by Karen Gordon
“Like you and Luis.” I’ve always been more than a little jealous of how open and accepting they are of each other but I’ve also written it off to the fact that they’ve known each other since they were thirteen.
She shrugs, “He knows I’m a crazy bitch with no filter on what I say and he loves me for it. You need someone who you feel like you can take off your cape in front of, be you, all of you. Maybe it will be easier if you start with your boss.”
“Even the neurotic, scared, overthinking, picky, bossy me?”
She leans in to hug me. “Those are the parts I like best.”
Chapter Ten
I bring out my old high school playbook to solve my media problem, I work around it using a technicality. More than once I got an A that a teacher didn’t want to give me because I didn’t do the assignment the way they had planned. I interpreted their poorly worded instructions and did it my way. I usually had to argue my point but I almost always ended up getting an A.
Lying awake, fretting about the media interviews, the solution finally hit me. Mikel had specifically told me that he isn’t my boss; that I work for myself. So, since I am the boss I can hire someone to do some of my work for me, especially work that I absolutely suck at.
I find Meghan through the woman who owns my favorite boutique dress shop. I’m so wound up in my fears that I turn to retail therapy for relief. The fantastic sweater dress I get helps, but the time I spend kvetching with the shop owner is pure gold. We talk about their recent grand re-opening after she and a few other shop owners renovated. I tell her I had seen the story in a local magazine and a piece on the local news. It was Meghan who appeared on the news on behalf of the owners. She was sharp and professional and very well spoken. I leave there with my new dress, Meghan’s number and a huge weight off my shoulders.
I used to always think of networking as a really hard, formal thing, usually done at uncomfortable, dull cocktail parties or on golf courses. I’m shockingly bad at both, small talk and golf, so I never thought I could do it. But here I am, just chatting away like I do when I’m comfortable with someone and, boom, I tap into a network. Not only did the owner share Meghan’s number with me, she also invited me to go to a meeting of women entrepreneurs. I hesitate because I don’t feel like I belong. I mean, these are women who own real businesses, not recent secretaries who’ve blindly fallen into sort of owning a business. But I make the mistake of mentioning it to Dom who commands, “You’re going.” Then she goads me by adding. “Quit being such a chicken shit. What are they going to do, ask to see your resume at the door?”
I glare at her but don’t answer.
“You already solved one problem with their help. They might come in really handy for others.”
She’s right, damn it, but I still don’t want to go. I’m discovering there are so many parts of this job that I’m seriously not comfortable with.
✈ ✈ ✈
I’m so excited about taking my first prospects on their test flight (and to be honest, getting a ride myself) that I put the whole Meghan/media thing on the backburner. It helps that Meghan is fantastic. (Ok, she reminds me a little of me, but with poise.) I give her tons of notes on questions the she might have to answer and remind her that I will be there in the background for every interview. She’s nails all the key details when I quiz her which puts my mind completely at ease so I can really enjoy this demo flight.
The plane can handle up to twelve passengers and we are at capacity. Brad gave me a passenger list. Some of the connections to them purchasing this plane were shaky at best, but I didn’t want to split hairs so I approved them all. Before anyone boards I go over the flight plan with the two Italian pilots. They speak perfect English but with swoon-worthy accents, like Mikel. My reaction to them reminds me that it’s been too long again since I’ve felt like a female and not just a worker-bot.
The one hour flight is a dream. I hire a local moonlighting flight attendant to serve snacks and drinks and show off the galley. I don’t care who you are, you can’t help but feel pretty damn cool flying at the speed of sound over the ocean while sipping a lovely glass of wine. My contacts are just as impressed as I am.
Back on the ground we have another meeting with all the key players. They have a few questions but mostly they’re excited to get this process moving. We end the meeting with the CFO hinting about sending the deposit as early as next week.
All I hear is check and next week. Finally, money! I will breathe so much easier when I can stop living off my savings. I go over a possible delivery schedule with them. With the short backlog of orders right now they could have their plane (and I can have my commission) in six months. We all leave happy. I’m so juiced I could fly without the plane, but that’s just it, I can’t. My next step is taking the plane, picking up Meghan, and flying to New York for two days of media followed by another two days in L.A.
It’s moments like this that I don’t recognize myself. Who is this girl on the supersonic jet flying all over the country, making the big money and running a business? It can’t be the same person who was hanging out with Dom last week designing her nursery. Yesterday I spent the afternoon scrubbing out my oven, today I feel like some mythical boss babe. The two me’s don’t fit together in my mind.
✈ ✈ ✈
Meghan rocks. I gush over her performance because I want her to know how much I appreciate what she is doing for me. She’s only two years older than me but her self-confidence and poise make her seem much older than that. She’s smooth as silk answering every question and only needing to refer to me briefly. To the press, our relationship must look like I’m the secretary and Meghan is in charge, and I don’t feel any need to correct it. I like the feeling of hiding in plain sight, running the show from the wings. It’s where I do my best work.
