Pretty Smart Girls

by Shae Ross

  Chapter Ten

  Jett

  We’re sitting outside the boardroom holding tight, watching the girls twitch with nerves while the Trott family debates whether Team Ryan or Team Jett scored higher points today. Having won the most points Monday and Tuesday, we’ll be sitting pretty if we score higher today. In fact, it will be nearly impossible for the girls to win this competition if they lose again today. I have a feeling they’ve got us beat this round, though.

  We watched their presentation through the glass window. The Trotts had asked us to design a new campaign to reinvigorate their brand. The girls designed a new logo and, from what we could see, launched a social media campaign complete with the use of YouTube clips, Twitter, blogging, and Facebook. Although we recommended all of the same tools, we made a fatal mistake: we didn’t actually launch the platforms we recommended—just discussed the metrics of how each tool would increase brand awareness. And then we stood watching, like kids at a candy shop window, as the girls played their YouTube video. When I pulled it up on my laptop, it already had over a thousand views. I scratch my head and let out a breath.

  The Trotts are standing, moving out of the boardroom.

  Robert ducks his head around the corner and addresses us. “We’ll be back in fifteen with the decision,” he says, winking at Ryan. I watch her turn away with a slightly uncomfortable look on her face and he disappears.

  Ben shamelessly flirts with Devi and appears not the least bit concerned about our results. “So where do you think you ladies will put your tats?” he asks them. I watch Ryan for her response. A small swallow ripples down her neck. She doesn’t strike me as a girl who would ever consider marring any part of her perfect body with permanent ink.

  “I was thinking I’ll put mine on your ass,” Devi responds to Ben.

  “Awwww, Dev, that’s so sweet,” he moans. He stands, staring at her with his hands on his hips. “I think what you’re really sayin’ is you wanna see my ass. I can make that happen,” he says, raising a hand to his belt. I start to shake my head. I’ve seen this show before. I raise my voice. “Ben, we’re in the boardroom here. Press pause, will ya.”

  He winks at Devi. “We’ll continue this later.”

  “You can continue it later in your dreams.” She laughs.

  I see the Trott family through the glass window wall, coming our way. “We’re on,” I say to the group. Everyone stands as Robert signals us, then we filter back into the boardroom. Robert winks at Ryan as she passes him. That might not be a good sign.

  “Okay, everyone,” Mr. Trott says. “Before we announce the winner of today’s competition, I have some notes to share about tomorrow. Because we will not be in the boardroom and are going out into the field, you’ll need to be dressed appropriately. Trott Ventures is testing a food truck concept, and tomorrow your team will run one of the trucks. We have four themes to pick from; Mexican, Japanese, Cuban, or Middle Eastern. So, ladies, no heels tomorrow. Comfortable shoes, jeans, and T-shirts. Got it?”

  We all nod.

  He takes off his glasses. “And today’s victory…goes to the girls.”

  Devi whoops with excitement and dives on Ryan. Jade joins them for a group hug, and soon the conference room is filled with the noise of their laughter.

  Despite our loss we are smiling, too. Someone starts a round of applause and we join in. Ryan is laughing with her team, a sweet, rich sound that stirs something within me, and I can’t stop staring at her. Their enthusiasm fills the room with buoyant warmth, like the sun rising around us. She looks at me and her smile becomes more intimate, as if I’m someone she wants to share her happiness with. I nod my head, acknowledging her win.

  Mr. Trott interrupts the celebration. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a very close competition this year. Tomorrow will be a big day, and I suggest you all be on the top of your game.” His words douse us with reality. I watch the smile melt from her face and feel my own draining. She moves to the table and begins to gather her materials. The cold edge of competition returns to my conscience, telling me to back away from Ryan Rose.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ryan Rose

  I’ve changed into a black sweaterdress and am on my knees in front of my suitcase, sorting through for my tights. “I could’ve sworn I packed them,” I mumble, sitting back on my heels.

  “What?” Devi asks.

  “Tights.”

