Out of Practice

by Carsen Taite

  “Maybe. Doesn’t matter. Maybe you’ll meet someone at the wedding. Weddings are perfect for finding soul mates. The ceremony gets everyone all dreamy-eyed and looking for romance. Plus, there’s cake. Can’t really beat that for a perfect atmosphere. Didn’t you write an article about that?”

  “I did indeed. A woman even replied that she started crashing weddings in an attempt to find the love of her life, but I’m not entirely sure the idea came from me. It’s a pretty well recognized trope, but it doesn’t apply in this case since I’ll be way too busy at your wedding making sure you have everything you need for your…” Roxanne paused as her tongue tripped over the word “special,” and she quickly adjusted. “For you to have a seamless day.” Okay, so maybe “special day” was overused, but that didn’t mean Abby had to mock her for it. Weddings were special days and there was absolutely no reason to apologize for that fact. When she saw Abby, she’d tell her that to her face. A quick look at her watch warned her that would be soon. “Val, I’ve got to go.”

  “But Mom’s fixing lunch.”

  “As tempting as it is to eat whatever giant sandwich she’s whipping up, I’m going to pass. You know how they say the camera adds ten pounds? Well, double that. Besides, I can’t bear to hear more about how unlucky I am in love.” This was the perfect time to tell Val she was on her way to meet up with Abby, but instead she held back, unsure why. “Give me a shout if you run into trouble. Love you.” She called out the last two words as she was on her way out the door, bypassing their usual hug for a quick getaway.

  As she drove away from her sister’s house, she focused on telling herself that her rush had more to do with avoiding her mother than eagerness to get to the Barclays’ store where Abby was waiting.

  * * *

  Abby paced the lobby of Barclay’s flagship store wondering if Roxanne was standing her up. Being casual about appointments had been the custom in Puerto Vallarta, but she’d expected that when Roxanne was back in the real world, she’d be back to a routine that involved keeping appointments and being punctual. Abby knew she was being an ass, but she had every right since, unlike PV, this wasn’t a vacation—it was her client’s livelihood.

  A few minutes later, she nearly jumped at the sound of a rap on the glass door and turned to see Roxanne standing on the sidewalk outside. Abby took a moment to assess the woman leading the charge against her client. Dressed in well-worn jeans, an Austin City Limits T-shirt, and dark Ray-Bans, Roxanne looked more like one of the hipsters who hung out on South Congress than a social media bully. All Abby had to do was ignore how hot she was, and she could crush her campaign against Barclay’s like a bug. She breathed deep and opened the door. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.” Roxanne touched the door as she walked in, grazing Abby’s fingers. “I appreciate you meeting with me.”

  Abby focused on not reacting to the tingle that swept up her arm at Roxanne’s touch. “And I appreciate you not showing up with cameras and a bevy of brides-to-be.”

  “Bevy?” Roxanne grinned. “How long did it take you to come up with that line because it sounds like you practiced it.”

  Abby couldn’t help but return the grin. “Maybe I’m just going for your level of alliteration, Ms. BBF. It seems to work for you.”

  “True. Although I never expected it to work this well.”

  Abby wanted to ask her what she meant, but it felt awkward to get into a big discussion standing in the lobby of the store. “How about I show you around and then we can talk?”

  “Sounds great. You lead, I’ll follow.”

  Abby heard a suggestive tone but chose not to respond in kind. This was a professional meeting, an opportunity for her to sway an influencer to have sympathy for her client. If she was successful, then maybe it would take some of the heat off of the business long enough for Tommy to either work something out with the twins or to close the deal with the investor who was funding his online business. If she wasn’t, then Tommy and the twins would probably spend a lot of money in court battles, which would generate fees for her firm, but might cause them to lose future business from Tommy down the road. He wouldn’t be hiring lawyers for his new business if he lost it all on this litigation. The key for today was focus. If she let her libido take over, she’d lose her edge.

