Chapter 4
Peek-a-boo
It’s Friday. The week went by so fast and the days were so long that I didn’t have time to meet up with my girlfriends. I sat through two days of orientation, which included the company’s creed, how they got started, and every product under their belt. I signed papers for Human Resources and met with bank representatives to discuss my 401(k) package and special profit-sharing option. On Thursday, Linda and I spent most of the day preparing for today’s meeting.
I’m running a little late, so I speed walk to the building and through the lobby. I don’t have to wait long for the elevator. Once inside, I push my way to the back of the cab, close my eyes, and try to steady my breathing. My head is spinning and a thick film of perspiration layers my skin. A lot of scents swirl in the air, but one stands out. I open my eyes. Vincent Adams is at the front of the cab, facing forward. I shuffle a little to the left to hide behind two tall men.
The boss keeps his face forward. The doors slide open, and he steps out first. I creep out behind him, looking like a wet rat. I cut a sharp turn in the opposite direction even though my office is directly across the floor. The meeting starts in ten minutes, so there’s no time to go to the restroom and freshen up. I take the long way to my office only to see that Vincent’s office is right across from mine. His door is open, and he watches me as I plop into my chair and spark up the laptop.
Linda walks in. “I’ve printed out our research and emailed you an outline of everything we discussed yesterday.”
“Shit,” I whisper. My heart is beating out of control. “I didn’t mean to be late. It’s been a hectic couple days.”
“What do you mean late?” Linda says. “You’re early compared to the other managers. And we did the bulk of the work last night. I mean, you came up with most of it, but I feel like I learned a lot.”
I grin. “You did?”
Linda smiles. “Yeah.” She steps up to my desk and leans on it. “And he’s here.” She looks over her shoulder. “Oh my God, he’s watching us.”
“That’s because I’m late,” I whisper.
“I told you, you’re not late.” She lifts her eyebrows. “If I’m lucky, he’s checking out my ass.” She shifts her hips from left to right.
I can’t help but laugh. “By the way, I need you in the meeting with me. We’re a team.”
Her eyes expand. “No way, really?” She stands up straight with her hands on her hips. “You do know you’re rocking the boat, right?”
“Then let there be mutiny,” I joke.
Linda goes away laughing, which seems to spark Vincent Adams’s curiosity. He’s on the telephone, but he’s staring at me. I don’t even think he’s aware of it.
I get the good news that the meeting has been pushed back to eleven a.m. That’s why Linda insisted I’m not late. I take a few minutes to call Jack and get the specs on Vincent Adams.
“Hey, Mags.” He sounds as though I woke him up. “How do you like the job?”
I smirk. “Were you sleeping or have you just finished having sex?”
“Both.” He chuckles. “What do you want, kid?”
“First, I’m not a kid, and second, I want to thank the hell out of you for getting me this job. Jack, you’ve changed my life.”
“You should’ve asked for my help a long time ago. If you’re not happy, Mags, then I can’t be happy.” It sounds as if he’s reprimanding me.
I swivel in my chair to face away from Vincent’s probing eyes. “Yeah.” I feel my smile pulling my mouth in two opposite directions. “Hey, I wanted to ask you… Vincent Adams, do I know him?”
“Yeah, and he remembers you too.”
“He does? From where?”
“Remember those four months you lived with my parents in Denver? He went to school with you.”
“Vincent Adams…” I whisper. “I’m still coming up empty.”
I’m good at forgetting unpleasant experiences. After my parents divorced, my mom moved us to Denver to grieve. Those were the worst four months of my life. They wouldn’t have been so bad if Jack hadn’t already moved to L.A. As soon as he was free to escape Uncle Charles, he did. I don’t blame him. His dad was a supreme a*shole.
“Do you remember Robert Tango? They were best friends.”
I gasp and slap my hand over my mouth. “I do.”
“What’s in that reaction?”
“Nothing. I just had a monumental crush on Robert Tango. He was so cute.”
“All right!” Jack says to someone near him. “Hey, Mags, I have to go. I’m happy you’re happy. Love you.”
