Chapter 16
In His Eyes
It’s Wednesday, and I haven’t seen Vincent all week. Lena said he’s at the L.A. office finalizing the inception of Prime D TV. The drama channel is a novel idea. It plays original one-hour and half-hour dramas during the early morning, daytime, and primetime day parts. It costs a bunch but A&Rt Media is investing a lot of money in the channel’s first year, and according to the memo from Vincent, failure is not an option.
Gabrielle is with him. According to Robert, they’re solidly back on the marriage track.
I’ve been in meetings with publishers and editors regarding the reach and viability of a new online lifestyle magazine. Robert has been in almost every single meeting, leering at me when he thinks I’m not looking and ignoring me when I do.
Caitlyn Lewis, a strawberry blonde with a pretty face, explains her ideas for the style portion of the magazine. “Only high-end fashion, the top fashion weeks, designer spotlights, and an up-and-coming designer and model section.”
Everything she says makes me squirm. Robert allows her to throw out half-cooked ideas while they shamelessly make eyes at each other.
I raise my hand. “Excuse me. That’s being done already, and our demographic isn’t buying it,” I say before Robert could say that her idea is good when it’s not.
Caitlyn riles back as if I’ve just threatened to slap her. “I disagree.”
There’s a smidgen of smugness in Robert’s grin. It suddenly occurs to me that he let her go on with her borrowed ideas just to get a rise out of me.
“I understand,” I say with a smile. “Those are great ideas, which is why they’re being done already. In my opinion, it’s best to think of information as a commodity. The more consumers interested in what you’re selling, the more successful the product. High-end fashion is very niche. While we shouldn’t ignore that demographic, why don’t you try to think of ways to merge demographics? Think of it as inviting fashion buffs and ordinary women to the same party. Plan for them all to mingle and get along. Your ideas should be the activities for this party.” Now I’m the smug one. Robert intended to start a catfight but didn’t get one.
Caitlyn frowns. The fact that I took the tactful and instructive approach doesn’t mean she knows her shit. I’m sure she’s drawing a blank.
“Do you have any examples?” he asks me.
“Well, yes,” I say casually. “Let’s take the Girl on the Streets column. It’s a popular sectional. What if you can make the average girl see herself in that article? Fashion isn’t restricted to L.A., New York, London, and Paris. Let’s do the Girl on the Street in Dayton and Manhattan side by side. Lead our readership to believe that next we could be writing about their cute outfit, and make it look just as stylish as the girl at fashion week.”
Robert winks at me. “Once again, Maggie saves the fallen.”
I’m not sure if he was being sarcastic or complimentary. Probably both.
“Does any of what she said compute?” he asks Caitlyn, to my surprise.
“Some, but—”
“That’s not the answer I was looking for. Maggie’s not content; she’s marketing. I don’t expect her to do your job too.”
Caitlyn’s eyes turn watery. I shake my head. I have a few choice words for Robert, but I’ll wait until after the meeting to hurl them at him. We move further down the agenda. The ideas for the other sections of the magazine are right in line with the market demographic. My input is minor.
At the conclusion of the meeting, Caitlyn cuts her eyes at Robert and storms out. They’ve definitely slept together.
“Maggie, could I have a word?” he says as the others clear out.
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” I reply.
The last person leaves. He smirks and pulls out a chair for me.
I take the seat. “Yes?”
“Let’s call a truce,” he says.
“I didn’t know we were at war.”
“Not a war but certainly a scrimmage.”
“Didn’t know that either,” I say.
“You haven’t spoken to me since Aspen.”
“I’ve been answering all of your questions.”
He tilts his head. “Come on, Maggie.”
I sigh, relenting. “Have we shared our deep, dark secrets? No. But we’re not friends; we’re colleagues.”
“I thought we were friends.”
“You did?”
“Yes, I did. If we’re not, then I’d like for us to be. Maggie…” He has a giddy look in his eyes. “Will you be my friend?”
I blurt out a laugh. “Only if it’ll end this strange conversation we’re having.”
He flirtatiously lifts his eyebrows. “It will, but that means we’ll have to behave as if we’re friends. We’ll say good morning to each other and good night. Perhaps we’ll grab lunch, dinner, and a kiss or two.”
