“I have his publicist’s card in my wallet from that photo shoot.” I pulled it out. His office was right around the corner.
Tomás grabbed it from me. “Let’s go in person!”
“But the floor isn’t covered!”
“Love trumps a lady needing a different size.” He grabbed my hand.
“You should stay. We could get fired!” I protested.
“No way!” he protested louder. “I’m your ride-or-die chick!”
I laughed the whole way there.
CHAPTER 27
For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow
By Arthur Winters, Attorney-at-Law
It turns out that it took all of two interviews for Felicia to get another job, and so it was that in the blink of an eye I was sitting at my desk trying to compose a toast in her honor. Everything was set for the party. I did it all myself and I really went all out, though I had to be careful. There are company rules and budgets for such things, and I didn’t want anyone to catch on to our relationship. I filled the room with celebration cakes from Payard and bottles of Veuve Clicquot and bought her a beautiful bouquet of flowers from her favorite florist. Writing the toast turned out to be the most difficult task. I didn’t know what to say. Good luck, thank you, goodbye. Every word I chose but the last seemed trite. It bothered me that after all this time together at work my words would seem generic. Not to the room, but to Felicia. Time was up, and I shoved my note card in my breast pocket and headed to the party.
Even with the standard two weeks’ notice, I was completely unprepared for Felicia’s departure. Deep down I was happy for her and glad that our relationship would soon be out in the open, but my misery at the thought of not seeing her all day masked it. It seems her competence and loyalty had landed her a job at one of the most prestigious law firms in the city. The office was down on Wall Street, far away from midtown, and every time I thought of the distance between the two, a lump formed in my throat. I really had to pull myself together.
I entered the room and downed my first glass of champagne to calm my nerves. Everyone was chatting and milling about, and the time went quickly. Before long the type-A people that made up our firm wanted to get back to work. They encouraged me to make my toast.
I began with the words on my note card.
“I want to say a few words on behalf of everyone at Canner, Silfen, Sheanshang, and Winters, to express our appreciation for Felicia’s unmatched term of dedicated service. Felicia has spent eighteen years with us, and in that time she has served as an example of excellence to everyone around her, foremost myself.”
So far I was keeping my composure. But as I paused to allow the new associates their obligatory laugh, it gave me time to catch Felicia’s eye, and I started to lose it. I fumbled with my card and begged myself to get it together as I continued with the words I had written.
“Felicia, for eighteen years I have walked off the elevator and been greeted by your smile.” My voice cracked and I felt moisture building up in my eyes. “I…I can’t imagine not seeing…that smile every day…” I squeezed my eyes tight, but it was too late; a tear had escaped. One sizable lone tear. The sight of it set off murmurs across the room, and nearly every woman took my cue and welled up too. At this point they were probably sad to see Felicia go and happy that a boss could cry over his assistant’s departure. I found Felicia’s eyes again and it was over. The tears were pouring down her face. I couldn’t bear it, any of it. I was sixty years old. I had lost the first love of my life already; I wasn’t about to waste any more time. I tossed my note card over my shoulder and got down on one knee.
“Felicia, I refuse to spend even one more day apart from you. If you are no longer going to work for me, would you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Her reply nearly bowled me over as everyone shouted and cheered.
“Yes. Yes!” she cried.
Suddenly I became very conscious of the fact that I had just cried and proposed in front of a roomful of my colleagues. I followed with a sheepish joke: “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”
Everyone laughed and toasted our long, happy life together. My partners had the company limo brought around and we were escorted out, along with the extra bottles of champagne, by nearly everyone in the firm.
We sank into our seats and caught our breath.
“Where to, Mr. Winters?”
I had no idea. “Let me ask my fiancée.” It felt so good to say it out loud—my fiancée, soon to be my wife.
Felicia seemed to enjoy it as well. She laughed and said, “We never did walk across the Brooklyn Bridge!”
CHAPTER 28
Tell Hank They Beat It Out of Me
By Albert, Jeremy’s Publicist