“Love you too,” I say. We hang up, and I sense a presence lording over me. I look up at Vincent Adams.
“Here’s the agenda for the meeting.”
I take the paper. I can’t believe the president of the company walked across the aisle to hand me this. “Thanks.”
He turns around but stops in the doorway to face me. “So you’re married?”
I blink, shocked by that question. “No, why?”
“You said ‘I love you.’”
I frown. How in the hell does that equate to marriage? I shake my head. “Oh, I was just talking to Jack, telling him thank you for everything. And, um, thank you too.” I study his expression. So far, he’s been ignoring the fact that he handed me my dream job on a platinum platter.
“Oh, how is Jack? Is he enjoying Malta?”
“I didn’t get a chance to ask, but it’s always roses for him when Daisy’s around.”
Vincent chuckles. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Now that Jack had refreshed my memory, I remember everything about Vincent. I used to stare at Robert Tango relentlessly. I didn’t have any friends during those four months at that Denver high school. Charlie used to send girls who liked him to my class right before lunch and have them walk me to the cafeteria. They told me that he wanted me to meet him in the cafeteria because he had something to tell me.
Three times he got away with it. I was forced to sit and have eye-gouging conversations about boys, makeup, and stupid high school gossip. They wanted to know as much about Charlie as they possibly could. I would never bad-mouth my cousin to a stranger, so I never told them that his intentions are always good, but in the end, he can’t stop himself from being a jackass.
The fourth time he tried to send a poor girl to keep me company during lunchtime, I told her to tell Charlie I said this and flipped her the bird. She gasped as if I’d slapped her. Later, Charlie told me she’d claimed I hurt her feelings.
The girls there were of a different caliber. They were offended by everything, and the only time they could toughen up was when they were drunk. Then they went from delicate to hell bats. There was no in between.
I kind of knew they had no chance with Charlie. He’s always liked chicks who knew how to shove a boot up his ass. When he got older, he’d go on a f*ck-a-thon whenever he flew out to visit us in Manhattan.
Back then, the rumor was that Robert Tango had just broken up with his girlfriend and he liked a girl, except no one knew whom. I swore I was his mysterious love interest. We used to stare at each other from across the cafeteria or gym during co-ed P.E. We grinned at one another whenever we passed in the hallways. We had Advanced Economics together, and he would stare at me a lot during class too. Robert was part of the in crowd.
I’d never noticed Vincent Adams until one day when Robert waved at me. I waved back. Vincent yanked on his collar and whispered in his ear. Whatever he said changed everything. Robert became more careful about the attention he paid me, though he continued to watch me whenever he thought no one was looking. If he wasn’t brave enough to defy his ignorant friends, then screw him. So I stopped noticing him. When my mom was asked to be editor-in-chief of Trend magazine in New York, I didn’t have to think about him anymore.
“I’ll see you in the meeting,” Vincent says and walks back to his office.
Yep, that’s certainly the kid from high school. Back then, he was the cockiest of the bunch. He still has the same copper hair, blue-green eyes, and athletic build. I don’t get why he gave me this job after messing things up between Robert and me. Robert had made me want to hand him my virginity on a platter. We had chemistry, kind of like what’s going on between Vincent and me. Except Vincent is still the popular boy who dates popular girls, and I’m still the chick who thinks boys like that are too boring to notice.
I make some changes to the outline Linda emailed me and send it back to her. Vincent watches me as I take off my jacket. I have a few minutes to grab my bag and go into the restroom and try to brush my saggy hair.
After finding a tie in my bag, I pull my hair into a ponytail. I brush on some mascara and glide a little gloss across my lips. Thank God I put on a black camisole. I keep my blazer off even though my bare shoulders make me look like Casper the Friendly Ghost. At least I have a graceful neck. That’s one complimentary physical attribute that I can’t deny.
I check my watch. We have three minutes before meeting time. Lo and behold, I nearly collide into Vincent on the way out of the bathroom.
“Sorry,” he says as he holds my shoulders.
His hands are damp and warm. I feel as if my spirit is floating above my body. It’s the craziest sensation. We’re trapped in an eye lock, and then he walks away.
