Planned to Perfection

by Roxanne Tully

“Yes, thank you.” Isabel placed the crumpled napkin down just before the man started to walk away.

  She cleared her throat loudly and glanced down, which had conspicuously led the waiter to catch the empty glass Scott was holding.

  “Sir.” The man held out the tray.

  Taking his eyes off Isabel for only a second, Scott turned to set the glass atop the tray and thank the waiter, then raised an eyebrow once he turned his attention back to her. “That was considerate of you,” he acknowledged.

  Her mouth fell open before any sound came out and her eyes wandered for a beat. “Well I—” she recovered with a breath and peered her eyes into his. “You caught me. It was just a gentle reminder that he should focus on the male guests as well.”

  His mouth curved into a smile. “Hmm, well maybe you could drop a hint to the photographer, because he seems to be focused on you at the moment too.”

  Her eyes darted to the pony-tailed man in the black suit holding the camera. He not so swiftly redirected his focus on a couple a few feet from them.

  “See, and here I thought that you were just hinting at buying me another drink,” he continued, peering at her.

  She jerked her head back playfully. “Are they no longer free for the evening?”

  Scott bulged his eyes dramatically. “Have your drinks been free all night? That does it, the next time I go to one of these, I’m wearing lipstick!”

  She laughed again. “Mr. Weston, this has been fun, but I need to be going.” She stepped back and turned to walk away.

  His brows furrowed. This was new.

  “Another party?” he called after her.

  She turned her head back. “No.”

  “Curfew?”

  She fully turned back to him, and seemed as though she were about to respond when her mouth fell open and eyes wandered slightly—as if she were trying to hear something. She refocused back to him after a moment and grinned. “Just ready to call it a night.”

  He nodded slowly and gave her his best cordial smile. That was all he was going to do. If he said anything at this point, it would be to stop her from leaving.

  And that’s not who he was.

  He watched her attempt to gracefully make her way through the crowded ballroom and smiled to himself.

  Perhaps for tonight, he’d break his own rule.

  Chapter 5

  Elle

  “Where are you going?” Elle heard Shawn ask through the earpiece.

  “Why don’t you focus on someone else, Shawn?”

  “Hey, remember this was a favor, Elle.”

  She sighed, “I’ll be back in 15 minutes.” She muted her earpiece.

  As soon as I can get someone to let me in through the back door, that is.

  Elle stood with her eyes closed, breathing in the cool fresh air. She was glad summer was over and the cooler weather was swiftly taking over. A sweater would have been nice at the moment. She would go back in a few minutes—back to the rushing and sweating and panicking.

  What was it about her job that she loved? Elle was a good problem solver. She enjoyed it. Someone could tell her their thoroughly thought out weekend plans, and she’d tell them where they went wrong. She wouldn’t say she loved the planning. It was stressful and, more often than not, almost always involved working for impossible people. Sometimes she just wished she could call people, tell them what to do over the phone and hang up. Skip the hustle and bustle.

  But that didn’t pay.

  She laughed to herself at the idea of having a hotline for party advice.

  “Something I said?” the familiar voice called just before he stepped beside her.

  Scott. It was the tall, green-eyed charmer who basically chased her out of the venue. She was nearly at a loss for words when he approached her, which She chocked up to be because she hoped any damage control would go unnoticed. And not because he was incredibly handsome.

  The reason she was out here, standing as if she were a guest waiting for a car, rather than what she really was… an overdressed staff member, trying to figure out a way to get back in that venue and avoid any more re-appearances on the floor.

  She smiled. “No, actually it was something I said,” she responded, honestly.

  “Ah. I’ll try harder next time,” he whistled and held up his arm.

  Elle turned to the yellow taxi pulling up in front of them. She stood frozen; her usual quick thinking failing her at the moment.

  He stepped in front of her and opened the door. “Just Isabel, it was an unbelievable pleasure meeting you.”

  You can say that again.

  She smiled again. “Scott Weston, the unbelievable pleasure was honestly all mine.” She slid into the car and gave him a small wave as the car took off.

  Wait.

  She was leaving?

  She couldn’t leave. The party was still going on. She needed to go back. There were…guests to see out, gratuities to be paid, and she still had all her stuff back there.

  But Elle knew she was no amateur. Even from around the block, she could handle all the necessary wrap ups for this evening. Maybe with a thing or two that the venue concierge could assist with. She tapped on her earpiece and began some damage control.

  This time, it was her own.

  * * *

  The next morning, the black sedan made it perfectly clear he wasn’t stopping when Elle raced in her heels to catch the city bus.

  Growing up in the city, she knew when it was a safe bet to cross, and when it was best to wait. Today however, she may have misjudged—which can happen easily when running late for work and it’s barely your second week.

  She could have sworn the sedan brushed against her flared skirt as she just barely made it across the intersection and onto the city bus.

  The night before, Elle had to wait until it was confirmed that every last guest had left the venue before going back for her stuff, which unfortunately hadn’t been until nearly one in the morning. And she couldn’t risk one of those guests—a certain Mr. Weston, who she noticed speaking with Donovan Hayes—to recognize her wandering about. Especially after the brief internet search she’d done on the man. Besides being first on the Hayes event guest list, the man was as close as anyone could get to the CEO of Hayes Enterprises. And Donovan Hayes himself, seemed to be a big deal to the firm that currently employed her.