  She pulls a small package from her bag and throws it to me. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” I rip it open, and the stockings fall into two pieces. I inspect the packaging. “These are thigh highs.”

  She stares at me with a “yeah, so?” look.

  “I can’t believe you brought thigh highs on a business trip.”

  “And I can’t believe you didn’t,” she responds in a haughty tone. “They get rid of the bulk and the cinch around your waist.”

  I stare blankly at her.

  She swats her hand at the air. “Never mind, you wouldn’t get it.”

  I stretch the sheer black material over my fingers and examine it, weighing my options. Either I slut myself up for the night or change my whole outfit.

  I slip them on. It’s not like anyone else is going to see them, right?

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re waiting in the lobby for the guys. The elevator doors open and Ben and Vaughn stroll out. We exchange greetings and stand for a minute. Jade asks what I’m thinking. “Where’s Jett?”

  “He had some work he had to finish,” Ben says, passing a quick look over me.

  “Let’s go then.” I turn and head to the doors, feeling completely deflated. I don’t know why it bothers me that he’s not showing up, but it does. Maybe it’s the fact that I blurted out the invitation in my excitement of winning and looked right at him and Devi announced we’d buy the first round. I try to press it out of my mind but it keeps circling the track.

  I concentrate on the rough clip of my boots against the damp sidewalk as we walk to Monkey Kick, telling myself it’ll be easier to forget about him once we get into the bar. I shiver and scrunch my shoulders deeper into my trench coat. The wind has picked up, and I notice the clouds moving over the fingernail sliver of white moon. I should have just stayed in the hotel room and gone to bed early.

  We grab a table in the back of the large room and order our first round. Ben and Jade try to include me in on their conversation but I’m seriously feeling like the fifth wheel, hanging uselessly off the back of the Mystery Van. I’m going to head back to the room, just waiting for the best moment to make a graceful exit. I’m looking down in my purse, trying to remember if I brought my own room key. Ben’s voice lifts above the others.

  “Hey, there’s the man!”

  I look up and see Jett dropping his leather coat onto the ledge of the booth. He slides into the seat across from me and smiles. I’m instantly aware of my heartbeat, which has increased from half dead to full alert at the sight of him. Ben pounds his fist twice into his chest in a sign of solidarity and fist pumps with Jett.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he says, turning back to me. “I had some paperwork to finish up.”

  “No worries,” I respond, trying to sound cool. There’s no way I’m going to tell him I even thought twice about his no-show status. He stares at me as if trying to read my thoughts. I hate it when he does that. I redirect my attention to the bar and slide out of the booth. “Can I get you a drink?”

  He nods and follows me, ordering a Samuel Adams for himself and a gin and tonic for me. I put my hand on his shoulder and sidestep my way in front of him when the bartender reaches for the credit card he’s extending.

  “Hey, I’m buying, remember?”

  He nods, looking a little uncomfortable with the concept. “I’m not used to having girls buy me drinks.”

  “Maybe you’ve been hanging around the wrong girls.”

  He draws a long smile. “Well, I’m sure of that. To your success today.”

  He clinks his bottle against my gl
ass and the undercurrent of attraction sparks brighter. I watch as he tips the bottle to his mouth and the muscles of his jaw and neck tighten around the swallow. My lips linger on the rim of my glass a beat longer in an effort to resist the urge to blurt out the question, “Is it hot in here?” I take another drink and force myself to look at anything other than him. I can see him watching me, the smile growing on his face. I take another drink.

  “So tell me about your proposal,” he says, genuine interest in his voice. “We saw your YouTube video.” I watch his hands as he tips his beer and then his jawline as he swallows. His forearm rests on the bar and he edges closer. “How did you get so many views in such a short time?”

  “We asked Robert if we could do a soft launch of the campaign, starting with Trott employees. He took us to Trott’s advertising department, and after they approved our content Robert provided us with the employee distribution list. We embedded the link to the video in our email and engaged the employees by asking them to vote on their favorite logo design. By the end of the day, we had just over seven hundred responses.”