I snort. “You’re an ass.”
“That was a joke. Ha. Ha. Ha.”
I laugh a little. “It’s my turn to ask a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why is Caitlyn editor of fashion? I don’t think she’s up for the job. She certainly looks fashionable, but that’s as far as it goes.”
“Jealous?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “I know that would excite you, but alas, I am not. I think she has a lot to learn. She could learn it if she were a willing student, but something tells me she’s not. And may I be more frank?”
“Have I f*cked her? Yes.”
I shrug. “There you have it. She’s only as good as the first f*ck she had to do to climb the corporate ladder.”
Robert studies me with narrowed eyes. “Point taken and under consideration.”
“That’s all I needed to ask.” I stand and so does he.
“One more thing.” He takes a designer envelope out of his coat pocket. “It’s going to happen.”
I hesitate but take the envelope and open it. I read the words announcing the upcoming nuptials of Vincent Brock Adams and Gabrielle Belle Rossetto. I stuff the invitation into the envelope and give it back. “That was quick.”
I haven’t seen or heard from Vincent since Thursday night when we quickly and passionately made love. Maybe that was his last hurrah.
“Not really,” Robert says without a grain of sympathy for my aching heart. “They’ve been engaged long enough.”
I clear my throat and gaze at my shoes. I’m in a knock-down, drag-out fight with my tears. Crying won’t help. “Okay, well, thanks for listening.”
I turn to walk away, and his hand comes down on my shoulder. I stop. Robert has moved so close that I feel his chest rising and falling against my back.
“You’re my goal, Maggie. Just thought I should warn you.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. He smells good. The warmth of his nearness feels good. I still don’t like him very much and am eons away from loving him. “Consider me warned.”
I get out of there before I let him throw me on the table and pound me until the pain goes away. As soon as I make it back to my desk, I check my messages. Jack called. He’s pushing our get-together in Martha’s Vineyard back a week. I twist my mouth into a pout. I was counting on getting away this weekend.
“Maggie,” Lena says, leaning halfway into my office, “I need you to fly out to L.A. tonight. The new drama channel is a go, and they want you at the meeting tomorrow so that you can start framing a marketing strategy.”
“Oh,” I say, trying to contain my excitement. “I thought I was only handling publications, web, and apps?”
“We’ve decided to let you walk the gold-paved road to TV.” She winks.
“I’ll book my flight!”
“I think the company jet is available this evening.”
“I’d rather fly commercial if you don’t mind.” I want to decrease the risk of Robert infringing on my peace. I have a feeling he’ll be in that meeting, especially since we both know that Vincent’s in L.A.
“Your choice!” she says and goes off on her merry way.
I book my flight on my own debit card. I had just received my last payday from Make It Work, Inc. The overtime and vacation hours I stored up paid off in a big way and right on time. My funds were beginning to run low. I’m two days away from my first big A&Rt payday, which will be five times my old salary. As a gift to myself, I plan to move out of my mom’s condo and into my very own apartment. I’m considering Midtown, Tribeca, or the Meatpacking District.
I hurry home, pack, and take a cab to Kennedy. I tip like most people who live in my building.
The cabbie gives me his card and says, “Call if you need a ride back.”
Since I didn’t book a ticket in advance, I was able to purchase a first class seat at a lower rate. The flight is smooth and relaxing. I take a cab to a hotel near the office in Century City. I check in, ride the elevator up to my room, strip out of my flight-stained clothes, and slip into a complimentary bathrobe. After an hour of sitting on the bed reading the Prime D TV proposal, I take a break and call Monroe.
She picks up on the first ring. “I miss you!”
“I’m in town!” I sing.
“What are you doing tonight?” She’s overzealous.
“Sleeping. I have a meeting early in the morning, and I can’t be drowsy.”
Monroe doesn’t have a reasonable bedtime. She’d keep me out until the roosters crow if I let her. “Okay, Little House on the Prairie, but tomorrow night, you’re mine!”
I chuckle. “If you only knew what I’ve been up to, you would promote me to Six Feet Under.”
“Do tell.”
I tell her about my last night with Vincent. “But I saw his wedding invitation today.”
She gasps. “He sent you one?”
