looked at her from across the table. Tonight, he had stubble along his jaw. It gave his chiseled face an attractive, rugged appearance.
“I like to get takeout sometimes. I discovered Porky’s when I first moved down here from Delaware ten years ago.”
“What brought you to Atlanta?”
The server came back and set down their drinks before disappearing. Brie took her time tearing the remaining paper off her straw. “I came to Atlanta to enter a singing contest.”
