Nerves couldn’t come close to describing what I had going on in my stomach. These were atomic Kung Fu butterflies, using the lining in there as a punching bag. Had I eaten anything, I’d be nauseous, but I’d known better.
“Gentlemen,” Corban said, and the gazes shifted from me to him. “Thanks for meeting with me again on such short notice. As you may have heard, my previous caterer did not work out.”
“That’s because she wasn’t approved and she wasn’t an event planner,” one of the men said. His slicked back blond hair could’ve been a helmet. It moved about as much when he turned his head. He looked like he’d be a perfect talking head for the evening news.
“Thank you for that, Timothy,” Corban said. “I decided that we needed a more tactical approach if we plan on securing the Minnesota Twins account. For that reason, I’ve hired Miss Luna Faye as our event planner. She’s very experienced and comes highly recommended. She’s also a local.”
I didn’t wave. I did gulp, though and gave a tenuous smile to the designer suited execs of Unique. One or two of them gave me a she looks familiar look, but I was hoping my darker hair and glasses would camouflage me enough. So far so good.
“Miss Faye has been planning events such as these for years, and she’s prepared a presentation for you gentleman to view today,” Corban said and gestured toward me. “Miss Faye, I’ll hand the floor over to you.”
This was my cue. I had to take it away and bring it back home all within the span of a half hour. That was all the time they’d given me.
Corban took one of the vacant seats at the end of the table.
“Thank you, uh, thank you, Mr. Drake,” I said and flushed. The men watched me closely. I tried for a smile, but it slipped from my face. “I’ve been, um, I’ve been working in this industry for many, a lot of years.”
Oh god. Had I just said ‘many, a lot of years?’ Why was I forever looking like an incompetent airhead in front of this man? He seemed to bring out the worst in me as my poise flew the coop. I inhaled and concentrated on measured breathing so I wouldn’t face plant on the mahogany meeting table. The damn thing was so shiny I could see my terrorized expression shining back at me through the grain of the wood.
That Timothy guy sniggered behind his hand. Corban shot him a stern look and focused on me again.
I tried to inject confidence into my attitude. “And, um, yes, so – let’s get started.” Worst. Introduction. Ever. Had I really lost my touch to this extent? I used to pride myself on my carriage and elegance. Thorn had taken everything from me. I was a pathetic shell of the woman he’d left behind. A year had passed since I’d worked on anything this big and I thought it would be just like riding a bike.
Now, I’d have to pick myself up by my bootstraps. I turned and strolled toward the laptop on the lectern. The toe of my high heel hooked on the overhead cord, and I careened forward. My arms pinwheeled. I slapped my hands onto the mahogany conference table, inches from splatting.
Silence greeted my stumble. That and pure mortification. Even though I couldn’t see my coloring in the wooden mirror, my entire body ignited in a heat so flaming I knew my skin had flushed crimson.
The executive closest to me grabbed my upper arm and helped me up. “You all right?”
Chuckles floated around the room, and my temples throbbed. I contemplated fleeing the scene again, but I’d already tried that, and he still hadn’t fired me. Man must be a glutton for punishment. Escape wouldn’t work. I’d never been this clumsy in front of just one person. A hot person but just a person nonetheless.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I said.
The executive, a handsome guy with dark mocha skin, touched a finger to my cheek. “You’ve got a pen mark, right here,” he murmured. “Might want to wipe it off.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying to express my gratitude with the strength of my gaze.
“And maybe you can use that pen to give me your–”
“That’s enough,” Corban said and clapped his hands. Everyone sat back down, but the laughter didn’t fade. It rolled around the room and mocked me.
“But she clearly needs some help,” Timothy said. “Do you need some help, Miss Faye? I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
Corban glared at him.
“Seriously, Drake. I’ve got better things to do than indulge a clumsy Betty Crocker. Why does it matter which caterer we use for the Twins event? They’re guys. They eat. They drink. They don’t give a shit, and neither do I.”