When we get back to Savannah we promise to keep in touch. With the jet being so new and unique I imagine there will be other requests for photo shoots and interviews and I promise to hire her for every one of them.
I get the screaming Skype call from Mikel two days later. I flinch at his anger. He feels betrayed that I didn’t communicate with him. I can’t get a word in as he berates me for not letting him know that I had hired someone to represent the company. He comes just short of threatening to end my contract.
I try to be strong and not fidget or let my voice shake as I present my counter argument, that I “handled” media the way that I saw as best. “I’m horrible in front of a camera. I freeze up. Is that the image you want of your company?”
“That is not the point. You went behind my back and hired this girl.”
“Who did a fantastic job. Did you see her?”
He softens some so I know he has. There is no denying Meghan is good. “Yes, I saw her on the FNN piece.”
“And…”
“Yes, she is good. But I had no idea who the hell she was. Here is this strange woman telling me about my plane.”
Ok, fuck, he’s right. I didn’t think about his point of view. “Mikel, I…” I can’t keep talking because I’m trying not to cry. What the hell? I never cry. But I’m breathing hard, choking back tears, because I’m so upset with myself for making yet another mistake, a huge one this time.
He gives me a moment to compose myself and I silently curse Skype. I could play this off as something else on a phone call. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t think it through.” It physically hurts to admit this to him. He’s seeing the human behind my super woman facade and I hate it.
He backs off his anger. “I’m not saying you should not have hired her, but you need to talk to me first.”
“You’re right.” I take another deep breath and look away from the screen to hide my red eyes. “I’m truly sorry. I just…I knew she could do a much better job than I could.”
“I don’t think so, but…” He’s calming down but there’s still a slight edge to his voice.
I almost say it. I almost expose myself and tell him I can’t do it all,
that I have huge flaws and there are things I simply cannot do. But I don’t. I need him to believe in me, to believe that I can handle this job that is actually way too big for me.
“I’d like to use her again for any other media.”
He glares at me through the miles. “Oh, now you ask me?” There’s a hint of humor in his voice now. I remember that Annalize is famous for doing and never asking. “Cara…” I internally sigh with relief that he likes me enough to call me that again. “You have to talk to me about everything. With me here and you there we have to talk more. You are your own boss but don’t forget you are under contract with Ora.”
“I overstepped my boundaries.” A very bad habit I got into with Jack.
“Yes, you did.” He gives me one final poignant look before switching subjects. “But you also sold one.”
I smile wide. “I did?” I had thought that someone from the hotel group would let me know.
“Yes, you did. Check your email.”
I see the number two in the red circle on the email icon on my phone. I open quickly. Sure enough there is one email from the CFO and one from Brad. They are only a few minutes old and say that they will be wiring the deposit today. Holy crap, I did it!
I bite my lip as I reread the emails, trying to suppress my excitement a little. I don’t want to look too goofy over this. Then he might know how much I feared this would never happen.
“Congratulations.” I look up to see him beaming back at me. Does he know how huge this is for me? “I will be depositing your commission tonight. You should see it in your account tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you. I’m the one getting the bigger check.” He pauses to smile at his own joke and the tension between us melts away a little more. “And speaking of checks, we have another good lead. I’ll send you an email but his name is Evan O’Donnell. Pete knows him.” I try to hide my smile at the mention of Pete’s name but I can’t. “He just sold his first dot com company for half a billion and is starting another.”
I write his name on a post it pad so I can start my obsessive research as soon as we end this call. “Sounds fantastic.”
“He’s legit, got the money and the need. It’ll also be his first plane so you will need to hold his hand through this a lot more than you did the Miami group, but you can do it.”
I can do it. I know it. And more importantly, Mikel knows it. I take a minute to bask in his confidence in me before I end the call with more promises of communicating better.
I’m about to start Evan O’Donnell stalking, my hands are poised over the keyboard when I look up at the clock and I stop. It’s noon. I look at my phone to see the day of the week, Sunday. I feel like some strong internal clock is calling out to me, telling me that I have something important to do and it’s not work.
Sunday afternoons have always belonged to Dom and me. She would get home from church and I would finish prepping for the week ahead then we would have the afternoon to hang out together. On nice days, like today, we would go to the park or shopping downtown. Rainy days were for movies.
In this moment I miss my old life. I miss the structure and the surety of connecting with Dom. I miss having an afternoon where I knew all my work was caught up and I could just relax. Can I do it now? With Evan O’Donnell poking at my brain? With the possibility of another commission check, money that could put me at ease, build my confidence in my ability to do my new job calling me?
I text Dom.
What up?
There’s no reply. After ten minutes I call. Luis answers her phone.
“Hey V, she’s taking a nap. She had some cramps this morning so I put her on bed rest.”
“Good call, Dr. Luis. Is she ok? I mean, it’s not serious, is it?” Fear and guilt grip me. I’ve been out of touch during the media tour. What if Dom needed me?
