by A. Anders
“Oh. Okay,” she said trying to gather herself. “Then, maybe you should think about that person more. Don’t you have an entire line to create?”
“I do. But why are you being so pushy? Creating a design is not like pouring a beer. You don’t just go and create a dress, or anything else for that matter. You have to wait and allow the design to come to you.”
“Sit and wait? Is that the best you got?” Cara asked genuinely not understanding his thinking.
“Do you think you have a better idea than the one that creative people have been using for thousands of years, Mrs. I-Sell-Beer-For-A-Living?”
Cara felt a little offended. “Actually, yes. Although it might not be designing a dress, beer can be creative too. We do need to come up with new flavors, you know. And when we do, we don’t just stand around waiting for inspiration to hit. We get in the flavor room and start putting together samples. Eventually, we hit upon something we like and boom, we have our new beer.”
“So, what are you suggesting? That we go out and get drunk?”
Cara knew that Mars was being facetious but it didn’t matter. “No. And I can’t believe I just said that, but no. I am suggesting that you pick up some cloth and start stitching together some samples. Most of it will be crap, but you’ll probably end up with a piece that could inspire the rest.”
Mars looked at Cara judging her. “You know, that’s not the first time someone has come up with that idea. I just don’t use that technique because my way has usually worked.”
“Is it working now?”
Mars looked away trying to hide his embarrassment. “No, it has not.”
“Then it’s time to try something different, right?”
Mars looked back at Cara. He weighed fighting her versus acknowledging that she did have a point. Working through a creative block was always what creative people suggested. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it. Perhaps he had been so locked in on his way of doing things that he couldn’t see beyond it. Maybe the creative funk that he was in was getting to him, he considered.
“Yeah. I’ll try that. But not because you suggested it. This is a technique that my design professor had often recommended back in design school.”
“Look, you don’t have to give me credit. I’m just here to help you get your ass in gear,” she said bristly.
“You’re here to help me get my ass in gear? You’re my assistant,” Mars clarified.
After he said it, Cara remembered that she wasn’t supposed to be his muse. “Yeah. You know, isn’t that what an assistant does? I don’t know. I’ve never been an assistant before. Remember?”
Mars gave Cara a suspicious look. “Yeah. Of course.”
For the next few days, Cara did what she could to develop a rhythm between the two. She set up a desk in the studio where she would sit and watch videos on her phone. Initially, Mars had tried to teach her things to make her helpful, but he quickly learned that being helpful wasn’t Cara’s strong suit.
From Cara’s perspective, she was doing great at her new job. She was there to inspire Mars to create a line of clothing and from where she sat, that was exactly what he was doing. When she wasn’t sitting at her desk staring at Mars’ ass, she was often thinking about how much of a genius she was. After months of not working, she had managed to get him going in five minutes. She had clearly missed her life’s calling.
After a week had passed, Cara noticed a frustration set upon Mars. She wasn’t sure what was going on. He had created three different blouses, a pair of linen pants and a few variations of shorts. She liked them all. She had been very impressed.
“What’s the matter, Mars?” She asked joining him at the sewing table.
“It’s wrong. All of this is wrong,” he said hiding none of his angst.
“What do you mean? This is some really great stuff you’ve designed here. I mean, look at this.” Cara held up her favorite blouse. It was a cream colored V-neck made with velvet. “This is so cool! I would definitely where this.”
“Yeah, but it’s garbage.”
Cara felt offended by his dismissal of her opinion. “It’s not garbage. I just told you that I would wear it. I would buy this!”
Mars turned and stared at Cara. “What you’re saying now isn’t helping me. Aren’t you supposed to be an assistant? Assist.”
Cara, caught off guard, was pushed back on her heels. She wasn’t ready to actually do anything. Her plan was simply to offer her opinion and have him immediately feel better. Making guys feel better about themselves wasn’t one of her strong suits either.
With Mars staring at her, Cara twisted her lip and thought.
“Well?” Mars pressured.
“Give me a second. I’m thinking.”
“Oh, great. You’re thinking. I can’t wait for what that brings. Here, let me alert the news. Cara’s thinking and she’s going to come up with some brilliant idea that is just going to solve everything. Newspapers, stop the presses. Cara Reeder is about to change the world!” Mars spat dripping with venom.
Cara stared at Mars shocked. His attack had seemingly come out of nowhere. “You want to know what I think? You’re a real asshole. That’s what I think. Stop the presses! Mars Templer is a real asshole. Oh, wait, no one’s surprised.”
Mars looked at her pissed. “Fuck you!”
“Fuck you!” Cara spat before turning and storming out of the studio.
Cara marched down the hallway boiling. She was on the verge of tears, not because of what he said to her, but because of when he said it. She was actually trying to be nice to him. She had given him a complement. What the hell was his problem?
Cara lasted until the entrance way of the casino before she stopped and exploded into a handful of tears. She decided that she hated Mars and she was never going back to the studio. She didn’t care if it meant that she didn’t get the contract for the brewing Company. None of that mattered. Mars was an epic asshole and there was no way that she was going to deal with him again.
