by Rachel Hauck
“And bury my head in the sand?”
“Sure, why not. By the way, I blocked out your Monday nights. Every week until you tell me otherwise. And I created the contact list and food schedule you wanted. And I’ve ordered the appetizers for the four o’clock sit-down with the new hires.”
“You’re the best.”
“Can I have a raise?”
“No.”
“It was worth a shot.” Matt grinned in a way that made her think he was flirting. More likely he’d grown comfortable with her. While charming, Matt was all business and showed no interest whatsoever in her celebrity life. Which was exactly why she hired him.
Blaire Boreland, CCW’s aggressive, no-nonsense CEO, had wanted Coral to hire this silly girl from Smith who giggled every time Coral spoke to her. Coral could just see in her eyes, and in her demeanor, she was dying to ask about Prince Augustus.
When Matt had gone, Coral reviewed the profiles on the new hires. But it only tightened her anxiety. New people meant more expenses.
Like her grandmother and her grandmother’s mother, she met with new employees within the first month to share with them the history, vision, and culture of the company. Then over the next six months she took each one to coffee and lunch.
Her grandmother didn’t want to run a company with strangers and neither did she.
After familiarizing herself with the latest CCW family members, Coral reached for the top magazine and flipped through, looking for company ads. She found one for the charcoal mask and another for their new rejuvenation cream.
Nothing about Pink Coral. And where were the teen magazines?
A message popped up on her screen. The names and numbers of everyone in the society. And the food schedule.
Coral clicked on the group contact, a smile forming in some cavernous place in her soul.
Thank you.
She didn’t know until last night she needed this oddball adventure. Until she locked eyes with Lexa and felt she’d found a friend. Until Chuck, who was like the Rock of Gibraltar with a John Wayne swagger, took command of the food. Until Jett asked about her Panicked Princess reputation, then politely backed off.
And dear Ed. Lonely came to mind, along with his face.
The same word described her. For whatever reason, by whatever force—and she had her suspicions—the five of them were pulled together for this story society, and she was grateful.
The group pulled her back into the land of the living. She’d been hiding from the press for so long, from her family and friends, she’d forgotten what it felt like to be herself, to let go, laugh, look someone in the eye.
Ed’s gruff voice rambled through her. “I need help writing my memoir.” She laughed to herself. He looked so comical, so serious and desperate.
Opening a new email, she sent the contact list and food schedule to Jett, Lexa, Chuck, and Ed.
Then she returned to the stack of magazines. She wasn’t sure Monday night would be a place to sound out her company’s problems, but it would be a place to forget. To focus on someone else for a few hours.
She finished her soda and tossed the magazines one by one into the trash. Not one advertised Pink Coral.
Well, really, this was all her fault. She let herself get distracted with a gorgeous boy, and look . . . Everything was falling apart.
“Coral.” Dak Denton, her CFO, leaned into her office, laptop under his arm. “We’re holding an emergency meeting in the executive conference room.”
She sat forward. “Who is we?”
“Blaire, Drew, Sal, me. We’ve been going over the August report and, Coral, we can’t afford another quarter of loss.”
“I’m well aware of what we can afford.”
Dak crossed the wide, airy office space to her desk. “You know what bothers me? How calm you seem about all this. Is there something you want to tell me, Coral? Tell all of us?”
She rose up, shoulders back, her pulse rising. “Just exactly what are you implying? I left my family company in your care while I was in Lauchtenland with Gus. I come home to find out we’re bleeding money.” She crossed her arms to steady her demeanor.
“We’ve known each other for a few years, Coral, so I’ll just ask. Are you tanking the company on purpose? So you can take the money and run, so to speak?” Dak mirrored her stance. “Running seems to be your thing lately.”
The power of his accusation forced her to step back. “I’ll pretend you didn’t ask that, Dak.”
“Too bad, because I think we need an answer.”
“Then brace yourself, because I was going to demand an accounting from you and Blaire.”