“I don’t think so. She’s going to see the doctor tomorrow. I’ll have her call you after.”
“Yeah, ok, good. Do that.”
I hang up and stare at my laptop, still unable to do anything. I’m caught in limbo between Evan O’Donnell and Dom, unable to really do much of anything about either. I get up and take my coffee cup and my one dish to the sink and contemplate washing them. It seems like a waste of water for only two dishes. Maybe I’ll cook something or bake. I open cabinets and the fridge, scanning for ingredients. I’m short at least one thing for all my favorites.
Maybe I’ll go out to eat. My part of the deposit money, eighty thousand dollars, will appear in my account tomorrow and it’s already making me feel flush. I could go anywhere I want. Hell, I could fly somewhere just to eat a meal.
But I’d be going alone…
For the first time in my life I’m at a complete loss about what to do. My world is changing at warp speed and I’m not sure I’m ready to change along with it.
Chapter Eleven
“He put me on a restricted diet.” Dom is not happy. Her blood pressure is high and her O.B. wants her to control it with diet.
“Send me the list of food. I’ll make you a few meals.” I’m lying on my couch with my feet up the wall, something I haven’t done since I was a kid. But it feels kinda good and I do feel like a kid at Disney since seeing my account balance this morning. I’m holding back some of my excitement though to share in Dom’s misery.
“Being pregnant is not fun…and it’s getting not fun-er.”
“I’m sorry Chica. Just think of the prize you get at the end.”
“Child birth?” She’s in a pissy mood and doesn’t want to be talked out of it.
“A mini you, only a boy, goof.”
“God help me if this one has a temper and a mouth like me.”
I try not to laugh but Lucca, Luis and I would get a huge kick out of that. I change the subject to something that might cheer her up. “I’ve got a new lead. I need more Dom cyber stalking.” I could do it myself but it’s so much more fun together and Dom goes places I won’t go and finds the juiciest tidbits.
I give her a minute to get her laptop and open it. “Ok, shoot.”
“His name is Evan O’Donnell, he started a tech company that he just sold for half a billion and he’s looking to buy his first plane. That’s all I know right now. Mikel sent me an email but I haven’t opened it yet.”
“What are you waiting for? Let’s get to work.” Yeah, she’s into this. Her mood is improving already. I open the email and scan for details.
“Nothing too exciting here—phone number, links to a few business articles.”
“You read those, I’ll get started on the good stuff.” I hear the rapid clicking of her laptop keys. We’re both silent as we go into research mode. It doesn’t take her long to interrupt my reading.
“We have a winner.”
“What do you mean?” Did she get into his financials already?
“He’s cute, only a year younger than you too.”
“Dom, stop, my job is not a dating service.” Even as I say this I type his name in the search bar and click on images. What can I say--she’s got my curiosity up. I scan the pictures. “What drugs are you on? He is not my type.”
“His money doesn’t make him look better?”
In image after image all I see is a guy who looks fifteen on a good day and dresses like it too. “His money makes him look like a great client but dating him would be like dating a high school kid.”
“He’s twenty-four and, aww, his birthday is five days away from yours.”
Damn she’s fast with the research. “Stop planning romantic birthday getaways for us.”
“He could fly you somewhere in his plane.”
“Which he won’t have if I show up having not done my homework on selling him one. Get back to work.”
“He’s taller than you.” She’s not going to give up.
“How tall?”
“Six-one. So you are interested.”
“No, I need to be able to assure him he won’t have to duck the enti
re time he is in his plane.”
“I like him.”
“Good, you date him.” I try to end her matchmaking so I can get back to real research.
“Luis won’t let me. I have to live vicariously through you.”
“I need solid info, Dom, concentrate. Don’t make me fire you as my research assistant.”
“As if…” She pauses and I hear keys clicking. Just when I think she’s headed in the right direction she says. “He’s single.”
✈ ✈ ✈
I’m ready to jump on this lead (not literally) but Dom’s cyber stalking turned up current pictures of him in Thailand looking very much like he is on a vacation. I’m guessing that he’s enjoying some of the windfall from his recent sale. So I place a call to his office to get to know his secretary and put myself on the radar. He confirms that he’s not available right now but that he will pass on my information. (A male secretary--I begrudgingly give him kudos for being progressive.)
…And I’m back to waiting, and waiting…
I check his social media daily to see if he shows any signs of returning to work. I design a month of low-salt, totally delicious meals for Dom and take over her kitchen to make them. I have a little work to do for the hotel group in Miami to prepare for their plane—get a tug and an auxiliary power unit, but that only takes a few days of calls.
I’m not usually much into holidays, but this year Thanksgiving is a welcome diversion, even if it’s only for a day. I spend it with Dom and Luis’s families at Lucca’s house. The house is too small which creates major chaos. The men cram into the living room, jockeying for seats with a view of the TV. Kids are shooed out into the yard to play. The kitchen is alive with women dancing around each other, alternatively talking in Spanish and English, making enough food to feed five times the number of guests.
