by Suzanne Hart
I smiled and took my place. They all started, waiting for me to sit down, before they made their moves.
“How was your morning, James?”
With the way that my stomach rolled, the mere thought of alcohol of any kind made me want to vomit. I bypassed the whiskey and went straight for the glass of water. “Good.”
My uncle nodded slowly. “All right,” He said, opening the leather portfolio sitting in front of him. There were identical copies of it in front of every other person sitting at that table.
“So, I’m just going to get right into it.”
I nodded, “Great.”
“James’s resume is impressive.” He was not speaking to me any longer, but mostly to his other directors.
My heart thumped a little lighter, excited.
“He was bred by the best private schools LA has to offer. Then, went on to become a Rhodes Scholar, one of only a few in the world, and then graduated from Wharton as a valedictorian. Aside from that, he has the background, with both of his parents, my brother…” He stopped to clear his throat at that.
I gulped, banishing the mere thought of my father out of my head.
“….Anyway. There are several good reasons why you are a finalist in this entire process. You have exceeded your parents’ expectations, my expectations, and been invaluable in furthering the family name. You have even managed to build a small fortune for yourself at the tender age of 28.”
Even though this all sounded so great, I could feel a “but” coming.
“But there is really only one reason why you won’t be taking my place as the head of the company.”
I blinked, trying to ignore the way my mouth went completely dry. “What?” The word slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
My uncle’s chest rose and fell with a calm breath before he continued with, “You understand that Paris Inc as a concept, an institution, has been around for over a century. You understand that even though we have been public for nearly six decades, we have done well to keep the majority of the stake and control within the family. But even in that, we are careful about who gets the company. My great-grandfather started this internal application process and it was for the reason that we can ensure that only the best suited individual gains control of one of the most powerful holdings companies in advertising. You have one flaw. It may seem small to you, but we have been in this game for decades, and we can ensure you that it is not.”
At this point, I had practically sweat all the way through under my shirt. “Okay?”
“You are a bachelor.”
My eyes widened. “What does that have anything to do with- …”
But he raised his hand. “Please.” In the silence, he continued, “When you take control of this company, you will be dating, looking for a wife, or not looking for anything at all. You will become one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. Women will take advantage of you and so will the media. An unsuitable or an even less than suitable match for marriage could affect our business. I don’t need to tell an intelligent, learned man like you that this is true. I’m sure you know what I mean…” He continued on, lecturing me about appearances, but my mind drifted away. I tried not to think about my parents sitting on that very board themselves, but they came to mind. I had promised I would continue their legacy, promised that I would do the work they couldn’t finish. I had gotten so close. I was staring at success, victory, right in the face, and it had eluded me. What? Why? Because I was single? I couldn’t let that stop me. I wasn’t going to let that stop me.
My heart was thudding in my chest, pounding in my ears, sending nervous blood all around my body, when he said, “I trust that you understand what I am saying?”
And I answered. “Yes. Yes I do. That’s why I neglected to tell you…”
Every eye on that board was on me. “Neglected to tell me what?” My uncle asked
“That I am… engaged.” My voice had a hard time wrapping itself around that word. I was never a good liar. I did my job with as little fibs as possible. It was part of the reason why I had such a loyal client list.
His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You don’t say…”
“I’m uh…” I sucked in a breath. “Sorry, it was supposed to be a surprise.”
“For the reunion?”
I nodded. “I wanted to introduce her to the family there. I’ve been keeping it quiet because I didn’t want it to affect this.”
My uncle nodded, his lips pursed in thought. “Hmm… It is admirable. I suppose… That you managed to keep something out of the public eye.”
I could barely breathe as I watched him mull over the lie.
He then exchanged glances with Mark Harris, a man sitting just at his right, who was the CEO of the company. “I have to say, I’m just gonna be honest with you. That is a relief.”
I sighed. I was in. I couldn’t believe it. I was actually in. I was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
My uncle continued, “I wanted you to win the bid. Trust me, I did. This was the only thing. But now that you’ve cleared that up…” I glanced around the table. “I would like to formally ask you to take my place as head of Paris Inc, effective this September.”
My eyes widened. I stood up with him and the rest of the board. “Thank you.” My throat was as dry as a desert.
My uncle let out a dry laugh. “No, thank you.” His thin lips curled into a smile. “I’ve been waiting for someone like you to relieve me for quite a while. The warm sun of southern Italy is calling.”
I nodded. “Of course. I won’t disappoint you.”
He gestured at the men standing around the table. “You’ll have them to answer to.”
I let out a nervous laugh as I took the last gulp of the water sitting in front of my seat. I walked towards the door.
“Oh, and James?” My uncle spoke, stopping me in my tracks. I turned to stare at him. “Yes?”
“Don’t ever keep something like this from me ever again.”