“Timothy, I’ve asked you to be here to watch the presentation. Period.”
The atmosphere in the boardroom iced over. Oh, no. Now I’d gone and pissed Corban off. That tone. It dripped censure and frosty impatience.
“I’m fine, thank you. Thank you,” I repeated.
Everyone resumed their seats again.
“As I was – um. Where was I?” I asked and laughed out loud.
“That’s it,” Corban grunted. “Miss Faye, I think I speak for all of us when I say that this is very important to Unique–”
“And the Minnesota Twins,” I said, finding the repressed strength and infusing my voice with a flickering confidence.
Another round of quiet settled through the room. The men shifted in their chairs and Corban hesitated. He’d been on the cusp of taking over for me. How humiliating. But I could do this. I could.
The timber of my voice had changed. The fear of losing my one opportunity to pay my electricity bill this month had given me that confidence I’d sought.
Corban shut his mouth.
I reached over and clicked the button on the laptop. The slide show started with an image of the baseball team, decked out in their uniforms. “There’s nothing that rallies the folks in the state together like America’s pastime. Major League Baseball. And there’s no team more loved and admired than our very own Twins.” I knew that first hand. “It’s the reason people travel across the state to see them play. And it’s the reason the Twins deserve Unique treatment.” I placed special emphasis on the unique.
Judging by the way they sat up in their chairs, the executives got the message.
“And that’s exactly what we’re going to give them,” I said and clicked again. I leveled the pointer at the next image that popped up on the screen – a cake I’d taken directly from my dessert portfolio.
“This is the three layer Twins cake Wuollet Bakery produced for another event. I’ve already contacted them, and they’d be thrilled to produce an identical one and deliver it to the venue on time. At a discounted price, of course.”
That news perked them up even more. Nothing got the big wigs drooling like reduced costs and increased profit margins.
“But sweets aren’t the only thing we’re concerned with. We’ll source wines, champagne, and craft beers from some of the best suppliers in the city.” I clicked to the next slide. “Many of whom I’ve worked with in the past. One of the star catchers has a penchant for Mexican craft beer. This will be provided to his exact specifications.”
Corban nodded at that and glanced down the table at the others. Each one had tilted their head to the side or narrowed their eyes. They were into it. Oh god, was I actually going to pull this off?
Praise the Lord.
“But none of the food will matter if the ambiance isn’t perfect,” I continued. “In place of hotdog stands or concession tables, we’ll organize the locker room’s lounge suite to form an informal cocktail bar setting. This will include live music.”
“What?” Timothy piped up. “How are you going to pull off live music in a locker room?”
I hadn’t finished and asked for questions, but I’d expected an interruption on this point. There was always one in every bunch, and it appeared that the one for Unique was the snarky and helmet-headed Timothy. He could audition for a Duracell commercial. I graced him with my most charming smile, but he interrupted again before I could respond.
“We didn’t agree to a live band,” Timothy said. “That would c
ost a lot of money. Money we don’t have because we already spent the entire discretionary fund on your original shitty caterer.”
“The Twins are worth it, though,” one of the other guys replied and leaned forward. “If we get that account, it opens the door for the Vikings, Timberwolves, and Wild. Unique can afford to pay for that. It’s an investment.”
“It’s a moot point, gentlemen,” I said and drew their attention back to the presentation. “The band I’ve selected has already agreed to play for the Twins event for two sets. They’re doing it for free.”
“Who are they?” Corban asked in his chocolate syrup voice.
“Owl City,” I said, with no small amount of pride. Through a sheer stroke of luck, Larissa had been good friends with Adam Young in college. I’d called in the favor, and she contacted him immediately. Since he was a huge baseball fan and would be able to meet the team, he jumped at the chance for the personal meet and greet along with the exposure the band would get to people with deep pockets.
I wasn’t going down without a fight. I wanted this damn job, and I’d get it.
“You got Owl City to play two sets for free?” Timothy asked, cynicism dripping from his voice.