  “I don’t know how much you know about Barclay’s history, but this is the flagship store and it was opened by Alice and Mike Barclay when Tommy, their oldest son, was in first grade. The entire family worked in the store. The kids put in hours before and after school, helping with inventory and waiting on customers. Alice and Mike put their hearts and souls into making the experience of selecting and purchasing bridal gowns an intimate and custom affair for every bride-to-be who walked through their doors.

  “About five years ago, they were approached by investors who had noticed the success and wanted to start a chain of stores to go national. The Barclays were reluctant at first. Barclay’s Bridal had always been grounded in providing a personal experience, and Alice and Mike weren’t certain they could maintain the same level of service on a large scale, but after a ton of research and assurances from the investors that they would not interfere with the basic business model, they agreed to the financing as long as the company remained privately owned.”

  “Interesting,” Roxanne said. “Of course, I knew this Barclay’s has been around forever, but I didn’t know how they got into the national market.”

  “Are we off the record?” Abby asked. “For real.”

  Roxanne crossed her heart. “Promise.”

  “It was a mistake.”

  “Really? They opened a ton of stores. I figured they were doing great.”

  “It’s almost impossible to replicate personal service like the kind they provided their customers on such a large scale. They were successful at keeping the same attention to detail when they expanded within Texas, but it just didn’t translate nationwide. Too many different markets with different expectations, and they ran into issues where they were competing with stores who offered the same kind of personal experience they’d created here, but now they were the big box store coming in to dull the experience. Customers who weren’t familiar with the brand automatically assumed they couldn’t or wouldn’t offer the same personal touches, and their attempts to show them otherwise were viewed as pushy and overbearing.”

  “Sounds like they had a messaging problem.”

  “Definitely. And the investors’ solution was to push them to purchase expensive ad buys, when what they should’ve done was utilize as many free and low-cost alternatives like social media and influencers, like you, as they could reach.”

  “I remember last year Barclay’s had a huge spread in Best Day Ever,” Roxanne said. “That must’ve cost a fortune.”

  Abby nodded. “It’s hard to know how to stop the bleeding. This place was Alice and Mike’s dream, and when they died, it was their legacy. I think the twins would’ve sold on the spot, but Tommy was raised right here in this building. He used to do his homework in the office in the back and, as a teenager, he made deliveries and helped with the books. He’s built his entire adult life around the wedding industry, and if you ruin him in the court of public opinion, you’ll be thwarting not only his dreams, but his parents’ legacy.”

  “No pressure there.” Roxanne shook her head. “You make it sound like it’s my fault your clients decided to shut their doors and deny these women who paid for the dresses they counted on. What about their hopes and dreams?”

  “Tommy is doing everything he can to make good on their agreements, but if all this publicity keeps ramping up, then his only option is to walk away. Nobody gets their dresses, nobody gets their money back, nobody’s dreams come true. Is that what you want?”

  “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  Abby prayed Roxanne was asking because she really wanted to help, and she adopted her most earnest and imploring tone. “I want you to drop this story. If the BBF moves on to some other t
opic, everyone else will too, including the women who are lining up to protest. Give me some cover, and I’ll do my best to work things out so that we find a compromise that suits everyone.”

  Roxanne bit her bottom lip, a sign Abby recognized as her thinking face. When had she started to pick up on such subtle clues, and what did that mean? She pushed the thought away. It didn’t mean anything other than they’d spent time together and it was only natural to start to notice things about each other. Like the way Roxanne’s new hairstyle accentuated her eyes. And how her jeans hugged her hips in the sexiest way possible, which made Abby want to tug her right out of them, and…

  “Okay.”

  “What?” Abby wasn’t sure she’d heard.

  “Okay. I’ll give you some cover, but I can’t promise I’ll hold off for long.”

  Relief swept through Abby. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.” Abby took Roxanne’s hands in her own. “How about dinner on me? You pick the place this time.”