I shake it off. I refuse to let awkwardness ruin what I’ve been working for. So what if I knew Vincent Adams in high school? Actually, I can’t even say that I knew him. I really only paid attention to him the day he whispered something about me to Robert.
I collect Linda, and we head into the meeting with two minutes to spare. A lot of people seem surprised to see Linda, especially Lena.
She stops whatever conversation she’s having with another woman. “Good morning, Maggie,” she pauses, “and Linda.”
“Linda and I worked late on some ideas for today’s meeting, and I thought she should be here since we’re a team,” I explain.
“Oh. Well, that sounds great.”
The meeting starts when Vincent walks into the room. He takes the seat at the head of the table. He has a thick notepad, a pen, and a stack of stapled papers.
I can do this. He’s nothing more than the big boss. All that strange business with Robert Tango happened twelve years ago. I’ve changed a lot since then, and apparently he has too.
Vincent flips the pages of the notebook, studying each one. “We have a new marketing manager. Maggie Conroy is in charge of corporate branding.” He looks up. “Lena, how are we doing on the polo match tomorrow?”
Lena hesitates. She seems stunned by how short that introduction was. “We’ve walked the grounds and approved the setup.”
“How’s our visibility?” He’s staring Lena dead in the eyes; it’s as if he’s trying to hypnotize her.
She’s not fazed at all. “We’ve set up a seventy-two-inch monitor. It will loop the Argentina Dine and Divulge and South Beach Best’s segments from (dot)Fine TV.”
“Those are good choices. What about banners?”
“We’re on the left and right of the on-field stage, and there’s one inside of the tent. We’re the only sponsors given permission to display eight by ten banners. I’ve put one at the entrance of the tent and one in the VIP section.”
Vincent writes something in a notebook. “And they’re the ones that we approved?”
“Yes.”
“Maggie, anything to add?” he asks without looking up.
Oh shit. This is a test. All eyes are on me. They’re probably waiting for the golden girl who waltzed in off the streets without a proper interview to fall flat on her face. The trick for now is to keep it together, stay composed.
“I haven’t had the chance to assess the grounds. However, I would think we want to hit them over the head with our presence without hitting them over the head.” I face Lena. “Have we considered who we’re targeting and why?”
“Of course.” Lena slides me the event profile packet. “Page three, section 4a.”
I go directly to it. “If trendy females ages twenty-five through forty-five are your target demographic, then we’re set up in the right places. I like the logo, and the font speaks to them. Do we have a banner in the media station?”
“Actually, no,” Lena says.
“Then you should get one there. When interviews are being done, A&Rt Media should be in the background. You can also probably sneak into a few more areas and”—I flip the page to continue skimming the media coverage section—“maybe you can figure out other ways to get impromptu visibility.”
Vincent finally pins his eyes on me. “I like that. I want you at the event tomorrow.”
I tap Linda’s shoulder. “What time should we be there?”
“I’m sorry, did I miss something? Linda, when were you promoted?” a woman asks. I don’t like her condescending tone.
Linda becomes wide-eyed and tongue-tied.
“She and I are a team,” I reply. “If she’s a marketing assistant, then she needs to be there to assist with marketing tasks.”
“If that’s your choice,” she says.
“That is my choice.”
“Are we now promoting our assistants ourselves?” she complains to Lena.
“Maggie is free to use Linda in whatever capacity she deems fit,” Lena replies.
Everyone watches me. I glance at my hands to calm down. I’m angry and embarrassed about getting riled up only minutes into my first A&Rt meeting. This other manager tried to Cruella La Bitch my assistant for no valid reason. Perhaps she’s jealous. Linda is va-va-voom, and the other lady, who I assume is a manager, is an average pretty brunette with almond eyes and a perfectly symmetrical face.
“Well, that’s settled,” Vincent says, signaling a change in subject.
When I look up, one of the male managers at the end of the table flashes me a tight-lipped smile and a thumbs-up. I smile weakly.
“Keith,” Vincent says so loudly that I jump.
The thumbs-up guy says, “Yes?”