“It’s your company.” Dak turned on his heel. “See you in the executive conference room. But be prepared.” He paused at the doorway. “Pink Coral is tanking us. It’s expensive to make and market. Sales are abysmal. We told you not to launch it. Told you it wasn’t our brand. Not our demographic. But you insisted. Now we’re paying the price.”
“Then we’re doing something very wrong. Preteen lip gloss is the easiest product in the world to make. Easiest way to break in to the market. And ours, by the way, has been three years in the making. It’s why I hired Blaire.” Coral unplugged her laptop, tucked it under her arm, and charged toward Dak and out the door. “If you say it’s so expensive to make and market, show me.”
If CCW couldn’t make money in the gold-mine preteen-girl market—which pulled down some ten million a month in US sales alone—then they might as well close their doors.
When she arrived in the conference room, Blaire sat with Drew, director of marketing, and Sal, VP of sales.
Coral marched to the head of the table and addressed her CEO. “Is it true? Pink Coral is the problem?”
With a sigh, Blaire stood, the color on her high cheeks resonating with her fitted, dusty-rose suit.
“I’m afraid so, Coral.”
“How?” Coral deflated and sank into the chair behind her. “Drew, are we actually advertising? I can’t find an ad anywhere.”
“Coral, listen to me,” Blaire said. “The product isn’t catching on. You hired me for my expertise, so listen to me.” True. Blaire brought Glitter Girl from the bottom of the beauty pile and turned it into a multimillion-dollar company with nothing more than glam products—lip and cheek colors, eye shadow, and mascara. “Pink Coral is expensive to produce and—”
“It’s lip gloss, Blaire. Oils with color and flavor poured into little tiny bottles.”
“Yes, but the most expensive oils, pomegranate and aloe leaf oils, all organically sourced. Don’t get me started on the pigments and custom bottles.”
“We ran the numbers. We should be killing it.” She looked at Sal. “Did you allocate the space at the drug and department stores?” They’d had special racks and signs designed to replace the product they were phasing out.
“We followed the plan, Coral. But some stores aren’t phasing out the compact powder yet. We’re working on it.”
“The marketing has been expensive.” Drew turned his laptop toward her and pointed to the spreadsheet on the screen. “We’re spending a lot of time developing a campaign unique from our competitors.”
“How hard is it? Preteen girls.” She sounded like a broken record. “Show a group of girls at a slumber party with shiny lips and we’re in.”
He scowled. “It’s not that simple.”
She pulled her chair forward. “Then enlighten me. Tell me how complicated it is to advertise the product I spent three years developing.”
“Coral,” Blaire said, her soft voice one of a friend. “I’m so sorry. I know this was your baby, but I’m not sure it’s working. It’s not really our brand.”
She blinked back a surge of tears. Her first product launch after taking over was failing. Worse, her team wasn’t with her.
“But I think we can salvage it,” Sal said. “Let’s give it time.”
“I’m not sure we have time, Sal.” Coral leaned forward, face in her hands.
This was her fault. Love, then heartbreak, distracted her from her priorities. Then she launched the product when she was in a dark, wounded place.
She needed to find her story. She wasn’t the same woman who met and fell in love with a prince. The journey of leaving him had changed her.
And she was still exploring that road. She lifted her head to the tight, concerned expressions of her executive team.
“All right, let’s get to work. Figure this out.”
One thing for sure: she wouldn’t find her way by quitting and giving up.
Chapter 8
Lexa
Another Friday night. Same routine. But she didn’t mind. Really.
Schlepping in her comfy sweats past the open door of her apartment, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her face smothered in a CCW charcoal mask, Lexa settled in her chair and bit into a stacked, juicy ZB Burger.
She’d brought one home from the test kitchen along with truffle fries. So good.
With an exhale, she ate and willed the strain of the week to slip away.
She was glad to see the back of it, as well as Zane. He’d been a grouch, anxious, nervous, asking her a bazillion questions about the Gottlieb Gala.