  “That’s brilliant,” he says.

  On the inside I’m doing a happy dance. I know it shouldn’t matter that much to me, but after three days of intense competition, it feels damn good to get a compliment from him. And it feels even better to win. “Thanks.”

  When we return to the table, Jade and Vaughn are gone and Devi is sitting next to Ben on the booth side of the table. The two of them are laughing like smitten hyenas. Jett pulls out the chair for me, then takes the seat beside me.

  “What’s gotten into the two of them?” I ask Jett.

  “My guess would be vodka.” He winks at me, and we laugh.

  Ben is taking a long hit from his beer, staring at Devi. She leans over the table and grabs his big hand with both of hers.

  “Let’s dance, you guys.” She looks at me. “Come on, Ryan, you want to?”

  “Sure.” I immediately start second-guessing my decision. It could mean I’ll be stuck on the dance floor with Jett when the music slows. Too late. Devi reaches across the table and grabs Jett’s hand along with Ben’s.

  The dance floor is a sunken square packed with people. White lights flash to the bone-jarring beat as we step down. The sheer size of Ben and Jett together is enough to clear a space, giving Devi and me the room we need to have fun. We start to move around the guys, and I’m emboldened by the devouring look Jett is giving me. I’m sure the gin and tonics I’ve consumed aren’t hurting, either.

  I step into Jett’s space, sway, and turn. I’m holding my arms up, rolling my neck. I turn back to him and he’s inches from me. I flip around again and start dancing with Devi. The guys are closing in on our backs, and we duck around each other and I dance with Ben while Devi hip bumps Jett. We bounce back together and the four of us dance in a circle, laughing.

  After two more songs, the hard beat of the music stops. A thin layer of perspiration tickles the back of my neck, and my stomach drops as the first few bars of a slow dance strain out.

  Ben scoops Devi up in a bear hug and walks to the middle of the floor. Her dark tresses lift and swing through the air as he spins her around. She’s laughing, clinging to him as he sets her down.

  When I turn back to Jett, he’s standing in front of me, holding a hand out. The music pulses around us, mimicking the rhythm of my heart. I stare at his strong hand, open and waiting.

  He steps closer. “Don’t worry, Rose. I’ll go easy on you.” The words slide off his tongue and flip through the air—like a single card drawn from a poker deck—and land in front of me. His gaze narrows with intensity, daring me to pick up what he’s laid down. I stare at his perfectly cast features and all I want to do is move into the circle of his arms and feel them close around me.

  My cheeks hollow and sink between my teeth. It’s too much to resist. He’s too much to resist. I take his hand, step into his arms, and smile up at him. My chest presses completely against him, our hips together, his thigh barely between mine. We sway as if our bodies are sewn together. He moves us into a spin and holds my face against his palm as we dance. Sensuality swirls my insides into warm knots. As much as I didn’t want a slow dance to begin, a thousand times more I don’t want it to end. I could stay here all night feeling surrounded by his arms, his scent, his voice. By the time the song ends, I’m breathless and a little overwhelmed. I step back, caught in the tangle of my shifting emotions while I watch him lift my hand to his lips in slow motion—as if it’s an appendage not connected to my body. An appreciative smile melts over his features, and I can feel myself smiling back at him like a fourteen-year-old girl staring at the lead singer of a boy band.

  “Thanks for the dance, Rose.”

  I shake myself out of my drunken-fool daze and search the floor for Devi. She and Ben are nowhere to be found. Ben’s usually so easy to spot. “I think they’ve ditched us,” I say, smiling at the realization. I turn back to Jett and he’s smiling, too.

  “C’mon, I’ll walk you back to the hotel.” He grabs my hand, we snag our jackets, and head out.

  The street is cast in shadows and deserted, but for a lone dog walker. I steal glances of Jett’s profile as his gaze moves casually between the darkened windows of the closed storefronts and Manhattan’s skyline. His hands are in his pockets, relaxed as if on a Sunday stroll.

