Planned to Perfection

by Roxanne Tully

  Scott picked up the receiver when Donovan left the room.

  “Dean. I’m impressed and have to admit, I was a bit skeptical.”

  “Scott, you can trust my team. We’re prepared for any task.”

  Scott chuckled. “I hope you don’t make promises like that in writing.” He shifted his weight. “Who’d you assign this to anyway? I’m surprised one of your best was available on short notice.”

  There was a pause on the other end which normally would set off red flags for Scott. Hesitation was easily spotted in his line of business.

  “Elle Rybeck,” Dean said flatly.

  Scott considered himself to be a great businessman, and after nearly thousands of business meetings, he’d learned to read people very well. Reading a change in tone by phone was elementary to him, especially in someone as vulnerable as Dean Levy. If the guy didn’t sound so suspicious, Scott probably wouldn’t have given it a second thought. He did a quick mental scan of the short list of employees.

  “Rybeck? I don’t remember seeing her on your payroll from two weeks ago. She another partner?”

  “No, no. It’s just me and Starr Howard. But Elle...Elle is terrific, Scott, she’s a great asset, really. You won’t be disappointed.”

  Scott stood silent, leaning on Donovan’s desk. He glared into the space in front of him; almost as if Dean were five feet away from him rather than on the phone, waiting for a better answer, which he’d better get in the next three seconds.

  “She’s new, Scott,” Dean admitted with a sigh the deafening silence.

  “You’ve worked with her in the past?” Scott asked calmly after a short second passed.

  “No but I’ve seen her work. We don’t hire amateurs, Scott.”

  “You shouldn’t be hiring at all, Dean. This is exactly what we discussed at your office last week.”

  “I’ve been copied on nearly all communication and receive hourly updates on this event.” Dean took a breath. “I wouldn’t have given her the job if I didn’t think she could handle it, Scott.”

  Scott gritted his teeth and took a breath himself. He hated when he said things that sounded like his old boss. “There was no room for her on your payroll, Dean,” he paused. “If this doesn’t go smoothly, I imagine you’ll take care of that problem on Monday.”

  Chapter 3

  Elle

  Elle pulled out the black evening gown that she wore to all her fancy events.

  The client, Donovan Hayes, had insisted that he didn’t want for this to appear like a production to his wife or guests. Dean said this was a popular request from clients of his stature. They never wanted it to seem as if they were trying too hard. Donovan’s assistant said they didn’t want to see anyone but the caterers on the floor. No security, no venue staff, and definitely no planners walking around with an ear piece telling someone to refill the vodka on table three.

  That wouldn’t be a problem. That kind of visibility wasn’t Elle’s style. She had a special way of blending in with the crowd, which included the Armani dress which she’d invested in a few years back for such occasions.

  The gown had been pre-rigged when she wore it to an Oscar party. One of the laced-in flowers was slighted trimmed on top to allow enough room for a crazy glue stick and some safety pins. She also sewed in a pocket covered with a chiffon drape which typically carried a small white-out stick that was held in a silver lipstick compartment and, of course, actual lipstick.

  As certain mishaps became more regular at events, she learned the items she’d need to make room for in her go-to gown and the small purse she’d carry. Unfortunately, her purse only had room for both cell phones and the event’s contact list.

  She ran down her list of ‘Day-Of’ follow ups, confirmed arrival times for vendors and checked in with Starr and Dean as well as Donovan’s assistant.

  The Square Landing was a beautiful venue to hold an anniversary party. It was just off the Hudson River pier, shaped like a yacht, but built on the ground. The entry way was already lit up with hidden tree lights, even though the sun hadn’t set quite yet. There was a mock ramp lined with red rope and a doorman dressed as a captain of a ship standing guard.

  Elle introduced herself before walking in. She handed him a card with her number in case there was a problem with the guest list.

  Inside, the cabin-like lobby was dark with low ceilings. There was a small stairway that led down to the lounge, rest rooms, dressing rooms and the kitchen.

  Elle arrived exactly two hours before the start time indicated on the invitation. After storing her garment bag in one of the dressing rooms reserved for staff, she grabbed her clipboard and cell phone and headed to her first check in.

  The kitchen was immense. There were two large aisles with at least six cooks and the head chef she’d been in contact with. She spotted Frank, the caterer coordinator who was tasting one of the pastries and smiling at one of the female cooks, and approached him.

  “Hi Frank,” she greeted the man who’d she’d met on Friday to discuss details with.

  “Elle, you’re here early.”

  “Why what’s wrong?” she asked immediately.

  “Nothing. That’s good,” the short man with slick black hair stepped back and put his hands up. “Chill girl, we got this.”

  Elle rolled her eyes, and held out the menu to him. “I need you to confirm everything on this list and initial here, please.”

  Frank took the menu and scanned it. A second longer and Elle would start freaking. He finally initialed and handed it back to her. “We’re good,” he said before turning back to the blond assistant, filling the pastries.

  Elle dug into her pocket and tapped him on the shoulder.

  Frank turned back, irritated. “What?”

