by Aven Ellis
Crap, that’s a horrible sign. I wonder if he’s going to do a tirade CEO thing on me. Tom will scream about me being unprofessional and seducing his client and then fire my ass on the spot.
Okay. Perhaps that’s a bit dramatic.
He’ll accuse me of being unprofessional, not upholding his moral standards for the company, and terminate me.
There. That’s the politically correct way this will go down.
I hold my head up and straighten my spine. If I’m going to be kicked to the curb, Tom’s going to know he’s not rattling me. That it’s his choice, but I can be professional and be Beckett’s girlfriend at the same time. If that’s not what he wants, his loss. I will rebound and take my social media skills elsewhere.
Good Lord. Now I’m sounding like LeBron James when he took his “talents” to the Miami Heat.
I stride into the office and hear Neilson close the door behind me. I stand tall in my Michael Kors pointy-toe pumps, ready to prove I still deserve to be here.
Tom inclines his head toward the guest chair across from his chic black desk.
“Please have a seat,” Tom says.
I move to the chair and slip into it.
Tom looks at me and exhales. “So you’re dating Beckett.”
Ugh. This is awkward. I wanted to keep my work and personal life separate and now I have to discuss my love life with the CEO of my company.
This is why I have rules.
So shit like this doesn’t happen.
But loving Beckett is worth going through this awkwardness tenfold if I have to.
Suddenly, I’m calm. My nerves disappear. That is what is important here. What I have with Beckett. Yes, I want a career in social media, but people have survived far worse scandals than falling in love to rebuild tarnished images. So even if the worst happens, I’ll move past it.
“I am,” I say, my voice firm with resolve. “We met, we hit it off, and our relationship progressed to exclusively dating each other,” I say truthfully. “I assure you I’ll be nothing but professional around Beckett in my duties on your behalf, if you retain me on his account. But if I’m not working an event with him, I’m his girlfriend, and I’ll act like it.”
Tom calmly folds his hands on his desk and leans forward.
“What happens if you two don’t work out? Have a fight? Surely that will come into the workplace.”
“I can’t predict the future, or what Beckett would do if we broke up,” I say truthfully. “I can tell you, however, that I will be a professional on your behalf at all times.”
Tom pushes himself back from his desk and stands up, walking in front of the large window overlooking bustling Michigan Avenue.
“You haven’t met my wife, Natalie, yet,” Tom says, turning around and studying me. “We met at an ad agency over on Wacker Drive.”
I sit still. I see the open expression on Tom’s face and hope fills me.
“I was the new account executive, and she was hired as one of our department assistant AEs,” Tom explains. “So I’m not one to judge what you’re doing, Aubrey. Natalie is the love of my life, and I would have lost her if I would have abided by unwritten office rules.”
I don’t say a word. Is it too much to hope that everything is going to work out?
“I know this isn’t ideal,” I say honestly.
Tom nods. “No, I can’t say it is. However, Beckett’s made it clear you’re the only reason he’s here. I know that, you know that. I also know he could walk if this doesn’t work out, but it’s a chance I wouldn’t even have had in the first place without you.”
Wow. I have to give Tom credit for seeing the whole picture here.
“You have my word I’ll be professional,” I say strongly.
“I trust you,” Tom says. “And as far as I’m concerned, this is your business. And Beckett’s. You can tell people or not tell people, that’s your call.”
I realize he hasn’t said anything to Mallory.
I’m debating what to do about that when he clears his throat.
“So do you want to ride together to the photoshoot this afternoon?” Tom asks.
This is the photoshoot for Inside The Net, a hockey magazine that is featuring the rising Chicago Buffaloes on the cover. They wanted Beckett and Landy for the shoot, and of course I’ll be there to snap pictures of the behind the scenes action for Beckett’s social media feeds.
“Sounds good,” I say, rising from my seat. “And thank you for this conversation. It means more to me than you could know, Tom.”
“You’re welcome,” Tom says. “And I’ll meet you in the reception area at one.”
“Okay,” I say, smiling.
Then I leave, elation sweeping over me. I’m going to have both. I can be Beckett’s social media consultant and his girlfriend. I’m so relieved and happy. And I know Beckett will be, too.
I turn the corner and see Mallory striding into her office. I stop dead in my tracks. I wrestle with the decision to tell her or not. Beckett is a public figure. We’ll be talked about. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it will happen. No doubt Mallory will think she can sink me with that tidbit once she gets it.
Unless I tell her first.
I go to my desk, as no doubt Mallory will yell for something in less than five minutes. I bring up Beckett’s media accounts to log responses, likes, shares, etc. and get no farther than accessing his Twitter homepage when I hear my name.
“Aubrey, are you out there?” Mallory calls.
“Yes, Mallory, I am,” I respond.
“Please come in here,” she orders.
I get up, grab my notebook and pen, and head into her office.
“Yes?”
“Loads to do today,” Mallory declares. She’s typing on her keyboard, and mentally I try to decide what webpage will pop up first: flooring, shoes, or wildcard, something such as lamps.