“I did,” I said. “Now, let’s get back to the presentation.”
The men quieted again, laser focused on me and the slides.
“The live band is merely a part of the experience. The baseball heroes will have access to local Minnesotan cuisine in addition to the gourmet fare. I think it’s important to focus on a local tradition. The Tater Tot,” I said.
“This isn’t a Tater Tot event,” Timothy snapped.
I ignored him totally. “Prepared by a Michelin star chef. All the food will be plated as if it were being served in a fancy restaurant.”
I flicked through the slides and continued the talk, walking them through the basic points and the finer details. They paid rapt attention, and I finally had them eating out of the palm of my hand. Timothy shut up at last and kept his lips glued together. His eyes sparkled though.
Ten minutes later, I was done, and the boardroom filled with a smattering of applause.
“Great,” Corban said. “Great. Any thoughts?”
“I like it,” Timothy put in, and I had to clamp my mouth shut when it hung open in shock. A murmur of assent trickled in from the other big heads in the room.
Corban looked just as surprised. He shook it off. “Good. Then we’ll go ahead with your plan, Miss Faye. We’ll come up with a list of amendments, should there be any, and forward them to you via email before the end of the day. I’m certain you’ll be on the details as soon as you leave here today?”
“Absolutely. Thank you,” I said, and my knees gave an involuntary wobble. I’d nailed it, relatively speaking. Apart from the initial stumble that might haunt my dreams for the remainder of my living days. “Thanks. I’ll see myself out.”
Corban doled out a smile that made my insides squirm. I slipped out into the hall and shut the conference room door behind me, then exhaled through my nose.
Hooray!
This might’ve been the meeting that changed my life for the better. I didn’t want to have to redeem myself for what happened with Thorn, but this was a step toward that and a future without judgment.
Or rotten tomatoes.
I hurried down the hall and to the elevator that would take me back down to the stylish lobby. Larissa would want to hear all about the presentation over lunch.
Chapter 6: Corban
The door shut behind Luna and plunged my mind into a chaotic spin of self-doubt and guilt. I’d judged her exactly the same way Twin Cities Magazine and everybody else judged me – looks first, acumen later. What in the hell was wrong with me? My mother would slap my face if she knew the bent of my thoughts. I wasn’t raised to be a superficial, chauvinistic bastard.
I owed Luna an apology. I probably owed her personal prostration at the floor in front of her stilettos. She’d come in here bumbling and pressing all my warning buttons but ended up taking control of the room. The presentation had been a resounding success. And now, I felt nothing other than… impressed. And turned on. So much so the swelling in my pants was becoming an annoyance.
The last slide of Luna’s speech remained on the screen. She’d used my laptop to play it, since she’d left hers at home. I couldn’t help admiring her presence under pressure. Every man inside the Loon conference room had been wary, distrusting, and then enamored. It wasn’t even based on the fact that she happened to be model gorgeous – a fact of which she seemed totally unaware. She’d won them over on sheer capability and poise.
A true professional, passionate and interested in how her skill set could help Unique. Her plan for the event could work, though I wasn’t sold on the idea of a live band. Owl City was cool, but how well would the Twins respond to them?
We needed to keep the aesthetic just right – in keeping with the brand.
I bent and retrieved my notepad from my briefcase, then plopped it on the table. The other guys hadn’t done the same. Instead, they talked among themselves, sly grins tugging at the corners of their lips. I could imagine every single one of them undressing Luna with their lascivious eyes and wondering if she’d be interested in their moldy asses. For some reason, I already felt protective of her. Maybe it was the bumbling that was so damn sweet and endearing. I didn’t know for sure, but for Luna, I’d keep the wolves at bay.
I flattened the page on top of the table and lifted my pen. “All right. We need to decide what we like and don’t like before we go ahead. Does anyone have any notes on Miss Faye’s presentation?”
