Nigel dropped me off in front of a brick townhouse on Prince Street. I double-checked the address on my iPhone, thinking that ZAP! might be housed in slightly more corporate headquarters. But sure enough, this was where the agency was located. My courteous driver opened the passenger door for me. Hopping out, I told him I would call him after the meeting was over.
Once inside the building, I stepped into the reception area. Unlike the stark, leather and chrome waiting areas of the Madison Avenue Madmen agencies I’d met with, this one was warm and funky, filled with eccentric mid-century furnishings and a shag carpet that reminded me a little of the hotel I was staying at. The blazing orange letters—ZAP!—were hung like giant puzzle pieces on the bright yellow wall behind the receptionist’s jet-age console. She was an artsy-looking girl in her early twenties who sported a graphic Jim Morrison tee and several tattoos on her bare arms. She was a far cry from the impeccably groomed young women who manned the front desk at those other ad agencies I’d visited.
“I have a ten o’clock meeting with Jaime Zander,” I told her.
She glanced at her computer screen and asked me if I was Gloria Long.
“Yes.”
“Cool.”
She dialed an extension, announcing my arrival to whoever was on the receiving end. I assumed it was Jaime’s assistant. “Someone will be right out to bring you back to Jaime’s office. Make yourself comfy.”
Before I could take a seat on the elliptical couch, a twenty-something man with inky blue hair and an earring sashayed into the reception area to fetch me. He was very attractive, very stylish, and very gay. He smiled brightly at me, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. “I’m Ray, Jaime’s assistant. Jaime is so looking forward to meeting you. Follow me.”
Though younger, he reminded me a lot of my best friend and head of Public Relations, Kevin Riley, who was uptown at the Lexington Avenue Armory preparing for the highly anticipated pre-Valentine’s Day Gloria’s Secret Fashion Show. My assistant, Vivien Holden, was there too. Right after this meeting, I would be rushing uptown to join them. As always on one of these business trips to New York, we had a hell of a lot going on. In fact, too much. The sooner I got out of New York, the better. Boris Borofsky was lurking out there somewhere. Inwardly, I shuddered.
With my briefcase in hand, I followed hip-swaying Ray through a gutted space to the end office. I liked the way everyone sat in the open and was immersed in their work. My eyes took in the posters for various ad campaigns that lined the walls. Most of them were familiar and indeed quite memorable.
“Jaime had to run down the hall to check out a spot we just produced for one of our clients and will be right back. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” I said, surveying my surroundings and deciding where to sit. I chose a Scandinavian armchair over the couch. Sitting tall and cross-legged in a chair was always more empowering than sitting laid back in a couch. I liked to be in control of a meeting, especially when it was with someone I didn’t know.