“It was sent to Robert Tango.”
“Robert’s his business partner and the guy you had a crush on in high school, right?”
“Yes and yes, but he grew up to be a jackass. He’s always hitting on me. Early today, he said that I was his goal.”
“Oh!” She’s intrigued. “Is he cute?”
“He’s a scoundrel. He’s slept with half the women in the company. He just wants me to be another notch on his belt.”
“I would say ‘so what?’ but since he’s Vincent’s business partner, I would wait until Vincent is married. Then do him at least once.”
“Maybe I can introduce the two of you. He could be a diversion from your own personal catastrophe just waiting to happen—and you know who I’m referring to.”
She’s silent for a moment. “I can’t stop thinking about him, Mags. I know you think Charlie has the cooties…”
“He does. He really, really does. Remember that.”
“You have such a low opinion of your own flesh and blood.”
“Charlie is lost in Neverland, and Peter Pan, the Lost Boys, and Tinker Bell evicted him because he’s not even grown up enough for them!”
Her laughter erupts in my ear. “You are so hard on him!”
“I don’t want to be. I’m hoping one day I don’t have to be.”
“From your lips…”
“Yep.”
“And Mags, I know you, and I know you’re hurt. But you’re beautiful and smart and sexy, even if you can’t see it. A prince will find you soon, Cinderella.”
I’m touched, and I pause to let her words marinate. I chuckle. “Are you saying I’ve moved out of the Little House on the Prairie?” Then I remember. “I forgot to mention that I’m finally moving out of my mother’s condo.”
Our conversation lasts for three hours. I feel good when I close my eyes to sleep. No one can remind me how happy I am like Monroe.
I wake up nervous. It’s a new day, and I might run into Vincent. If that happens, then what? Do we speak? Do I wish him good luck on his upcoming nuptials? The best thing to do is ignore him. If we must speak, then keep it business. I’ll never quit my job because I’m in love with one of my bosses.
Even as I prepare for the day, I’m already getting over him. I brought a pale gray, below-the-knee pencil skirt suit. I look like a femme fatale in a film noir movie. It’s one of the suits Monroe gave me.
I’d ordered and received the shampoo and conditioner I’d used in Vincent’s Aspen vacation house. So after this morning’s wash, my hair is as fluffy and silky as if I’ve gone to the salon. I glide on pink rose lipstick and brush on mascara.
I take a moment to examine the woman in the mirror. She has pink cheeks, bright eyes, and a cute little bow mouth. I’ve never seen her before, but she and I are certainly the same person. I rush out of the bathroom, grab my briefcase, and leave. When I make it to the lobby, I ask the concierge to call me a cab.
“Maggie Conroy?” he asks.
“Yes. That’s me,” I say impatiently. In L.A., time is of the essence. It could take thirty minutes to drive a mile up the road.
“There’s a car waiting for you out front.”
“There is?” That’s news to me.
He motions to a black sedan with tinted windows. Robert’s probably in the back seat. I hesitate. Since L.A. traffic is so unpredictable, I thank the concierge and trot out to the car. I’m pleasantly surprised to learn that I’m riding solo.
The driver drops me off in front of a tall mirror-glass building on Avenue of the Stars. After receiving a badge to ride up to the twenty-seventh floor, I hurry into a packed elevator.
“Hold it!” a familiar voice calls.
The guy near the control panel hits the open doors button. Vincent Adams squeezes in. He does a double take when he sees me. I’m frozen stiff. He weaves his way to the back of the cab to stand beside me. My stomach turns flips.
“How are you, Maggie?”
I gaze up at his attractive face. “Fine,” I croak.
“Good.” He sounds formal.
The doors open on our floor. I walk out ahead of him. Robert is already there, shooting the breeze with the pretty receptionist. He glares at Vincent and me as we walk side-by-side in his direction.
“Good morning, Vince, Maggie,” he says dryly.
“Morning,” I sing artificially. “Where’s the Prime D TV meeting?” I ask the receptionist. Never let them see you sweat—Valerie Beacon’s rule number two.
Her eyes flick between Robert and me. “It’s in the war room. I’ll show you.”
“Thanks.” I smile bigger.