I gulped at the severity of his voice. I left the conference room, walked through the doors, down the hallway and to the elevators. It was only when the doors were sliding shut in front of me that the gravity of my lie came crashing down.
4
Nancy
I was late. This was basically the story of my life; chasing the clock, always a step away from where I wanted to be. I drove into the small parking lot outside the club, just as the sun was setting, and cut my engine. I climbed out, slammed the old door, popped open my trunk and grabbed my dance bag. I had just gotten through the side door and was running down the underground passageway when I could feel my phone vibrate. A smile played at my lips as I slowed down just enough to take my iPhone 4 out of my back pocket. I stabbed at the cracked screen, answering the unknown caller. After a whole week, it was about time James rang me.
But the voice on the other end was not his. “Hello, Ms. Abrams?”
My heart skipped a beat. I stopped walking, my dance bag slipping off my shoulder and down to the ground. It was Sherry. “Yes? Yes?”
“Hello, hi!”
She sounded so light-hearted. Did that mean…
“Do you have an answer?”
“Uh, yes.” She said. “That’s exactly why I’m calling. So, I went through your finances again, and I had someone else take a look. Just in case. I know how much you would like to have this studio.”
“And?” I could barely talk around the lump that had lodged itself in my throat.
“And we just don’t find you an attractive investment.”
I swallowed, but the lump stayed there. “What do you mean?”
Her voice dropped a little. “You just… you don’t have the collateral necessary for this kind of commitment.”
I shook my head, my eyes burning. “No. No that’s unacceptable. You can’t- …”
“I’ve really done everything I can.”
“But my parents can be guarantors…”
&nbs
p; “Your parents just don’t have a sufficient yearly income.”
“But Neil…”
“Your brother, although he has just gained a pretty substantial income, doesn’t have the liquid.”
“Sh-sh… Sherry.” I didn’t know what else to say. I had done everything I could. I wasn’t getting the studio. That was it. I failed.
“I’m very sorry Ms. Abrams.”
There was a click when she hung up the phone. I trudged the rest of the way down the hallway and into the bar, which always sounded a little bit busier and louder when there wasn’t any music to mask the noise of glasses clinking, or the dishwasher running, or the register opening and closing. I went across the room, shooting a fake smile at Alice as I made my way down the hallway on the other side of the bar and into the dressing room. Only a couple of the girls were still in there. Everyone else was already on stage warming up.
I dropped my bag and put myself on auto-pilot just so that I could pretend that everything was okay. I peeled off the business attire I wore for my receptionist job and replaced it with the dancewear I wore to warm up for my shows. By the time I was clad in a leotard and tights and was pulling my hair back into a ponytail, the room was empty. I stared at my face as I did this.
Just don’t think about it.
Just don’t think about it.
Just don’t…
Fuck.
I slammed myself into the seat of my vanity, covering my face with my hands as I broke down. I couldn’t believe this. I had put everything into that application. I couldn’t even make up coherent thoughts as I gave myself to my sobs.
“Nance?”
I sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of my director. “Dori…” I wiped my eyes, willing myself to stop crying as she came in and shut the door behind her.
No such luck. The hot tears kept streaming down my face.
“You know you’re late.” She pulled a chair out of the vanity next to mine and sat down in it. She flipped it around so that she could rest her arms on the back of it.
I stared at her face, taking in the deep lines from age, the dark scars, the strong jaw. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I - …”
“I know. The salon.”
I pursed my lips.
She let out a dry laugh. “I’m not worried about that. You can be late sometimes. I know the hustle. Just don’t make it too often.”
I nodded.
“That’s not what worries me.” She then gestured at my face, “But this does.”
“I’m sorry.” I said as I wiped the tears again, but my voice sounded too heavy and the tears were relentless.
She nodded. “I know you are. But I can’t have my dancers balling all over the stage.”
I let out a wet chuckle, the mental image cutting into my gloomy thoughts. “Okay. Sorry.” I stood up.
She stood up. “So what is it? You didn’t get an audition?”
I bit my lip. “I didn’t get my- the loan.” It was hard to say it out loud.
She furrowed her bushy brows. “For what?”
I sucked in a breath. “I wanted t-to open a studio and… and the bank…” I stopped short because I couldn’t trust myself not to burst into tears all over again.
Dori smiled. “Is that it? Girl, people are gonna be telling you no for the next ten years. Get used to it.”
I nodded, but it wasn’t just that. I knew that I was better than this. I knew that I wanted more than this. “It just feels like no one-...”
“No one what?”
I shook my head. “I dunno. I’m just tired of slumming it.” I had almost made it. I was already out of there, once upon a time. “It’s just so hard. I have two jobs, Dori… and I can barely pay my bills.”
A mischievous smile slid across Dori’s face. “This is a damn weird way to ask for a raise.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You know what I mean.”