  “So, do you have a girlfriend at Michigan?” The words slip out of my mouth, and I feel as if I’ve just asked him if he prefers boxers or briefs. But now that I’ve blurted it out, I really want to know. He glances sideways, and his mouth hints at a smile.

  He shakes his head slowly. “No. I have a lot of friends, no girlfriends.”

  “Have you ever?”

  “Had a girlfriend?” He looks at me as if I’ve just asked him if he’s male.

  “Had a long-term girlfriend.”

  “I dated a girl most of my junior year at Michigan.”

  “What happened?” I pry, as if dirty dancing with him gives me the right to know his background.

  “I really didn’t give the relationship the time it needed or the time she wanted.”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “Too busy. Too focused. Working on my program. I wanted to get into the college of business, keep my position debating, work for my dad’s business in the summer—not much time left after all that.”

  I let out a short gasp as the heel of my boot buckles against the pavement and I wobble. His hand shoots out, gripping my elbow. “Careful,” he says, smiling down at me. I stand back up and a small laugh erupts. He tucks my hand in his arm. I tighten my hold and move a little closer, trying to count the number of drinks I had. I abandon the thought of counting as we walk—entirely too much effort. The only thing my brain seems to be able to concentrate on is the feel of his bicep under my curled fingers and the small area at the side of my breast that’s brushing against his arm with every step. A neon diner sign flashes red over our faces as we walk past, and I’m trying to remember what we were talking about before I stumbled. Oh, yeah. I was drilling him about a girlfriend.

  “Do you ever miss her?”

  “Who? Jess?” He says her name with a tone of familiarity, stirring an uncomfortable feeling. Jealousy? It’s the alcohol, I justify.

  “Noooo, I don’t miss her a bit,” he says. “And how about you? Seeing anyone?”

  “If I was, I’d be seriously questioning my commitment to that relationship right now.” I can feel myself blushing at the spontaneous confession, but Jett laughs, easing my mind.

  “Well put,” he says, pulling me closer to his side as a gust of wind rushes over us. I reach up to grip a hand around my hair, pulling it forward over one shoulder to keep it from blowing wild around my face.

  His hand pushes open the hotel door and we walk past the front desk toward the elevators. As the arrival bell pings, I catch sight of a swag of gold fabric glistening in the shadow of a ballroom at the end of the corridor. I tug Jett’s arm and direct
his attention to the room. The door has been left ajar and we slip in. A waft of floral scents swirls around us—lilies, gardenias, and roses. The room is dim but for the streetlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The soft rays catch sparks of gold from the massive ceiling swags that float through the air like magic carpets and reflect against the crystal chandeliers.

  “Wow,” I say, panning the room.

  “Must be set up for a banquet,” Jett says. He starts to weave past the linen-draped tables—well over a hundred—walking toward the windows. I follow, watching his dark profile, obstructed every few steps by the staggered floral centerpieces. My fingers drag over the starchy linen fabric, feeling it change to dots of soft silk. I look down to see what I’m touching; a scattering of red petals, like drops of blood on snow.

  “I wonder what kind of banquet,” I say, picking up a single petal and rubbing it between my thumb and index finger. “I’d say it’s a wedding, but it’s the middle of the week.”

  “Society of American Florists,” Jett says, stopping beside a display board that’s leaning against a dark wood podium.

  “Ahh. Makes sense now.” I see a tall shadowy object on the side of the room. I walk toward it, listening to the soft plodding of Jett’s steps on the carpet behind me. I tilt my head. It’s a two-story replica of the Empire State Building made entirely of white roses. Beside it is a curtained photo booth covered in an arch of red roses.

  “Look!” I say, pointing.

  “Oh, well, we gotta have a picture,” Jett says. We slide out of our jackets and drop them on the floor. I step in and he follows. The small space presses us close together. He holds a hand to my hip while the other reaches over my shoulder and presses the control panel. We watch as it lights up and glowing blue letters scroll across the black screen: “One Moment Please.”