When Cara could finally stop crying, she wiped her tears and marched to the lobby. There she found Mr. Rhamming, the thick man who had helped her find the food and beverage manager the day she had arrived. He looked up from his computer as Cara approached. His face melted into horror as soon as he saw Cara’s tear-stained appearance.
“Ms. Reeder? Is there anything wrong?”
“I need to speak to Brik Evander,” Cara demanded.
“You mean the owner of the hotel?” He asked confused.
“He doesn’t own this hotel. A multinational owes this hotel. And yes, I need to speak to him.”
“Perhaps there’s something that I can help you with,” Mr. Rhamming suggested kindly.
“There isn’t. You have to tell me where I can find Brik Evander. I am here doing an important job for him and I need to speak to him about it now,” she said feeling her frustration build.
“Are you sure that there isn’t someone else who could help you with this?”
“Listen, I’m doing a private job for Brik Evander and if he finds out that I tried to get a hold of him and you stopped me, he’s gonna be pretty pissed, and not at me,” Cara threatened heartlessly. “So, are you going to tell me where I can find him, or are you going to explain to the owner of the hotel why I packed up and went home without telling him anything about it?”
Mr. Rhamming decided not to argue further. Without a word, he picked up the phone and dialed a number.
“Yes, this is Mr. Rhamming, the front desk manager. I have a guest here who was looking to speak to Mr. Evander.” He paused as he listened. “She says that she is doing a job for him.” He paused again and then held his hand over the mouthpiece as he spoke to Cara. “I’m sorry, can I get your name again?”
“Cara Reeder. He knows who I am.”
“Her name is Cara Reeder. Yes, I’ll hold.” It didn’t take long for the person on the other end to get back to him. “Okay, thank you. I’ll send her up.” Mr. Rhamming hung up th
e phone and turned to Cara. “Mr. Evander is staying in the penthouse suite. Follow me and I’ll buzz you up.”
As angry as Cara was, hearing that the owner of the hotel wanted her to come up made her feel a little better. Mars had made her feel really bad and like she was nothing. But the person that everyone in the hotel was trying to impress, was giving her priority access to his time. She had been ready to fight and scream to make Brik understand that what she had to say was important. But she hadn’t had to. That meant something to her.
Sniffing and wiping her face, Cara followed Mr. Rhamming to the elevator. Once a door opened, he went in in front of her and touched his key card onto the inside panel and pressed the top button.
“There you go. Have a good day,” he said before exiting and allowing the doors to close.
Though filled with anger only moments before, suddenly Cara was feeling nervous. When she had been talking to Brik by the pool, he seemed like just another guy. Now that she was going to the penthouse of one of the grandest resorts in the world, things felt different.
Watching the numbers on the display increase, she decided that she had to regain her fury. She couldn’t forget why she was going there. She was going to tell Brik that he could take his job and shove it up his ass. Nothing was worth having to deal with Mars. He was some sort of animal, and Cara wasn’t about to put up with him.
When the doors finally opened, Cara was again focused on what she had to do. In spite of that, the size of the penthouse threw her. The elevator didn’t open up to a hallway, it opened to the penthouse itself. In front of her was a design reminiscent of the white and dark wood lobby. But in this case, instead of dark wood, it was gold.
Cara took a step forward entering the most extravagant room that she had ever been in. The ceilings had to be 20 feet high and the furniture looked like it belonged in a French castle.
Directly ahead of her was a white grand piano. To her right were a series of entertainment spaces. To her left was the kitchen and what had to be bedrooms. And outside connecting the two was a humongous balcony.
“Ms. Reeder?” A smartly dressed woman asked as she approached from the right.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Mr. Evander will see you now. You can follow me this way,” she said before leading Cara back to where she had entered.
Cara cut through the grandiose living room, walking by the 15-foot white rounded couch. Continuing on toward and pass the bar, she was led to a set of glass stairs. Ascending those she found herself on a second floor. It was there that the woman knocked on the door and waited.
“Come in,” a familiar voice said from within.
The woman opened the door and inside was Brik who sat behind a huge walnut desk. He looked like the president in the Oval Office or something. And, as much as Cara tried to hold onto her righteous anger, she felt it being replaced by intimidation and wonder.
“Ms. Reeder, did you want to have a seat?” Brik asked leaning back in his chair.
Cara stared at him having forgotten how good looking he was. But, determined to stand her ground, she lifted her chin and gestured towards him.
“I will stand because I won’t be staying long,” she declared.
Surprised by her words, Brik leaned forward genuinely seeming concerned. “Is something the matter?”
“Yes, something’s the matter. I can’t work with that man anymore. He’s such an incredible asshole.”
“Oh,” he said before chuckling. “Is that it?”
“Don’t laugh. It’s not funny,” she said regaining her strength. “I’m not gonna let him treat me like that. Nothing you can offer me is worth it.”
“Okay, I see,” Brik said becoming more serious. “So, I take it that you’ve decided to leave the hotel and go back to Boston?”
“Yes, I have. And there’s nothing you could say to stop me,” she stated determined.