It wasn’t like him.
Reaching for her phone, she opened Skipper’s text from last week for a laugh. She could see her sister’s wide, blue-eyed expression with each line.
Jett! You saw Jett!!!! Did you sock him in the gut? I’d have kicked him in the knee, then the other knee!
Coral Winthrop? The Panicked Princess. Forget CCW. You met an almost-princess. OMG!!!!! What’s she like? Tell me everything, I mean everything.
By the way, rocket launch next week. I’m in the command center! I’m trying to be cool but I want to jump up and down. I saw the room where the women from Hidden Figures worked. I was so grateful they paved a path for me.
Jett, really?! I’m still wrapping my brain around it. What the heck?
What’s a story society?
I wish you were going to Zambia with me. Forget Zaney Days. Are you telling me Zane can’t run it by himself? Or the team? I’m sure you have it all organized. All they have to do is follow your checklist.
You said Jett looked good. What does THAT mean? Do you still have the hots for him?
Lexa snickered as she continued to scroll through. Reading this, no one would know Skipper was a math genius. Graduated summa cum laude from Florida Tech with no fewer than ten engineering and tech companies offering her high five-figure salaries and signing bonuses.
She set her phone on silent, tossed it to the desk, then finished her burger with another rerun of Frasier.
Once again, she’d failed to approach Zane about the CEO job. But she resolved to next week. After tonight’s gala, after Sabrina returned to Hollywood. No more messing around.
If Skipper could help launch a rocket into space, then Lexa could ask her boss for the promotion she deserved.
Just this week she lunched with a visiting board member, met with the quarterly auditors, and reworked the employee handbook with Lois, the human resources manager.
She picked up Zane’s tux from the cleaners, printed his speech on notecards, tested the final mini burgers recipe her boss was surprising the gala guests with, ordered flowers for Sabrina’s room, and purchased a diamond bracelet for the starlet at Zane’s request.
The busywork exhausted her but also kept her thoughts from Jett and Monday night. She’d decided to go back, then questioned her sanity. Why would she want to spend any amount of time with her ex-husband?
He’d talked to her more the last two Monday nights than he did the last three months of their marriage.
She was on the fence all week about returning until Coral texted her this morning. The Coral Winthrop.
I could handle Jett and the old man by myself but throw in the big guy and I’m doomed. Say you’re coming Monday.
Lexa caved. The popular girl liked her.
See you then.
Then a beauty box arrived from CCW this afternoon. Lexa accused her of bribery.
Yes, yes, I am. Making sure you don’t change your mind. Aren’t you curious as to what brought us together?
Actually, I am.
She’d just finished her burger when she heard sounds of Abby in the hall. She expected to see her pretty face peer around the door. Who would she be tonight? Audrey Hepburn for a fifties party?
If Abby invited her, Lexa determined she’d wash the mud off her face and join the fun. Why not?
But the sound passed without pause at her place. She munched on the last of her fries, then carried the trash to the kitchen.
“Lex?”
She came around the kitchen doorway to see Zane rushing into the living room dressed in his custom Armani tux and Bruno Magli shoes, his hair trimmed and styled, his green eyes wild with panic.
“What are you doing here?” She tugged the hem of her short T-shirt over the low-riding waist of her sweats. “You’re supposed to be at the Gottlieb Gala.”
“I’ve been blowing up your phone. Why haven’t you answered?” A frown crushed his clean-shaven, freshly exfoliated face as he barged past her and retrieved her phone from the desk. “Look, missed call, missed call. Text after text.”
“I turn it off while I’m eating.” Lexa slammed the front door closed and snatched the device from his hand. “What’s going on?”
“Sabrina is not at her hotel nor is she answering her phone.” Zane paced, pointing to Lexa’s device. “Did she call you?”
“What do you mean she’s not at her hotel?” She scanned her phone calls and texts. All from Zane. “There’s nothing from her. Zane, she’s at her hotel. I called and checked this afternoon.”
