by Nella Tyler
The easiest thing to do was not expect anything. Leonard was difficult to please, some would argue. I would argue he was impossible to please, and that anyone who tried to please him was wasting his time.
And yet, here I was, working this job in the hopes that I would one day inherit this life.
“Dexter? Did you close the account or not?”
“Yes,” I said. “I did, this morning. Got off the phone about an hour ago, actually.”
Leonard nodded slowly, eyeing me up and down almost like a lion measured its prey. “That’s good work. You’ve been doing well this quarter.”
I did my best not to literally squirm under the critical heat of his stare. This praise made me suspicious at most, at least; wary of a lecture. “Thank you. It’s been a lucky few months.”
I didn’t want to linger here in this strange environment where my father was kind, and I started towards the door to be on my way.
“I… wait a moment.”
I whispered a curse under my breath and turned around.
Leonard sat down beneath his desk and gestured for me to take a seat in one of the chairs. I did, and I sank into it a bit too comfortably for my liking.
“You’re 28 now,” Leonard said.
I nodded.
“You’re growing up. Well, you’ve grown up, now you’re getting older. One day you’ll own this company. This desk, these books, the view.” Leonard turned slightly to glance out the window, as if appreciating the Florida skyline for the final time.
I furrowed my brow.
“Are you surprised?” Leonard seemed to read my mind before I could even fully formulate my thoughts.
“A little.”
“I’ve noticed you lately. I’ve seen the way you look at this place. You’ve always claimed this life wasn’t for you, but you pull more hours than anyone here. You claim to do this to appease me, but I know you see your name on that door.” Leonard motioned to the glass door where his name and ‘CEO’ were engraved on a plaque.
That might have been true to an extent, but I didn’t know that I really appreciated having my mind read and assumptions drawn about my character and ambitions. It wasn’t something worth arguing, anyway, so I merely nodded.
“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it,” I said. “But I have a brother. Is he not a factor in this decision?”
Leonard frowned—well, deepened his frown from the eternal scowl his face had set in long ago. “Tyler is a lost cause to the company. You know that probably better than I do.”
I did. I loved my brother dearly and considered him to be my closest friend, but he wasn’t cut out for business. “I suppose.”
“The only problem you have is your wife.”
I looked up with a bit of surprise. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, that you don’t have one.” Leonard leaned back in his chair. “If you’re going to take my place, you should find a wife that inspires some sort of trust in the companies we’re involved with.”
“What? I don’t… I don’t follow.” I was more than aware of the fact that I was 28 and single, but I wasn’t concerned with making some sort of marriage for business. That sounded like the sort of thing that happened hundreds of years ago.
“It sounds antiquated, I know. But it’s common in our profession to marry someone involved in the companies we want to do business with.”
I shook his head. “Dad, I understand your concern, but I promise, I’m working on it. I don’t really think…” I didn’t want to argue, and so I changed my approach in rebelling against this idea. “I wouldn’t know where to start, anyway. It might be best to apply myself to business.”
Leonard gave a harsh, jarring laugh. “I agree on an ideal level. But practically, this will cement the company when I’m gone. And don’t worry about finding someone.”
I got a bad feeling in my stomach.
“I’ve given you the week off next week and arranged you to meet with…” Leonard trailed off and checked a note he’d written on a Post-it note. “Tiffany DuBois.”
Tiffany DuBois. I knew the DuBois as a wealthy family. They were enormously powerful influencers; my family was at every party thrown by the DuBois trying to get the older couple to lend them their ear. I’d never met their daughter. To my understanding, she’d spent much of her childhood in private schooling, and then, private colleges.
The implication, then, would be that refusing to meet Tiffany would be a slap in the face to the DuBois family. It wasn’t an option to refuse my father, not only because he couldn’t be argued with, but because I didn’t want to face the consequences of having the DuBois on my bad side.
On my way out, I texted my brother to meet me at the gym. We had a lot to discuss, for sure, and I was sure I was in need of advice that I didn’t even know I needed yet. I stopped at my house briefly to get changed into some gym clothes, and then made my way over to meet Tyler.
The gym was located in one of the gated communities downtown. I didn’t live in the community, but I had memberships to all the community’s country clubs, and my family had basically paid to have the gym built. I had a membership here, as did my brother. It was usually empty, because most of the wealthy people who lived around here had personal trainers or at-home gyms.
I set a bottle of water and my wallet in the designated locker and headed into the main area to meet my brother. Tyler sat on a weightlifting bench, hands pressed against the bar. For all the time Tyler spent in the gym, he never really bulked up, but remained lanky and unintimidating. His hair was a little lighter than mine and his eyes a dark brown instead of green, but besides those two things, we looked very similar. We were almost exactly the same height; who was taller seemed to change every day.
“Getting started without me?” I made sure my brother had set the weight back into its pegs before speaking and startling him.
“Didn’t think you were going to show up.” Tyler looked up. “Make yourself useful and spot. Tough meeting with Dad?”
I stood behind the weights, knowing full well that if Tyler did drop one, there wouldn’t be much I could do to help him. “It was… weird. It went okay, I guess; he was glad that I closed the account.”