  “I won’t hesitate to leave you a terrible review and put you on the ‘do not hire’ list at our firm if you continue to be difficult throughout the night.” She handed him an earpiece. “Put this on, keep it on and please don’t delay any responses,” she huffed out before walking over to the head chef to check in. Paul was a much more pleasant person to interact with. He was direct, honest and took his work seriously—much like herself.

  “Keep it on mute unless you need to respond or ask me something,” Elle had instructed after handing an earpiece to the head of security.

  There was some commotion upstairs and Elle noted that guests weren’t supposed to start arriving for another hour. She glanced down at her black slacks and gray pullover and decided to take a sneak upstairs to see who it was.

  “Dude, I told you back at the studio, you don’t hold a camera like that.” Shawn, her slimy and deceitful ex stepped away from his equipment to carefully adjust his friends’ hands around the expensive piece.

  Shawn spotted Elle. “If he drops and cracks my lens, you’re paying for it,” he threatened, pointing a sharp finger at her.

  Danny, a lanky red-head who looked like he might have been in his seventh year in college, looked up from his camera. “Hey, there’s no film in this,” Danny complained.

  “And there won’t be,” Shawn shot back. Shaking his head, he quietly said. “Should’ve handed him a fake.”

  “Please figure this out before anyone gets here,” she tossed Shawn an earpiece which he caught while eyeing Elle’s outfit. Her ex-boyfriend didn’t need the rundown on how to use the device. This wasn’t their first job together. But she was sincerely hoping it would be the last.

  “Is that what you’re wearing?”

  “Of course not,” she snapped and turned to head back downstairs to change.

  At exactly seven o’clock, the doors to the ballroom opened and a small group of elegantly attired elders strolled in. Not many of whom seemed to be surveying the opulently decorated room. Elle, now standing three inches taller, patted down her extra-long evening gown, flipped her carefully styled waves over her ear to cover the earpiece and slipped out of sight.

  Two hours later, she breathed a sigh of relief as the toasts and dinne
r had gone without a hitch and all that was left was dessert and handling any drunken stragglers.

  There was always at least one of those at every party.

  She quickly shot out a text to Dean to let him know all was going well and she’d check in again in an hour.

  Quickly emerging from the secret back door, which had a narrow stairwell to the downstairs; Elle did her casual walk-through near the band, eying the desserts being put out. There were a handful of them that the hosts had requested, and she did a quick scan to ensure they were all there. She told the Chef he could get creative with the rest.

  Elle frowned and quickly tapped her earpiece. “Frank, what’s the red object on the white chocolate mousse pastries?”

  Please tell me they’re cherries, please tell me they’re cherries.

  “A drop of blood, what do you think it is? They’re raspberries.”

  Elle hid behind a stage curtain. “Raspberries? You mean the one ingredient I asked not to be used?” Elle spat out. Her face burned as she watched the guests approaching the desserts.

  “Where does it say that?”

  Elle heard paper shuffling on the other end of the conversation.

  “Frank, Elaine Hayes is deathly allergic, and this was one of her husband’s dessert requests because it’s her favorite!”

  “Hold on.”

  Hold on? There was no time to hold on. A moment later she heard more shuffling and arguing in the background.

  “Elle, this is Paul, it seems someone wasn’t paying attention.” Paul sounded as if he was gritting his teeth at someone in his kitchen. “Listen I can send someone to pick up the platter.”

  “You can’t, they’ve already been laid out—it will look like something went wrong and I can’t have that.”

  “Elle what’s the big deal, just take it off the floor,” Shawn suggested. She forgot that everyone she’d given the earpiece to could hear the conversation.

  “You take one thing off the floor, people will notice and think that something is wrong in the kitchen, and they’ll question all the other table items. Not only that, I know Donovan’s assistant is here somewhere watching and I can’t have anything go wrong or questioned.”

  “Shoulda guessed,” Shawn said before clicking off.

  Elle ignored the passive-aggressive slight and moved on. “Thanks Paul, I’ll just take care of it myself,” Elle muted her mic and reached into her purse. She pulled out a small thank you card and scribbled a short congratulations and thank you for your business note.

  The guests of honor were on the dance floor and barely approached their table since the desserts had been put out. It should be an easy trade off.

  Chapter 4

  Scott

  “Gotta hand it to your buddy, there Westy,” Donovan stepped away from a nearby guest and approached Scott. His head slightly cocked to one side and a glass of scotch in his right hand. His old boss nearly stumbled as if what they were on had been an actual moving boat rather than a stationed façade.

  “Don’t call me that,” Scott muttered for the fortieth time in the ten years they’d known each other. It’s a name that Scott had refused to let himself get used to every time Donovan had a few drinks.

  Scott was still eyeing the venue, staff and overall timing of the event. He looked for anything that might appear sloppy; a miscount in chairs, delays in food preparations, and given the time crunch to put this whole thing together; any indication that something was planned with little effort. If Donovan felt shortchanged in the least, Scott would never hear the end of it.

  He hated feeling like he was working, but he needed this to go well. Saving the firm that put this together was important to him. He needed another cause-worthy investment. Somehow, he’d trailed off from his focus on saving firms that built an honest business and cared about what they offer to the public.