  Yeah, too close for comfort.

  You couldn’t just be a nobody, could you, Mr. Weston?

  Elle hoped off the bus and glanced around before running straight into the building. She’d already be just under a half hour late to work so stopping for coffee was no longer an option. Not to mention how obnoxious it would appear to the tenured employees. She did not want a reputation. Elle didn’t like any kind of attention, much less negative kind.

  The elevator doors opened to her floor. She trailed in quickly; making a bee-line for her desk—all the way in the back.

  “Elle,” Dean called from the doorframe of his office. She had just stopped and turned to his direction when he was already walking further into his office, leaving the door left open for her.

  Man, don’t they give a girl room to breathe here?

  “Dean, I just walked in the door,” surprising herself with her tone and truthfulness.

  She needed coffee and quick.

  “Yes, I see that. Please come in, tell me about last night.”

  She couldn’t exactly tell him this was a less than optimal time for her full report on the night. She needed to sit, gather her thoughts, and recover from lack of sleep. At least have some coffee for Christ’s sake.

  Nonetheless, she was a professional.

  She might be able to explain this to Dean. After all, though they weren’t exactly friends before she agreed to work for him, they were barely more than just acquaintances.

  She’d often give him updates and reviews on new venues, give him warning on watchdog vendors and sent him all the necessary “beware of…” articles that may be of use to him and his
firm. They met at the Conrad Ballroom less than three years ago when a new manager of the elaborate venue double booked their event, and after having some unfriendly words, they ended up working together to make it work. Elle came up with decorations that blended and worked for both parties and walked his clients through the changes delicately and flawlessly. Dean had once told her, her magic may have saved his firm that summer!

  When she was laid off from her job at Brightman, she casually sent him another useful article and signed the email, “Free Agent”. She wouldn’t think of asking for work, no matter how embarrassing her savings were looking those days.

  But again, if her boss needed the lowdown on the long night right this moment—she’d oblige.

  “Cocktails went off without a hitch. I had previously arranged for extra valets so there wouldn’t be delays. The party didn’t start one minute late, but there were some stragglers when it ended. Mr. Donovan left a generous staff tip which I distributed as per my gratuity allocation chart. No damage was done at the property. No allergic reactions. The musicians played at an acceptable volume and appeared to be highly admired.”

  “Excellent. And no one saw you on the floor?”

  “Not a soul.”

  “Great work,” he mumbled, already focused on his emails.

  That was it? She pulled off the nearly impossible and all she received was “great work?” Meanwhile, the musicians—who lost their gig for this past Sunday and were therefore available for the event, got thanked profusely from Dean.

  She shook her head—possibly visibly, and turned on her heel. “I’ll go now.”

  “Oh–hey sorry to cut this short, I wanted to ask you more about how you’ve liked working here so far—”

  “Oh well…”

  “But I have an important meeting I need to prep for—so we’ll catch up later.”

  With a single nod she walked out the door.

  Back at her desk, she slumped down and debated on turning on her computer. She was not ready for anything else today. A day off would have been nice. Sure, nearly everyone at the firm worked weekends, it was the nature of the job, but she worked overtime to get this event perfect.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught Mimi pushing off the back wall of her cube to wheel up to Elle.

  “Congrats” she raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you’re here to stay.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You know if you didn’t pull this off, you would have been gone today, right?”

  How could she forget the top secrecy of why this particular event was so vital to nail to perfection, down to the very last non-raspberry topped pastry?

  “Thanks for the official welcome.” It was always appreciated to be reminded of your current situation; broke and practically fighting to keep a job.

  How did everything get so screwed up? Elle was better than this. She was a brilliant planner. She had been one of the top at her last firm. She knew the business; knew all the secrets; knew all the hits and misses of event planning history. Even socially—she worked the crowds, befriended each and every client that walked through her private office. How she missed having it all together. She was never well off, but she loved what she did. And then the magic carpet she’d been riding, had been ripped from beneath her, and she had been falling ever since.

  “I knew you’d pull it off.”

  “You don’t even know how it went.”

  “I didn’t need to. I heard you run with it from day one and had to hand it to you. You knew what you were doing.”

  Elle narrowed her eyes at her new friend. “You know, you’re right, I did kind-of kick ass with this one, didn’t I?”

  Mimi leaned into her and glanced around. “You stole the damn show around here.” She leaned back in her chair and studied Elle. “Something tells me Dean already knew this about you.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because about a month before you started, the firm went on a hiring freeze.”

  Elle frowned. “What? But then why…”

  Mimi looked her up and down and shrugged holding her palms up. “Now you understand the catty looks and judgment you’ve been seeing around here.”

  Elle blew out a steady breath, glancing around at her surrounding colleagues. The invisible walls suddenly closing in on her. Her time here was limited. There was no doubting that. “I need coffee; I’ll be back in a few.”