“I’m not. Now he’s gonna be on my ass to get things done.” Tyler huffed and pushed the weight off his chest.
I shrugged. “He’s always on our asses. Doesn’t matter what about.”
“Yup. But you’re still working for him.”
“So are you.”
Tyler pushed the weight back onto the rack. “I have a bachelor’s degree in music theory. I don’t have any other choice. You could at least go find a different firm.”
“You know I can’t do that.” Not with the knowledge that if I left now, the firm would be left to Tyler, and that would probably crush Tyler more readily than any weight in this room.
“Yeah, I know. I just wish you’d stick up for yourself sometimes. He pushes you around, and you just let him. He’s only in this for himself, you know. You’re not like that with anyone else. Remember when those lacrosse pricks were picking on you in high school?”
I smiled. “I didn’t beat them up.”
“They looked beat up.”
“I didn’t tell them to follow me down the stairs.” I shook my head at the memory. A few kids from the lacrosse team had decided to start making fun of me. I’d eventually baited them to the steep staircase behind the gym and run down it; they’d tripped and gotten hurt, enough to put them out for the season.
“Whatever, man. You know what I’m saying. You could at least tell Dad that enough’s enough with all the bullshit. Add another 10, would you?”
I gave a sarcastic bow and added a 10-pound weight to both ends of the pole. “Well, it’s a little more complicated now.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “It’s always more complicated. The longer you stay in, the longer it’s complicated.” Tyler generally had a much more cheerful demeanor about him, but when it came to the company and our
father, he got serious, or at least, more existential than usual.
“No, I mean, it got a lot more complicated. He set me up to meet with Tiffany DuBois.”
Tyler laughed, and I had to grab the weight before it could fall on him. “Sorry. Tiffany? What do you mean meet? You don’t mean…”
I stared down at him. Tyler burst into laughter, sitting up to allow himself to make the most noise mocking my plight. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, man. Tiffany DuBois. I thought she was 19? Or 12?”
“She’s 25,” I corrected. “But I haven’t seen her since… I might have seen her at a company party years ago, but I’m not sure.”
Tyler shook his head, still laughing. “What is it, some sort of heir to the throne bullshit with the company?”
“Actually, yeah. Dad wants me to get married so that we have a better relationship with DuBois’ companies when I take his place.” I handed Tyler the rag so that he could wipe down the weights.
“That’s fucking hilarious. I’m sorry, but it is.” Tyler put the rag back on the towel rack when he was done wiping off the equipment. “Tiffany DuBois. Are you gonna get bikini waxes together? Maybe get matching tiny dogs?”
“Shut up.”
“Are you going to get her a ring at Tiffany’s, or is that too cliché?”
“I hate you.”
“I mean, at the very least, you could get laid.”
I cut Tyler off with a glare. “You really don’t take anything seriously, do you?”
“Never have.” Tyler hopped up off the bench. “I can’t take anything seriously. You take everything seriously. We gotta balance. Here, I’ll spot you.”
I took his place on the weightlifting bench. “Hey, it’s a little light. Could you add a 20?”
Tyler flipped me off before putting a 10 on each side, and I laughed. Once I got started weightlifting, Tyler talked about how he’d gotten a few songs written, and he was thinking about maybe trying to start a band. At some point I tuned it out; I couldn’t stop thinking about the reality that I was going to be set up on a blind date with Tiffany DuBois.
And another thing that Tyler said bothered me; that Leonard was only looking out for himself.
I finished my set and put the weights back on the rack. Maybe Leonard was only looking out for himself, but that didn’t make him wrong. Getting married to a DuBois would set the company straight for years to come, potentially generations. This whole thing was bigger than me. I had to remember that.
Chapter 2
Briella
The couple peered over my shoulder to get a better look at my tablet. I angled it so that they could see the floral arrangements better. This was my first meeting with this couple, but they were more than cooperative with me, and we were going over my personal favorite thing: floral arrangements and color schemes.
“The lilies are absolutely stunning, Greg.”
“Lilies are a symbol for death, aren’t they?”
“You’re really going to get your money’s worth out of that English major, aren’t you? How about the one to the right?”
I cleared my throat, loathe to interrupt the sweet banter, but eager to get a decision made. “The one to the right is about 23 dollars cheaper, but it does ship more quickly than the first, which guarantees the flowers will look nicer. I’ve done a lot of work with this floral company in the past. They do a good job.”
The men were quiet for a moment, considering their different options. I knew it was a lot to choose in a few moments, especially considering this was the first meeting. A lot of couples got nervous at the first meeting and didn’t know what to do.
“Tell you what, how about I send you this link so you can have some time to go over it?” I offered, pulling my email up to send them the link to the florist’s website. They could see other options, too, and I was familiar enough with all the local florists that I could give them my two cents on anything they showed me.
“That would be fantastic,” one of them said. “You’re a lifesaver, Briella.” He squeezed his fiance’s hand, and my heart fluttered.