Dori nodded. “Yeah I do. You and me, the artist types, we work twice as hard as the normal world just to make a fraction of what they make sitting at a desk doing a job a million other people could do. But, you know what? You’re irreplaceable. Not here, not at the salon… but somewhere. That’s our struggle, to find that place where only we fit.”
“But I thought I had found it.”
Dori scoffed, giving my arm a light shove. “You’re only twenty-four. You’ll make it.” With that, she made her way back across the room and to the door. “Hurry up and get yourself cleaned up. I can’t afford to waste any more time.” With a raised eyebrow, she left me there.
I sat back down in the chair by the vanity, sucking in a deep breath. That was it. Dori was right. The pain of losing the loan had vanished. I was now being held under the weight of the sheer embarrassment of what I had just done. I couldn’t believe I broke down, and in front of Dori of all people. I sighed, staring down at my feet, my eyes lingering on the hole in my practice tights. I could see it, the scar on my ankle. It was the only thing I had, to remember the accident. I had missed the opportunity of a lifetime, a spot at the American School of Ballet.
But before I could dwell on that, I stood up, ran some cold water on my face and rushed out to the stage. After an hour of warming up and stretching, we did a dry run through the set-list. I let myself fall into the rhythm of the night. It was so easy to get sucked in, especially being in an environment as toxic as the Box, doing a bunch of dances I could do backwards in my sleep. It wasn’t until the last number of the last show that I even noticed him in the audience.
I had just landed my final turn, when, out of nowhere, James materialized in the midst of all of those people. He was sitting in one of those booths, holding that martini I was getting used to seeing him with. His eyes were piercing, even from all the way across the room. He looked hot as hell wearing nothing but that white button-down and dress-pants. He raised the glass to me as we did our bows. I rushed behind stage, hurrying to wipe the most severe aspects of my makeup off so that I could get back out there before he left. The last call would have been right before the start of the show, and a quick look at my phone told me that it was almost three in the morning.
I changed into the clothes I had been wearing earlier and went out into the main bar area. Much to my relief, he was sitting at the bar, his martini glass replaced with a tall glass of ice water. One quick glance around told me that Alice and Dori had already gone up to her office to count the cash. We were completely alone. He was just the thing I needed to get my mind off the loan and the bank and damn Sherry.
“I’m sorry sir, but this is a closed place. You can’t be here now.” I joked, dropping my bag on the counter.
His lips stretched into a smile. “How cold.” He gulped down his water.
I smiled. “Not as cold as an empty inbox.”
He nodded. I tried not to be aware of his gaze as I sat down in the chair next to his. “You really do speak your mind.”
“What else would I speak?”
He nodded. “Fair enough.”
I checked my watch again, just to have something else to look at. I wanted to avoid the gaze that paralyzed me. “Are you sure you’re ready to sober up?” I asked as I stood up. I knew after a week like this, I deserved at least one, good drink.
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you allowed to do that?”
I shrugged. “I work here, don’t I?” I said as I poured myself a Jack and coke. I took a sip, sighing at the sweet taste. “You sure?” I said, gesturing at an empty glass.
When he smiled again, I noticed his laugh lines for the first time. They were unbelievably cute. “Go ahead and pour me one of those.”
“So,” I said, once I had handed him his drink and was sitting next to him again. “What kind of guy goes an entire week without so much as a text and then shows up at my place of work, at three in the morning?”
James laughed, the dark sound filling my head. “I had a crazy week.”
I blinked. I had been dating long enough to know what that meant. But as I stare
d into those eyes, it was impossible for me to see the player behind them. He just seemed so genuine. “Sure you did.”
“But I couldn’t stay away.”
I chuckled. “So pick up the phone. Set a date.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to wait to see you.”
My stomach fluttered at those words.
“And you looked great up there.” He said.
I smiled, trying and failing at stopping the blush from lighting up my face. “Thanks. It’s really just a bunch of washed out stuff.”
He shook his head. “Don’t do that to yourself.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”
“Ignore your worth.”
I scoffed, the events of earlier that day coming to mind. “Don’t worry. I am well aware of my worth.”
James cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
I bowed my head, taking a sip of my drink. “I just don’t want to talk about it.” I said.
He reached for my chin, lifting my face. Before I could stop him or think too hard about it, he kissed me. Everything around me melted away as I sat there in the grip of his embrace. The smell of his woodsy, pine cologne was already canon in my head. I felt so at home in his arms, it was crazy. I struggled to remember the last time I felt this way with anyone. In fact, in that moment, there in his arms, I was struggling to remember to breathe.
He pulled away, leaving me wanting more, leaving me gasping for air. But when I opened my eyes, I could see the same, enchanted expression on his face that was on mine. This wasn’t just some drunken fantasy, or some way to satisfy an old crush. This was something serious. Something real. How could I know that already?