“I understand. He is a lot to deal with. You are not the first person to have had enough of him, so I have to say that I’m not surprised. I guess I was just hoping that you two had found a connection in each other.”
“What do you mean?” Cara replied feeling a little disarmed.
“You know, you both share, how do I put this? A certain abrasiveness. I was hoping that that meant you would have a little more sympathy for his situation.”
“His situation? What do you mean?” Cara asked feeling a little confused.
Brik got up and circled the room to the minibar. “Do you have time for this? I mean, do you have to rush off to a flight or something?”
“No. I haven’t booked my flight yet.”
“Then, would you like a drink? I have the good stuff up here.”
Cara thought it was a ridiculous question whether or not she wanted to drink. She always had time for a drink.
“I can sit for a few minutes, I guess.”
“Good. Because, tell you the truth, I’ve been needing a break myself. It’s easy to get tunnel vision when you’re locked in an ivory tower,” Brik said with a sympathetic smile.
Taking a seat, Cara had no clue what he was talking about. Was he saying that he was bored or something? That couldn’t be the case. If she had had access to the type of money that he did, she wouldn’t be bored or lonely a day in her life.
After pouring two glasses of something from a fancy bottle, Brik collected them and sat in a chair next to the one Cara had chosen. Handing her a drink, Brik settled into the soft swivel chair and leaned forward to cheers with Cara.
“To failed experiments,” he said with irony.
The two clinked glasses and drank. After, Cara looked down at her drink. She could certainly recognize the taste, but never in her life had she tasted a scotch so smooth. It literally tasted like butter. Cara immediately knew that she was entering some dangerous territory.
“Do you like it? It’s my favorite,” Brik asked seeming much more relaxed than the man she had met on the first day.
“Yes, it’s good,” she admitted.
“I’m glad you like it. The scotch is $3000 a bottle.”
Cara almost choked when she heard the price. She wasn’t sure that she could spend that much money on beer in six months. Probably close, but not that much.
“I can taste it,” she told him.
“What, the dark chocolate flavor?”
“No, the $3000.”
Caught off guard, Brik laughed. He was certainly a different man than the one standing over her next to the pool. She liked this version of him better.
“So, what did you mean by saying that you thought I would understand him?” She continued.
“It’s just that I thought you would understand that he is under a lot of pressure. Think about it. Here’s a man who prides himself on his creativity. He then signs what could be the biggest deal of his life. And then suddenly, the thing that he has always relied on, his creativity, abandons him. What must that feel like?”
Cara had to admit, she hadn’t given much thought to what Mars might be going through. Brik was right, though. It had to have been tough on him. What must it feel like to know that you’re choking at bat? It had to be difficult.
“Still, though. He can’t get away with treating people like that. We aren’t all toys in his game,” she clarified.
“I agree. You’re right. But he isn’t always like this. I’ve seen him change over the last few months since signing the contract. There has been a lot of downward spiraling. That’s why I thought you might do him some good. You know, a pretty girl, some great energy. Maybe it might snap him out of it.
“And from what he has told me, I was right. He told me that he was working on some stuff. Is that correct?”
Cara couldn’t help the sense of pride that she felt. “Yeah. He has a couple of blouses, a pair of pants and some shorts. They look good.”
Brik leaned forward becoming more interested. “That’s great! Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know. He says they’re all wron
g,” Cara said feeling helpless.
Brik leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Artists! Am I right?”
It was Cara’s time to chuckle. “You are definitely not wrong.”
Brik leaned forward to cheers again. “To artists.”
“To artists,” Cara said meeting Brik’s glass.
Taking a second swig of her $3000 scotch, Cara had to admit that she was feeling better. Maybe she didn’t have to leave immediately. But if she didn’t, what was she supposed to do.
“I’m not sure I can help Mars any more than I have. I think you might have hired the wrong person for the job,” Cara admitted sadly.
“No. I hired exactly the right person for the job. Mars doesn’t need someone who’s going to roll over for him. He needs someone who will stand up and pushback when he pushes. I think he needs to know that he has someone there who has his back. He needs someone with your spine.”
“Well, I definitely pushed back. That’s for sure.”
“And, you know what? He probably appreciated it.”
Cara stared at Brik as she tried to wrap her head around what he was saying. All of it made sense. She had spent a week with Mars. It wasn’t like he was that bad of a guy. He just had his moments. But, if she was being honest, didn’t she have moments as well?
“Yeah, but still. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do for him.”
Brik gave her a sympathetic smile. “You know what, you’ll figure it out. You got him this far, and I’m absolutely positive you’ll make the right next step.”
Cara looked down searching her mind as to what to do.
“Listen, you don’t have to figure it out right now. How about this? I’ll book you a slot at the spa. They are usually booked up but I know the owner of the place so I can get you in,” he said with a smile and wink.
Cara chuckled.
“Spend the day there. Hell, spend the next two days there. Get whatever you want and don’t leave until you feel a thousand times better. Do you hear me?” He asked playfully.
“Okay, fine. I’ll spend the day at the spa,” she said feigning reluctance.