“That’s okay. I’ll show her. We’re all going to the same place.” Robert glances at Vincent behind me.
The awkward moments are compiling. I gesture for Robert to lead the way. Vincent is still behind me, and I feel as if our souls want to embrace. I catch my breath and try to focus on what I came here to do.
The workers in the cubicles on both sides of the pathway regard us curiously. I’m sure Prime D TV is the talk of the office. The launch is major, and I’m damn happy to be part of it. More than likely, they know who I am and how quickly I’ve risen up the A&Rt Media Group ranks. The fact that I’m sandwiched between Robert and Vincent screams cronyism, which means I have to prove myself. I’m more than happy to accept the challenge.
The war room is comprised of one massive table and the walls are covered with whiteboards. Half the seats are occupied. Conversations come to an abrupt halt as soon as we walk in. Vincent touches my hip before breaking off in the opposite direction. His handprint has a ghost effect; I can still feel it there.
Robert sits beside me. Vincent is directly across from me. They both engage in conversations with other people, but their focus stays trained on me.
“Maggie?” Robert nudges my shoulder.
I realize I’ve been staring at Vincent. “Yes?” I’m jittery.
“This is Lambert Edgington, Head of Corporate Finance.”
“Oh, we spoke before.” I lean across Robert’s lap to shake Lambert’s hand. The tip of Robert’s nose brushes against my temple.
“Let’s talk later about your department’s operation budget?” Lambert says.
“Sure. Tell me the time, and I’ll be there.”
Robert’s nose follows me as I sit upright. I give him a quick nasty look.
“Let’s get started!” Vincent announces, staring daggers at his business partner.
The room has filled to capacity, including people standing around the table. Robert and Vincent do most of the talking. I keep my head down and take notes. Robert keeps brushing against my arm and leaning toward me. Vincent definitely notices.
I don’t do any talking, just a lot of listening. By the end, I’m asked to have a marketing strategy for eight original programs and five syndicated ones. The deal is to run five syndicated dramas produced and aired by other networks per broadcast season.
Robert slyly scoots his chair closer to mine. “Maggie, I’ll meet with your team in New York on Monday. Vince, you’re still here in L.A. on Monday?”
“Yes,” he says past clenched teeth. He goes from glaring at Robert to studying me.
I can hardly sit still. My breaths are uneven as I wait for the man I love to call the meeting to an end. When he does, I leap out of my seat and rush past my curious colleagues who are waiting to have a word with me. This entire situation is more than I can bear.
I ask the first woman I see where to find the restroom. I follow her directions, walking fast. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Watching Vincent address me along with others was hard. Those sexy creases framing his mouth and his bedroom eyes gave me flashbacks. I’m not sure if I can pretend as if I don’t want him for much longer when I obviously do.
“Maggie,” Vincent calls before I reach the ladies’ room.
He’s close. I brace myself, attempting to take as much of the grief out of my expression as possible.
“Yes?” I sing with the same fake chipper tone I used earlier.
“What did you think about the meeting?”
I hesitate. Is that really why he followed me? “I’m excited. I welcome the challenge.” There goes my fake enthusiasm again.
“Good.” He nods. “Good.”
As we stand there staring at each other, I lose the battle. “Damn.” I turn my head and swipe tears from one of my eyes.
He moves closer and puts a finger under my chin to lift my face. “I don’t want to make you cry.”
I sniff and swipe the other eye. “No, no, I’m not crying because of you. I think I’m just jetlagged or something. Traveling between time zones is wearing on me.” I put on a smile to show him I’m fine. “Oh, and I heard about the wedding. I wish you happiness. I truly do.”
Vincent narrows one eye. “You do?”
Now I don’t look so sure about it. “Well, yeah. I want you to be happy.”
He steps closer. We tilt our heads in different directions. Our lips are this close to merging. “You think that’s possible if I don’t have you?”
The bathroom door opens. I pull back, but Vincent doesn’t.
It’s the receptionist, and she’s startled. “Oh!” She glances back before she rounds the corner.
Vincent hasn’t broken eye contact yet. “I’ll see you soon.” He turns, and I watch his alluring figure walk away.
At least my heart no longer aches. Now I’m just confused, wondering what the hell just happened.