  Roxanne eased out of her grip and stepped backward, her expression unreadable. “Uh, that’s okay. I’m really swamped right now. Let’s talk later.” She started walking toward the door. “Thanks for the behind the scenes.”

  Abby watched her go, barely resisting the urge to follow. What just happened? It was like she’d made a connection, managed to get Roxanne to see things her way, but then Roxanne took off like she couldn’t wait to get away from her. She should be happy, she’d gotten what she wanted out of this meeting, but all she felt was empty.

  Chapter Twelve

  Roxanne rushed into the lobby of Best Day Ever, late for her meeting with Stuart to go over notes for the pilot. She was bent on bypassing Sylvia, the steely receptionist, but she was a mere two steps from the elevator when Sylvia called her name. She watched the elevator doors close and turned back to the desk where Sylvia was waving a hand, urging her to come back.

  “I’m late for a meeting with Stuart. Do I need a hall pass to ride the elevator now?”

  Sylvia cocked her head. “Hall pass?”

  Roxanne shook her head, not remotely interested in explaining the reference. “Never mind. What do you need?”

  Sylvia shoved a vase of flowers across the desk. “These came for you.”

  The arrangement, centered around a bird-of-paradise, was gorgeous, simple and elegant, and Roxanne’s first thought was that Stuart had sent them as a congratulations on the upcoming launch of the show. She took the vase and wandered over to one of the tables scattered throughout the lobby, set it down, and tore open the envelope.

  Thanks for the meeting. The dinner invite is open. Call me whenever.

  She stared at the arrangement, and it took her back to Azure where there had been a bird-of-paradise on Abby’s deck that they’d both admired. She reread the card and recognized Abby’s handwriting from the many times she’d scrawled it on checks for incidentals at Azure, which meant Abby had taken the time to select the flowers herself, a thoughtful touch that spoke volumes. Roxanne tapped the card against her hand while she processed her mixed reaction.

  Since she’d scrambled out of Barclay’s earlier, she’d been second-guessing her decision to turn down Abby’s dinner invitation, but she couldn’t help but think Abby had only made the gesture as payment for her agreement to lay off the whole give the brides their dresses chant for a bit. And maybe she shouldn’t have agreed to lay off the story since her objectivity was clearly in question.

  She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up to see one of the juice girls from her last meeting. Myra or Mira—something like that. “Hey, we’re waiting for you upstairs. Are you coming?”

  “Yes, sorry.” She stood and contemplated what to do with the vase of flowers. It looked nice on the table where it was, and for a moment, she considered leaving it there since it would be easier than explaining why she was toting around a big bouquet. But as she started to turn away, she was drawn back to the flowers—a sweet, thoughtful gesture on Abby’s part. Roxanne summoned her inner diva and shoved the vase toward juice girl. “Please find a place for these until the meeting is over. I can find my way upstairs on my own. Thanks.”

  Stuart gave her a slow clap as she walked into the room, and she could feel the burn of a blush start to creep across her face. “I guess you were happy with the footage so far,” she said as she took her seat across from Stuart and Jake.

  “Beyond happy. It’s a fantastic start. The chemistry between you and angry lawyer lady was off the charts, and I can’t wait for you to stoke some more of that for the camera.”

  “About that.” Roxanne cleared her throat to give her time to think. She should’ve anticipated his reaction and prepared a response, but she hadn’t so it was time to improvise. “I think we should broaden the story and take a look at some other stories of wedding-related business closings across the industry and how that impacts a bride’s ability to plan. Talk about the importance of having contingencies in place for every situation.”

  Stuart closed his eyes. “Snoozefest,” he uttered between snoring sounds.

  Roxanne smiled to cover a strong desire to smack him. “I promise we’ll make it interesting. I have some ideas.”