Vincent scowls. “What about the IK app demonstrations?”
“We’re setting them up at the entrance—”
“That’s not the best spot. Have you visited the site?”
“No, but Lena gave us an area scheme—”
“Three times I told you this. You can’t base spatial decisions from paper maps. You have to see it with your own eyes.”
If I’m not mistaken, Vincent is going at him pretty aggressively. Keith appears surprised by it. I flip the pages of my handout and land on the area map they’re referring to. I see Vincent’s point. The entrance is narrow and fifty feet away from the main tent. I would think most attendees wouldn’t hang around the front because nothing is going on there. They’ll head straight toward the drinks, food, and entertainment.
“You need to ride out there today”—Vincent shakes a piece of paper—“and get me something more realistic than this shit.”
Keith flexes his jaw. “If that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I want. You might as well get on the road while there’s no traffic.”
Keith thrusts forward in his seat. “Right now?”
Vincent does something between a snarl and a smirk. “Not later.”
Keith sighs hard and throws up his hands. “I don’t have a car today.”
“Take a company car, and Cecil and Georgiana will go with you. Janice, I want you to go too.”
Janice points to me. “What about her? She should ride out and check the site.”
“No. Maggie has enough on her plate with tomorrow’s event, and today she needs to have a sit-down with the IK production team.”
I do?
“But that’s me!” Keith complains.
“That’s Laszlo. He’s development,” Vincent says to me specifically.
I’ve been following the discussion as if it’s a verbal tennis match. Janice gives me the evil eye. I’d already laid the foundation for us to never be friends when I snapped at her about Linda.
“It’s not a problem. I can go, and I have a car,” I say. Actually, it would be fun to drive out to the site and check it out beforehand.
“Maggie’s staying here,” he says as if that’s final. “Take a company car, Keith. They come with a driver, for goodness’ sake. What the hell’s the issue?”
Keith’s eyes dart over to my face. “I have a lot of work to do on the setup before tomorrow. I didn’t plan on riding all the way out to Southampton.”
“What about Lacey? She’s your assistant. Maggie’s got the right idea. Start using your assistants to get shit done, not to do your shit. Now go.”
I bite my lower lip to keep from cheesing, but Linda and I smile at each other with our eyes. After Keith and Janice exit, the meeting goes on for another hour and a half.
I find out afterward that Lena only attended because I was new and she wanted to see how well I would perform. According to her, I passed with flying colors.
When I get back to my computer, Vincent has already sent me an email with more information regarding the IK App. The message is signed Vince. Have we known each other long enough to be so informal? I decide to not respond at all. I open the attachment and learn more about this product that’s going to take complete control of my life from now until who knows how long.
It’s quite a remarkable piece of technology. It’s supposed to know how to answer any question. Unlike other apps and websites, it provides the user with only superior information.
For instance, a user can ask, “What’s the best red lipstick on the market?” IK App will give them the top three brands, compare and contrast them, provide detailed product information, reviews, prices, and the best place and way to purchase the one they want, along with a coupon or discount code if they purchase through the app. A user can ask the app which magazine to subscribe to in order to learn more about fireflies, and it will provide the top three options. It’s a know-it-all app, but unlike a human know-it-all, the IK app is supposed to be right.
I’ve been reading so long that it suddenly occurs to me that I’m supposed to meet some guy named Laszlo. My office door is open because everyone does that, and I don’t want to digress from the norm. I look over into Vincent’s office, and a leggy beauty in scarlet skinny pants and a tight black-and-white polka dot sweater is sitting on his desk. I was so engrossed in what I was doing that I didn’t see her go into his office. He’s sitting comfortably in his seat with his hands behind his head, laughing at something she’s saying.
I feel a pinch of something, maybe jealousy, probably relief, as I buzz Linda. I try not to pay attention to them. However, I catch him watching me when Linda walks into my office—or he could’ve been watching Linda’s ass.
“Pull up a chair,” I say. “I want to run some ideas by you, and I need you to play devil’s advocate.” I point at her. “And don’t let me off the hook.”