  If anything were to go wrong tonight, he’d have to pull out. He didn’t favor being harsh on struggling businesses he invested in, but he couldn’t risk an ‘easy-going’ reputation. And he most certainly wouldn’t be taken for a fool.

  Not to mention Donovan would start to question his judgment and second guess tipping him off on worthy opportunities.

  “Oh, lighten up. You drinking enough?”

  “Just this one.” Scott held up his near empty rocks glass.

  Donovan shook his head. “Would you stop working?” His friend leaned into him. “There are about half a dozen women that have been eying you all night. Just look around, they’re easy to spot.”

  Scott didn’t bother and looked down at Donovan. “Oh? And how would you know?”

  “Cause I’ve been eying them,” his friend shrugged with no shame.

  Thanks, but I’ll pass tonight.

  The type of women Scott would meet through work-related events were hardly of interest to him. He’d entertained the occasional model or business associate, so long as they weren’t in close connections. The types who didn’t expect anything but one to two nights tops. He’d rarely met anyone who was worth more than a fraction of his time. His work was everything and wasted time was costly. No one could say he didn’t try. But most of the time, these dames wouldn’t spark a damn thing—well, not where it counted.

  With that thought, he turned to once again scan the hundred somewhat guests to see if he could spot her again—the woman in the long black lace dress. Every time he saw her, she seemed to be looking for someone or steering clear of something. Scott laughed to himself. It wouldn’t be the first time at one of these shindig’s, he’d seen someone trying to avoid an old flame.

  There she was again.

  This time she walked by, smiling politely at a few folks and headed straight for the guests of honors’ table. She glanced around before her slender frame leaned to place something in front of Elaine’s plate. Her dark silky waves draped slightly over her shoulders before she stood and flipped them back.

  She was stunning.

  But it wasn’t quite her attire or make up that chained his attention to her every time she appeared. It was something he couldn’t place. Was it her eyes? He couldn’t see their color from the distance, but the innocence in them, one could see from way across the ballroom. Or was it her high rosy cheekbones that made their way to the corners of her eyes every time she feigned a smile at another guest? Something about her made it impossible for him to look away.

  Before he knew it, he stood about a foot away from Elaine’s chair, where the mystery woman still lingered. She turned somewhat in a hurry and jumped when she noticed Scott standing there, watching her. The woman brushed the sides of her dress down and picked up her purse, raising her head slightly.

  “Hello,” she greeted.

  “Hi there. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You just caught my curiosity.”

  She stood straighter and lifted her head even more, as if to prove confidence. Scott knew the move all too well. “Not at all, I was just sneaking in a quick note for M—Elaine.” Her cheeks blushed and she beamed a brilliant white, yet nervous smile. “I don’t see her so I wanted to congratulate the couple before I head out.”

  “Scott Weston.” He held out his hand.

  She looked down at her hand, which appeared to be holding a crumpled up black cocktail napkin. She switched it to her other hand before taking his.

  “Sorry...sticky,” she held up the hand apologetically.

  He nodded and smirked.

  “Um...Isabel.”

  Scott didn’t mind her leaving out a last name. Not everyone introduced themselves as if they were someone the other person should know. He let out a soft chuckle.

  Isabel glanced around questionably. “Do I not look like an Isabel?”

  “No, no, it’s just...well a few years ago, maybe ten, I went to a gala where some supposedly famous reality show singer made an appearance. I introduced myself as just Scott, and when the singer guy shook my hand, he said his full name.” He tilted his head to the side and rolled his eyes, “Now, yes
I knew who he was, but I remember thinking, geez who does that?” Scott placed his hands in his pocket and nodded his head slowly. “He was really full of himself.”

  Isabel laughed a beautiful gentle—and genuine laugh. “Clearly you learned never to be that guy.”

  He held out his hand to her once again. “Just Scott.”

  Holding a wide grin, as if she couldn’t help it, she took his hand with a firm grip and nodded, “Still just Isabel.”

  For the life of him, he couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, he had heard a woman laugh and smile with so much life and sincerity behind it. It was refreshing. No. It was breathtaking. He gave her a crooked smile, trying to regain his usual composure and charm; not entirely sure how he’d lost it to begin with. “Who are you here with?” He immediately wanted to shake his head at the stupid question.

  “No one in particular,” she said as if she was distracted. She held on to the black napkin.

  “Do you want me to get rid of that for you?”

  Her hand shot to her ear for a brief moment and he thought she’d pull her hair back, but she simply set her hand back down. She cleared her throat. “I’m sure someone will be around shortly to collect the trash. I’ll just hold on to it till then.” She rubbed on her ear again.

  “Where are you seated?” Scott glanced around the room.

  She followed his scan of the floor and seemed to tense up for a moment. Then she looked back at him and smiled. “Right now, nowhere since I need to be going.” She stepped off the podium and nearly tripped on her heel. He reached out and caught her by the waist.

  Though light as a feather and pulling her to her feet was seamless, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he fell along side with her. Regardless of how anything but graceful the woman was, something about her was magnetic.

  At that moment a penguin attired waiter appeared before them with an empty silver tray.

  “May I take that for you, ma’am?” the man offered.