  Stuart exchanged a look with Jake who barely hid a slight eye roll. “I’m sure you do,” Stuart said. “But so do we. Trust me, TV is not the same as print. You can take your time building a story on your blog, but you’ll have one hour to sell this story, this entire show.” He started snapping his fingers. “Things are happening fast and now. We have to plunge right in and riff off what works. And when something is working, we capitalize on it, we don’t back away. You feel me?”

  She did and she didn’t like where it was going. “Yes. I, uh, feel you. But the blog has never been about me. I’m the Bride’s Best friend. You know, the offstage helper who makes sure things go smoothly, but never steals the spotlight from the star of the show—the Bride. If you start to make the story about me, it changes everything.”

  “Welcome to showbiz. You are the star. Our test group ratings for the segment are well beyond expectations, and their comments say they want to see more of you clashing with what’s her name, so we’re sticking with that.”

  “Abby,” Roxanne muttered under her breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” No sense giving him fuel for the fire. “Tell you what. I’ll write up the next segment with a small piece to follow up on the dressless brides, but then we pivot to my idea about contingency planning. If you hate it, we’ll regroup. I’ll get you the script tomorrow.” She flashed him a big smile. “I promise I know how to get my readers to transition into viewers. You can trust the bride’s best friend—she’ll never let you down.” She nearly gagged at the sickly sweet tone, but the satisfied look on Stuart’s face told her it was working.

  “Fine. We’ll meet to go through it tomorrow. If anyone even looks like they’re dozing during the read, we’re back to my plan.”

  “Deal. Anything else?”

  “Yes. I’ve booked you on the morning show circuit for later in the week.” He pointed over her shoulder, where juice girl suddenly appeared as if she’d teleported from the lobby. “Mira will get you all the details. And, Mira, she’s going to need more clothes and shoes. Lots of shoes. Nothing sensible, no matter what she says.” Stuart turned back to Roxanne. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you wobbling in those Jimmy Choos. Practice at home if you want, but brides want their best friend to have impeccable fashion sense. Do you feel me?”

  She suppressed a groan both for her feet and his continued lame attempts to sound hip. “Oh, I feel you all right.”

  “Great.” Stuart started toward the door. “I’m out of here. I’ve got a photo shoot with the star of that new prime time talent show, and believe it or not, she’s as difficult to manage as they say.” He placed a finger over his lips. “Shh, don’t tell anyone I said that.”

  He was gone before she could reply, but she doubted he cared what she had to say, which was turning into a t
heme here. Oh well, she hadn’t expected her rise to stardom to be easy, but she’d had enough for today. She stood to leave, but Mira tapped her on the arm.

  “Ready to go to the fashion closet?”

  She should be. Who wouldn’t want to explore all the runway fashion money couldn’t buy? But she didn’t want to do it with Stuart’s lackey in tow. “I’d love to, but I have an appointment across town. How about tomorrow?”

  “I guess that would be okay.”

  “Hey, Mira, you get to decide what’s okay. Stuart put you in charge of my new look, right?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Right. Tomorrow it is.”

  “Perfect.” She walked to the door, turning back right before she left the room. “Oh, and, Mira?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m bringing my sister, Val, along to help with my wardrobe. You’ll get her a visitor’s pass, right?” She followed her question, not really a question, with a strong stare while she nodded her head. One, two, three seconds passed, and then Mira started nodding too.

  “Of course. Leave her name with Sylvia.”

  Roxanne grinned as she waited for the elevator. She might be a small star, but apparently, small stars were bright enough to get benefits, and she may as well make the most of it.

  * * *

  Abby looked up at the knock on her office door to find Graham standing ramrod straight at attention. “At ease, Graham. What’s up?”

  “There’s a woman on the phone. She asked to speak to you, but I told her you were not to be disturbed.”

  “Yet here you are disturbing me.”

  “I’m sorry, but she was cryptic, and I thought it might be best to consult with you before dismissing her outright.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She wouldn’t give her name, but she said to tell you thanks for the flowers. And then something about tiny umbrellas. I believe it might have been code.”