“Just remember you asked.” She leans in closer. “But first, you really had nothing going on with Vincent before you started working here?”
I frown, taken aback. “Nope. Why?”
“You didn’t notice the weirdness?”
“Do you mean the way he was going at…” Shit, I’ve already forgotten the guy’s name.
“Keith,” Linda says. “Yes, but not only that. He can’t look you in the eyes like he does the rest of us.”
“What?”
“You distract him. Either he’s seen you naked or he wants to see you naked.”
I can’t keep from blurting out a laugh. “No, he’s never seen me naked, and I strongly doubt that he wants to.”
She shakes her head. “You’re a lost cause. He’s been staring at your office all day long.” She twists around to look over her shoulder. “See, there he goes. He likes you.”
I’m speechless. Vincent Adams likes me? If a supermodel, actress, dance chick is Venus, then I’m the bayou. There’s no comparing us. Linda’s wrong about this.
I shrug, ready to move on. “Whatever. So I was thinking about the eighteen to thirty-five demographic since they’re the ones who’re always fiddling with their phones.”
“‘They’? Aren’t you part of that group?”
I snicker. “Yes, but I’m wearing the white coat.”
“Me too, I guess. Since I’m your lab assistant.”
We laugh.
“I logged onto Venue Tracker and made a list of the most popular events amongst that, or our, age bracket.” I wink at her. “There’s a huge winter sports competition in Aspen called End of March Powder. It’s covered by all the pertinent media outlets. If the newsmakers they watch and believe show them that the IK App is hot, then they’ll have to believe it, being impressionable and all.”
Linda remains stern. “Who’s your point of contact for the event?”
“I’ve written down some names. I’m going to run them by a few people I know and see if I can get an introduction.”
Linda looks impressed. “You have that kind of inner circle?”
I wink at her. I’m not divulging that I have a cousin who knows everybody who’s anybody on planet Earth.
“And when is the event?” she asks.
“In two weeks.”
“Cutting it close.”
“I figured we’d just get in and find our moments.”
She ponders that while nodding. “I like your Rambo style. It won’t cost a lot of money either. Vincent’s always mindful of the budget.”
“By the way, what was with Janice?” I ask.
“Oh, she’s a bitch. That’s what’s with her. She also has a crush on Vincent. He might have f*cked her once or twice. That’s what I heard.”
“He does that? Fraternize?”
“Hell, I’d fraternize with him if he wants. Would you ever kiss and tell if he wanted to f*ck you?”
“Absolutely!”
I think my answer caught her by surprise because she laughs and asks, “Where are you from, Maggie?”
“I mostly grew up here.”
“Did you go to one of those Baptist schools? You sure as hell aren’t a Catholic schoolgirl. If you were, you would’ve already picked up on the signals Vincent’s been throwing your way and banged him over the toilet.”
I let out an unrestrained laugh. Linda has a mouth like Monroe. Maybe that’s why I like her so much. “That’s nasty!”
“You mean naughty.”
We laugh again.
“Excuse me.”
Linda and I pipe down and turn quickly to see Vincent standing in the doorway.
“Do you have a ride to the polo field tomorrow?” he asks. At first he looks at me, but then he looks at Linda and that’s where his eyes stay.
Linda grins impishly. I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s already pointed out that the man who stares everyone in the eyes can’t look in mine for more than five seconds, at least not from a close distance.
“Well, I figured I’d ride out with Maggie,” she says, thumbing in my direction.
“Oh, you have a car, that’s right,” he says.
“Vincent, it’s getting late!” the girl in the polka dot sweater calls. She’s in front of his office, watching him.
He pastes his eyes on my face. “Good night.”
Those two words unexpectedly make me shiver. I can feel his torment. “Good night,” I barely say.
He walks between the lines of cubicles separating our offices. The model-type woman takes his arm, and they walk to the elevator together.
I watch them. “See, he’s not into me.”
Linda snorts and nudges her chest. “He didn’t say good night to me like that.” She pauses. “Hell, he didn’t say good night to me at all!”
We laugh again. He turns back to glance into my office one last time before he and the woman disappear behind the elevator doors.