“Well she’s not there now. I went to meet her and she never answered her door. When I asked the front desk if June Cleaver had checked in she said no.” Zane dropped to the red chair and bounced up again. “June Cleaver is right, isn’t it? Her alias?”
“I don’t know of another one.” Though how many people were named June Cleaver? The name alone screamed “celebrity alias.”
Lexa called the starlet’s number. After several rings, voice mail came on. So she tried Sabrina’s manager, who was also not picking up.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Zane. She’ll show up. Go to the gala. You don’t want to be too late. I’ll keep trying Sabrina. She’s probably already at the Starlight Room causing a stir.”
“We were supposed to go in together, make an entrance.” He spread his arms wide as if to demonstrate. “Her idea, not mine.”
“Then go to the Waldorf. Go to her room.”
“I’m telling you, she’s not there.” He brushed past her and opened her wardrobe. “Are your gowns in here?”
“Gowns? Zane, what are you doing?”
He riffled through her clothes. Lexa slammed the opened door against his hand. He jerked back, bumping into the wall.
“If you think I’m walking into that gala alone, you’ve got another thing coming.” Zane yanked out her only gown. Blue silk. Years old. The one she wore for a fancy benefit at the college right after Jett joined the faculty. “Wash that stuff off your face. What is it anyway?”
“Charcoal mask.” She returned the gown to the wardrobe. “I’m not going anywhere. Sabrina will show up.”
“A charcoal mask? Are you Cinderella? And you are going with me to the ball.”
“What are you? The wicked stepmother?” She pushed him toward the exit. “See you. Your princess will arrive. And your public awaits.”
“How do you figure I’m the wicked stepmother? I’m the handsome prince.”
“Fine, you’re the handsome prince. Bye. Go find your Cinderella.”
“She stood me up.” He rolled away from the door and back into the center of the room. “I knew she would. I knew it.”
“She did not stand you up. You just saw her in LA two weeks ago.”
“I’m a geeky farm boy from Nebraska.
What would a woman like Sabrina want with me?”
“I’ve been asking myself that for months now.”
He spun around. “Really?”
“No, Zane, I’m teasing. You’re a great catch. Sweet, successful, decent looking.” She grabbed him by the shoulders. “Get ahold of yourself. You’re not a geeky high school kid anymore. Women find you powerful and attractive. If you walk in the gala alone tonight every single woman there will be at your side in five seconds flat.”
“What will it take?” He yanked his money clip from his inside jacket pocket. “I’ve got five hundred here, but I can stop at an ATM on the way. How about a thousand bucks?”
“You want to buy me?” She shoved away his money hand. “I don’t even want to think of the implications.”
“Buy you? No. Hire you. For the evening. As my employee. Nothing underhanded or weird.” He made a face. “Think of it as a bonus. Please come with me.”
“Zane, this is ridiculous. I’m not—” Wait, Lexa, girl, hold up. He’s in a bind. At your mercy. “Well, there is one thing I want. I’ll go if you meet my condition.”
“Help you chisel that stuff off your face?” He motioned with his hand toward her hair. “Can you do anything with that mess?”
“Make me CEO of ZB Enterprises.”
He stepped back with a long, curious expression. “Just like that? Right now?”
“Just like that.”
Over the years, she’d learned to manage her feelings about Zane’s subtle ways of dismissing her. It used to drive Jett nuts.
“Quit,” he’d say. “Find someone who values and appreciates you.”
But she loved ZB. She couldn’t help it. She was loyal and devoted to her job. And when her life was falling apart, ZB was her sanctuary.
“All right. CEO, huh? I can put your name in the hopper.”
“I’ve already applied, and as far as I know, I’m the only one. You didn’t make the opening public yet, did you?”
“I’ll get around to it.” Zane turned his back and faced the window. “If I hire you, I’d first have to put you through the entire hiring process. You should know how it works. You wrote the book.”