  Chapter 6

  Scott

  Scott tossed the file back on the wooden table in Dean’s large office; correction, Dean and Starr’s office. They shared the spacious room, occupied by the two clean wooden desks directly across from each other. The room thankfully had roller shades down, reducing the glare from the enormous windows which covered most of the rooms’ back wall. The relatively new business center on the lower west side was managed by a well-known developer who welcomed firms to lease by floor at the minimum. The rent was astronomical and nonnegotiable.

  “Consider me impressed, Dean.”

  Dean clapped his hands together and plucked himself off the front of his desk where he’d been leaning. “I knew you would be. I never doubted my team.”

  Starr crossed from where she stood by the window to the sofa and sat uncomfortably close to him. “Scott, last night’s event is a terrific example of what we do here. We craft amazing, unforgettable events for all our clients and sometimes,” she glanced at her partner enthusiastically, “we make miracles happen.”

  Scott breathed in deep and shifted as soon as he felt the woman, wearing a fiery red dress, brush her leg against his. He caught the look Dean shot his partner a warning. Starr was a fierce and bold business owner who had let her success blind her on keeping her firm running without threat of going bankrupt. About a decade older than Scott, she managed to maintain some youthful features, but regardless, everything about the woman screamed cougar. He sighed internally. It’s not like he couldn’t handle her type. Most times he’d actually enjoyed it. But not when he was strongly considering going into business with the so-called power non-couple.

  Scott stood, grabbing the folder he’d been reviewing of the Hayes event and cleared his throat, “Noticed you stayed within budget, too.”

  “Came under, actually,” Dean corrected.

  Scott nodded, absently.

  “So, should we draw up the paperwork?” Dean rubbed his hands together. His confidence rising high after last night’s questionable success.

  Scott stared at the man he had once considered a friend. He and Dean went to graduate school together nearly a decade ago, with a focus in Business. Dean went into entrepreneurship, taking course after course on running your own business. Back then, Dean was just as cocky, insisting he’d never work for anyone. He’d hit the ground running the day he graduated. Sure enough, the guy started his firm, building it from the ground up; eventually partnering with Starr in order to expand. Now here he was, needing a bailout—and by the looks of it, he needed it fast.

  Scott, on the other hand, hadn’t been sure of what he wanted when he graduated. He wasn’t as eager and didn’t picture endless dollar signs every time he chose his courses. He studied business intelligence and management. Hayes Enterprises was his first job out of grad school and Scott never regretted a single move.

  He liked Dean, but his ego was his downfall. Even now, the man stood before him, head held high coming just two inches shorter, with messier hair and an unkempt scruff. Being an old friend, Scott didn’t feel he owed Dean anything. But he appreciated the idea behind the non-profit charity event planners. And wanted to see it thrive, despite how he felt about its owners.

  “My lawyers will do that part, but not so fast,” Scott answered. “You both need to understand that this isn’t just about throwing a good party. I’m sure your staff is amazing, every last one of them, but there’s much more of my advice that you haven’t even considered.” He hated getting frustrated. He never bothered to work this hard. Desperate business owners were eager to follow his gu
idance—albeit, they might consider them demands, but still followed them nonetheless.

  “Listen, I like what you guys do and I want to help, but I’m not investing in a business that demonstrates they don’t need to be saved. A business that uses its resources to do charitable events at cost, can’t be granting raises, hiring, and be running out of such a prominent location,” Scott circled in place and waved his hands around, “You don’t have clients coming here, you don’t need all this.”

  “With all due respect, Scott,” Dean started sluggishly, in a you still have a lot to learn tone, “Starr and I worked very hard to get to a point where we can have such a location—for five straight years. And as for our employees, they are important to us, and they’re loyal. So yes, to show our appreciation, we do compensate them competitively.” Dean hesitated then continued. “You don’t know this trade, Scott. By limiting the number of employees we have, we limit the projects we take on.”

  “With all due respect, Dean, I may not know much about the event planning business, but I’ve also never been in a situation where I need to shut down and start over. Which, I don’t know if you realize this,” his lip curved and head tilted to the side as he pointed out the door “once that happens—they’re walkin’ right out with you.” He straightened, watching his old friend stand speechless. “You cut two today, you save eighteen for at least another few months until we figure out a new strategy.”

  Dean let out a breath. He glanced at Starr, who motioned an arm toward him, giving her partner the decision. “Fine, we’ll consider some layoffs’,” he mumbled, then added loudly “along with other strategies, which we will come up with together.”

  Scott glared back at Dean for a long moment. “I’ll have my lawyer draft something this week,” he moved to the door. “But nothing is getting signed until I start seeing some effort on your end. I won’t have my money drained in a business that refuses to make changes.”

  “Understood,” Dean nodded, unenthusiastically.

  “Scott,” Starr, who’d been awfully quiet most of the discussion, came up behind him and turned him to face her. “I agree, perhaps we have been too loyal to our employees, but it might be a good idea for you to meet them, maybe individually or an official group introduction right out on our floor.” She peeked at Dean, who looked as though he was about to come out of his skin. “Of course once you’re officially part owner of the establishment.”