It’s like spinning a prize wheel and waiting for the answer to be revealed, I think.
Click, click and . . . Whooo! It’s flooring!
I would totally have won a car or jackpot if I were playing for prizes.
Mallory doesn’t even glance at me.
“I need all the contents of the two lower filing cabinets purged,” she states. “Those files are ridiculously old. And I need the space.”
Ha, yes, space for folders labeled ‘heated flooring options’ and ‘countertops.’ I should know. I typed them all.
“Okay,” I say. “So I can come in here and box them, then call the shredder company to retrieve them?”
“Um, no,” Mallory says, emphasizing the word “no” like I’m a class-A idiot. “I don’t trust those places. I want you to personally shred each and every file.”
She has got to be kidding.
“But, Mallory, I’m sure I can find a reputable shredding service to handle that due to the volume of the files,” I say.
Mallory clicks on a hardwood option. “No. And now that I think about it, the whole cabinet might need to be shredded. But first I want an inventory of every file folder and how many pages are in it.”
I bite down on my lower lip. Oh, she’s doing this part as punishment because I challenged her idea. That’s a reoccurring theme with her.
“Okay,” I say.
Mallory swivels in her chair, obviously surprised I didn’t push back more.
“Okay?”
“Sure,” I say. Then I drop my own bomb. One she can’t punish me for. “Oh, and just because you’ll see it soon in the media, I’m dating Beckett Riley.”
Mallory’s glossy lips part into a shocked circle. “You what?”
“I’m with Beckett,” I say. “Don’t worry, I don’t have a Pinterest shrine to him, but I am his girlfriend,” I sa
y, reminding her of the barb she threw at me last month.
“This is very, very unethical,” Mallory says, her tone aghast.
“Some people might think so,” I say slowly, setting her up. “But I can keep the two separate.”
“Aubrey, I can’t even begin to tell you how disrespectful this is to ChicagoConnect. How this damages our reputation.”
I cock an eyebrow at her. “Does it? Or will it give us lots of social media buzz when people start talking about it?”
Her eyes narrow. “This is not the kind of buzz Tom wants.”
“Really?”
“Oh, I know it,” Mallory declares. “And I’m sorry, Aubrey, but I’m going to have to inform Tom of this situation. At once.”
Ha! She fell right into it.
“Um, you can if you want, but he already knows,” I say sweetly.
The glossy lips go into an O for a second time this morning.
“Wh-What?”
“I told Tom. He’s fine with it. So talk to him if you want, but since the CEO is okay with me and Beckett, I’m sure you will be, too,” I say, smiling at her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get started on these files before I go to Beckett’s photo shoot this afternoon. Is that okay?”
Mallory doesn’t say anything. I know I’ve pissed her off to new heights, but I don’t care. I have my job. I have the support of the CEO.
Most of all, I have Beckett.
Now that all of this is squared away, I can breathe easy. I don’t have to hide my relationship with Beckett. I don’t have to fear losing my job.
My life is exactly where I want it to be.
Any other bumps that come along, I know I can handle.
I’m sure of it.
Chapter 28
The Aubrey Rules To Live By, Rule #28: As a social media expert, my job is to engage the client’s followers and showcase the client in the best possible light. I will do this with a fresh approach and by adding personality to everything I do on behalf of said client.
**Note** Okay, I’m supposed to stand by and simply take pictures of Beckett doing this photo shoot but he seems as if he’s having as much fun as if he were having a cavity filled. I can’t share these with his followers!
**Note #2** I need to get involved.
**Note #3** Getting Beckett to relax and have fun with a photo shoot is kind of like asking me to enjoy a basket of kale chips.
**Note #4** Maybe if I promise to eat kale that will make him laugh?
**Note #5** I’ll have to bring out the big guns. Such as a promise of ninja moves and Lucky Charms panties later if he pretends to have fun.
I arrive with Tom at the building being used for the shoot. The concept is to have Beckett and Landy in casual wear to show the off-ice side, as the magazine already has a gazillion pictures of them in action from this season. For today’s photo shoot, they rented a furnished penthouse with the city of Chicago as a backdrop from the windows.
Tom smiles at me as we ride up in the elevator. “So do you think Beckett is going to be more relaxed with you here?”
Hmmm. Beckett relax with cameras in his face. Odds might be better of me not talking for a week straight than Beckett relaxing in front of a camera, but I don’t have the heart to tell Tom that.
“Perhaps,” I say vaguely.
Tom takes off his leather gloves and stuffs them into the pockets of his trench coat. “It’s okay. I’ve been doing shoots for years. I’ll get him to feel more at ease.”
Right. And I might choose to order a basket of kale chips instead of fries.
The elevator chimes and opens right into the luxury penthouse.
I see the Inside The Net staff scurrying around, doing everything from checking the lighting to setting up cameras. Music is blaring. And I find Landy and Beckett sitting on tall stools as hair and makeup people work on them.
Beckett has a big smock draped over his clothes, and already I see a woman fussing with a big powder brush and dusting his face. Oy. Beckett already appears uncomfortable. I can tell he’s hating every second of this, and this requires nothing but for him to sit still.