“It’s what I do,” I replied simply. I couldn’t imagine working any other job. Seeing couples happy and well off, being able to make a happy couple’s most important day as special as I could, it was the most amazing feeling in the world. No two weddings were the same, and so it never got boring. Wedding planning was just something that I was born to do.
This particular couple was absolutely delightful to work with. Greg and Stephen were both from here in Houston, and had grown up together, apparently. They were regularly vicious to one another, but never without a kiss on the cheek or an apology for a particularly harsh comment.
Sometimes I felt like I was watching different ways my life could have played out. Every wedding I planned was my own dream wedding, in a way.
“Well, you do it very well. I can’t imagine being so organized,” Stephen said.
Greg rolled his eyes. “Of course you couldn’t.” He squeezed his hand again. “I bet your husband is a lucky man, having someone so put together.”
I laughed a little nervously. “Oh, I don’t…”
“Or wife, I mean—”
“No,” I shook my head. I’d never doubted my sexuality, though I had no problem with people in the LGBTQ community—I simply knew that I wasn’t a part of it. “No, I just have a boyfriend.”
“Oh,” Stephen nodded. “Well, he’d better get to it. You’re young and beautiful.”
I blushed. “Thank you.” I couldn’t imagine Jason ever proposing to me. It would require him to get off the couch, and that didn’t seem to be something that was happening anytime soon. Still, I clung to the possibility that he might go back to the way he was when I’d met him.
“Oh, Stephen, didn’t we have that meeting next weekend…?” Greg nudged Stephen slightly.
“Right, right. Briella, can we move our next appointment with you up a little bit?”
I pulled my calendar up on my tablet and started tapping away. “Of course. When do you want to meet?”
“Is next Wednesday okay?”
“Sure.” I made the change and smiled. “I’ll see you two then. It would probably be good if you could decide on a floral arrangement by that time.”
“We’ll try,” Greg said. “No promises.”
I laughed and waved them off. I hadn’t quite earned enough money to buy an office space yet, so I tended to rent out spaces in the public library to meet clients. That way it was a professional environment, quiet, and I didn’t need to bring anyone into my apartment. My room was perfectly clean, but the living room and kitchen could never stay that way long.
I dreaded the drive home. Work was a blissful escape from my home life, and now it had come to an end. Mechanically, I forced myself into the driver’s seat and made the familiar trek back to my apartment complex. I took about 15 minutes in the parking spot before I summoned the strength to get out and start walking to the building.
Before I even opened the door, I could hear video games inside, cranked up so every gunshot banged in my ears. I unlocked the door and swung it open, greeted with the sight of my boyfriend, Jason, lounged across the couch. A headset dangled from his ear, a bag of potato chips in his crotch, and I could see soda stains on his tank top—which, aside from a pair of underwear, was the only thing he was wearing.
He didn’t see me when I walked in. I closed the door behind me and considered shuffling off to my room. It would be easier to ignore him. It would be my fault if I didn’t ignore him. I closed my eyes and remembered when we first met, when he’d hold my hand and ask about my day. The man who had a job, imperfect as it was, and had dreams.
“I started working with a new couple today,” I said. I instantly felt like kicking myself for not just walking away, for even attempting to talk.
Jason didn’t say anything.
“They’re cute. They’re from Houston, too; they said they grew up together.” I found myself talking more freely. I didn’t have any
thing to lose. “They’re nice guys, and I think it’ll be a really nice wedding.”
“Guys? They’re gay?” Jason didn’t pause or lower the volume while he talked.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s all you got from that?” I shouldn’t have been surprised by his response. In all my time working as a wedding planner, he’d never really cared about my job, and since he’d stopped being kind to me, he’d let his bigotry show more and more flagrantly.
“It’s gross.” Jason focused on hitting a particular button for a couple of seconds.
I thought of Stephen and Greg in their well-fitted outfits and polite mannerisms and then looked at Jason, who was now literally scratching his ass and probably hadn’t put on a clean shirt in a very, very long time. It wasn’t like he had a job to dress up for. “At least they’re engaged.”
Jason hit pause. I knew I was in trouble. Any time his attention was fully on me, it wasn’t a good thing—but it’s what I had been asking for, right? I started inching back towards my room as he turned his stare to me. He tossed his controller to the side and sat up, crushing the potato chips in his lap in the process. “What are you trying to say?” he barked.
“It’s been three years.” I knew better than to try to talk to him. I could practically see where this conversation was going to go, and yet my hopes that it might be different this time steered me to continue to talk. “It’s been three years, and I don’t have anything from you.”
“I got you this apartment, didn’t I?” Jason stood up. I backed up towards my room.
“That I pay the rent for,” I retorted. “Since you quit your job. And won’t get a new one. And I get that you’re looking, Jason, and I know the economy blows right now. I just get so tired of going in circles.”
“You don’t appreciate a goddamn thing I do for you!” he shouted. “I clean the toilets, I do my laundry, and I’ve been looking for a job for the last six months!”
I knew he hadn’t, but I still nodded as though it were the most believable truth in the world. “I just… I just want some kind of sign from you. I don’t know if you even care anymore.” I meant to shout back at him, but instead, I whispered. “Do you even want to be together? Would you ever marry me?”