“I’ve got your notes right here,” Timothy said and drew his business card out of his pocket. He flashed his number and one of the sleazy grins he used to get women to blow him under his desk while his heavily pregnant wife waited for him at home.
The man sickened me, but I couldn’t say anything about his extracurricular activities – he was the CEO’s son. An automatic silver spoon in his dirty mouth and a first-class ticket to the top. One of the accountants had discovered irregular spending and linked it back to Timothy – he’d used his company card to book hotels and spa treatments for several of his conquests.
Timothy hadn’t been let go. The accountant had. Ever since that day, many employees at Unique had turned a blind eye to the shenanigans of the heir apparent.
“Focus,” I said.
The CEO’s son smirked at me – he knew it wasn’t my place to tell him to do anything. We delighted in yanking each other’s chains. I knew just how far I could push him without getting in trouble with my boss, and I made use of that knowledge whenever I could. I was an asset to the company, and my meteoric rise said it all. Nothing could get me fired outside of an epic fuck up.
“I’m glad we’ve got the event approved,” I said. “And I liked the idea of the cake and the specialty beer in particular. What about–?”
“Man, did you see the ass on her?” George said from across the table. He spanked the air above it. “Fuck, I’d eat that booty like groceries.”
“That’s not appropriate,” I said, contemplating a trip to HR. So much for a non-hostile work environment. These guys were dogs. Horndogs. Thank god, they wouldn’t get the opportunity to work closely with Luna.
George continued, “We’re gonna have to set up an office pool to see who can bang her first. Winner takes the pot.”
“I’ll take that bet.” Lucas actually brought out a platinum engraved money clip and waved it above his head. “I’ll lay down a thousand.”
“I’ll match it.”
“She’s gonna like what I’ve got for her. She can burn her ruler; she’s gonna need her yardstick. Raise the pot another hundred.”
Laughter rolled around the table.
I clenched my fists to keep the tremors from infiltrating my rigid body. I’d never wanted to stand up and knock a couple of heads together more in my life. These jackasses couldn’t hold a candle to Luna. She’d wa
lked in here and showed them how a presentation was done, how much talent she had, and all they cared about was how good she looked in a skirt.
“I’ll raise you two hundred.” George whipped out his wallet. “I got to touch her, guys. Silky smooth. I’ve got the inside edge.”
“Fuck that. She didn’t exactly cream her panties over you.”
“Ooh, panties? I bet it’s a thong. Even better yet, commando. Man, I’m gonna hammer that–”
“Cool it,” I said, and couldn’t keep the growl from my tone. “This is unacceptable. Even though there aren’t any of our female executives present, this talk could be considered offensive. Sexual harassment even.”
The laughter cut off, and the guys looked over at me. Timothy snorted. George raised an eyebrow.
“You feeling harassed by it? You’re not my mother, Drake. What the fuck? You into that chick or something?” Timothy asked.
George slapped his thigh. “Look at his face. He is. He’s totally into her. Fuck, that’s hilarious. Rookie mistake, man, falling for the sweet piece of ass that’s got your promotion tied up in the strength of her Crème Brûlée. I wonder if she tastes as sweet.”
“Pussy whipped,” Timothy said. “You never get too deep, bro. That’s a one-way ticket to bankruptcy. Those bitches will suck you dry. And not in a good way. Trust me, I’ve got firsthand experience.”
That was how he spoke about his wife. Classy guy. I clamped my eyes shut because I couldn’t even stand the sight of him.
“The event planner?” Lucas scrubbed his fingers through his short, curly hair. “You’re kidding, right. The event planner. Man, that ain’t good for more than one night. She’s smokin’, but she’s not pay-her-bills smokin’.”
“I guess you can’t put a price on what a man will do for pussy,” George said. “But hey, maybe I’ll get to her first. I’ve got something real big to show her.”
“Stop it,” I growled.
“Stop it,” George mimicked me, and the room filled with laughter again. “Damn, you’re in too deep already. This asshole over here needs one in the pink and–”
Wasted Vows Page 6