Landy, on the other hand, is grinning as a woman styles his black hair. He’s wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattoos. The shirt is covered by a gray vest, and I see a platinum striped tie peeking out of it. But the glasses. They’re unexpected, and he looks smokin’ hot in them, all kinds of intellectual and sexy going on here.
Note: Livy must never see these pictures. She has a thing for guys in glasses, and despite her protests, I think she has a thing for Landy, too. Seeing this would only endanger her mental ability to run from him.
“Hello, you must be Tom,” a woman says, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m Grace, we spoke last week on the phone.”
“Yes, nice to meet you, Grace,” Tom says, shaking her hand. “And this is Aubrey, she works on Beckett’s account.”
The blond smiles at me. “Aubrey, I’m Grace Holt, creative director for the shoot today.”
I smile and give her hand a firm, confident shake. “Pleasure.”
“We’ll get started in about fifteen minutes, so if you want to talk to Beckett, go ahead,” she says. “And I’ll see to some last minute details.”
“Great, thank you.” Tom turns to me. “Let’s go see him.”
I nod as we head toward Beckett. The makeup artist has finished, and she moves behind him to remove his smock.
“You’re all set,” she announces as we walk up.
“Hey, Beckett, looking good,” Tom says, smiling at him.
Beckett lifts his head. Electricity jolts through me the second his eyes meet mine, because they completely change the second he sees me. The dull, I’m so bored expression dissipates. His eyes light up. The crooked smile appears.
And I’m overjoyed to know I’m the one who brings the light to his eyes.
Beckett stands up, and I love the outfit they’ve selected for him. He’s dressed in a navy cashmere quarter-zip sweater, a luxurious brown suede bomber jacket, and jeans. They’ve tousled his hair a bit—I can tell the stylist used product to get the waves out—and a lock of his hair sweeps across his forehead in a sexy way.
“Hey, Tom, Aubrey, good to see you,” he says, nodding.
“Are you ready?” Tom asks, slipping out of his coat and draping it over a set chair. “Remember the tips we went over earlier in the week, and you’ll be fine. The photographer will spend some time with you, too, getting to know you so you’ll feel more comfortable.”
I step back as they talk and begin taking my own pictures. The hairstylist comes by again with a can of hairspray and gives Beckett’s hair one final spray, and I capture the moment.
Beckett shoots me a look. “For real? Nobody wants to see my hair being hair sprayed.”
“Au contraire, your female fans will eat this up,” I say, accessing his account so I can post it.
“Hair spray?” Beckett challenges. “They’re going to want to see hair spray?”
I glance up at him and smile at the bewildered look on his face.
“No,” I say, typing a caption and tweeting it, “they want to see you behind the scenes.”
Then I text him a message.
Actually they love seeing Captain Sexy Ass with hair beach ready. Panties will drop everywhere, I guarantee it.
I hit ‘send’ and wait for him to get it. Beckett’s phone buzzes in his pocket.
“Excuse me,” Beckett says, retrieving it. He glances down and his face turns bright red. Ha! It takes all my willpower not to burst out laughing.
“Hey, good to see you, Aubrey,” Landy says, coming over and grinning at me. “Are you here to keep Becks under control?” he teases. “Because I’ve seen him at th
ese shoots. It’s so hard to get him to be serious.”
“Shut up, Landy,” Beckett says, laughing.
“Okay, Beckett, Landy, let’s get you on set,” Grace says.
I slip out of my coat and put it over the back of another vacant chair. Then I head over behind Ben, the photographer, who is discussing the shoot with Beckett and Landy.
I listen as the photographer talks to both of them, explaining how they want to capture their images as people, not as players, today with this shoot. How he wants them to feel comfortable and at ease with what he’s doing, that he’ll give them plenty of direction and show them the shots as they go. They’ll do some with both Beckett and Landy together as well as individual shots, too.
“Ready?” Ben asks.
“Let’s do it,” Landy replies.
“Yes,” Beckett says seriously.
First they position Beckett and Landy in front of the window, and Ben takes time to get them in the exact right spot before checking it in his camera lens.
“Perfect,” Ben declares, picking up his camera and beginning to shoot.
The second Ben begins shooting, Beckett becomes stiff as a board. He’s wearing this frozen half-smile on his face, one that screams “I’d rather have extensive dental work done with no numbing than this.”
And oh, no, being next to Landy is only making his awkwardness worse. Landy’s got the smile, the tilt of the head, the engaging way that will leap from the pages.
While Beckett has the energy of a sloth taking a nap.
“Beckett, if you can relax your shoulders a bit for me,” Ben says.
Beckett furrows his brow. “I’m relaxed. This is relaxed,” he insists.
I glance at Tom, willing him to do something.
“Take a deep breath, Beckett,” Tom says.
Gah, that’s it? That’s his advice? He needs to make him laugh! When Beckett laughs, his eyes dance, and the crooked smile appears and that’s the Beckett the world should see.
