by Glazer, J B
“He’s the one I met at the gym.”
“Right. How was it?” She goes on to tell me he took her to a trendy new restaurant, where she ran into someone else she’s currently seeing. “Was it awkward?” I ask her.
“Actually, I was glad. It makes me look more desirable.”
I laugh. “That’s a good perspective.”
“So,” Nicole says, changing the subject, “have you read Fifty Shades yet?”
“Not yet, but it’s on my list.”
“I just started reading it this weekend, and I’m almost done. You can borrow mine.”
“You’re almost done? Isn’t it like five hundred pages?”
“Yes, but trust me, it’s a fast read. You’ve got to read it—it’s life changing.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.
“OK, just let me know when you’re done.”
Nicole gives me the book the next day. I give her an amused look. “I told you, life changing,” she says. I start reading it on my commute home. So far I don’t see what all the hype is about. I stay up the next night reading and finally get to the good stuff. I see what Nicole means; I can’t put it down. I usually don’t take a lunch break, but I’m so engrossed in the book that I decide to sit outside the next day. I head toward the Wrigley Building and find a grassy spot overlooking the river. I don’t want anyone reading over my shoulder, so I try to find a somewhat secluded area. This proves to be difficult during lunchtime on a beautiful day. Then I see a large planter that can serve as a bench right near the water. It’s perfect. I watch as an architectural cruise boat goes by—I’ve never been on one and realize I should take advantage of everything Chicago has to offer. As I take in the picturesque backdrop, I resolve to take a lunch break more often.
I’m in the middle of a steamy sex scene when a shadow blocks my sun. I look up and see Jake.
“Hey,” I say, startled. “What are you doing here?”
“I was on my way back from a client meeting and saw you. Whatcha reading?”
I’m embarrassed but don’t want to lie because he can probably read the cover. “Fifty Shades of Grey.”
He smirks. “How is it?”
“It’s…”I pause, searching for the right word. “…enlightening.”
“I just don’t get it. What’s all the hype about?”
“Let’s put it this way: It’s more descriptive than anything I’ve ever read. Wanna take a look? Maybe you could learn a thing or two,” I say, feigning innocence.
“Trust me, Lexi. I don’t need a book to teach me anything. I’m doing just fine on my own.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, “unless you want to prove it to me.”
“I can have a contract drawn up tomorrow.”
“Bring it on, Hartman.”
He regards me with interest. “Tell me, would any girl ever really agree to such a thing?”
“You know the premise then?” He nods. “Jake, if there really was a Christian Grey, believe me, I’d sign anything he asked me to without hesitation.”
Jake looks at me, surprised. Then he turns serious. “Lexi, any guy would be very lucky to have you.” Our conversation is interrupted by Darrien, who works in our media division.
“Hey, Jake, Lexi. You’re looking fine as always.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. “You too. You’ve been working out, I see.”
He gives me a very satisfied smile. “That I have. So what are you two discussing?”
Jake looks at me. “We were talking about Lexi’s taste in books.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Oh, what are you reading?”
“Fifty Shades of Grey.”
He gets a big grin and says, “I’d be your Christian Grey anytime. You have a need, you call me.”
I laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I’m not offended by his comment; he’s actually a really good guy.
Darrien turns to Jake. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure. I’ll head back with you. Enjoy your book, Lexi.”
“Oh, I will,” I reply. As they walk away, I reflect on our conversation. I’m on cloud nine.
The feeling, however, is short-lived. I come back to the office, and there’s an issue with Pierre, the photographer we wanted to book for the shoot—rather, the photographer Natalia insisted we use for the shoot. He is now slated to be out of the country and won’t be available. I tell Natalia we can have new choices to her within a few days, but she won’t hear of it. She wants to postpone the photo shoot until we can find a timeframe that works for the photographer. I tell her we need to rework our timeline to see what it’ll do to our launch date. My dreams of going to Paris fade before my eyes. Michelle reworks the timeline to accommodate the photographer’s schedule and shows it to me. It’s extremely tight, and we’d need the sun, moon, and stars to align to make it work. It’s doable, but it gives us no wiggle room in the event something goes wrong, and inevitably it will. I find Matt to discuss a plan of action. I really like having him as my creative counterpart because he has a maturity and quiet sensibility about him. We both agree that we need to find another photographer. Now that we know the kind of style Natalia is looking for, we can find a suitable alternative. I e-mail her and say we’re working on a revised timeline, along with a few other options, so she can make an informed decision. We set up a conference call for Wednesday afternoon.
Over the next day or so, Matt works closely with Kim, our art buyer, and strides into my office with a triumphant expression. “We got it,” he tells me. “John Paul is my recommendation.” He shows me a portfolio from a local French-American photographer that has the romantic style Natalia is looking for; plus he has experience with beauty brands. He has some shots that look to be the European countryside, but Matt tells me they were shot in his studio, and he creates the background effects in postproduction.
“You’re kidding,” I exclaim. “How did you find him?”
“Kim used him at her previous agency and said he’s great.”
“Let me talk to Kim about pricing, but given that we’re eliminating travel costs, I can’t imagine him coming in higher than Pierre.”
Kim e-mails me an estimate later that afternoon; it’s one-third the cost of the original shoot. I have Matt pull some photography samples, and we put together a presentation with our new recommendation. On a hunch, I ask Kim to have John Paul available during our call in case Natalia wants to speak with him. I talked to him yesterday, and he was very reassuring. I got the sense he totally understands what we’re looking to accomplish.
We call Natalia at our scheduled time on Wednesday. We start out by having Michelle share the new schedule and assure her that while it’s doable, it won’t allow room for any rework. Natalia is very agreeable and says she wants to proceed. “That’s great,” I say, “but we have one more option. I’m e-mailing it to you now.” Once she receives the file, Matt goes through a brief bio of the photographer and shares some of the samples that capture the essence of our campaign.
“What do you think?” I ask her.
“His style is very nice.”
“Yes, we thought so too. Plus he’s one-third the cost of Pierre.” Now I know we have her. “He’s available right now if you’d like us to conference him in. Perhaps it would give you a greater comfort level if you could speak with him.”
“Yes, that is a very good idea.”
We patch him in, and he’s very charming. He totally wins over Natalia, and she gives us permission to book him. As much as I’m upset about not going to Paris, I’m thrilled we’ve found an alternative that will make our timeline work. The last thing I need is for everyone to be stressed, because it always ends up compromising the work. I thank everyone for their flexibility and help in finding a solution. Then I go back to my office and shoot Morgan an e-mail with an update. For the most part, she lets me be autonomous, but I like to loop her in when any potential issues may a
rise. She e-mails me back, thanking me for following up and for finding a solution that will keep the project moving forward. I text Liv that Paris is out, and she replies with a sad-face emoticon. I do intend to get there, someday.
I spend the next few days focused on lining things up for the shoot. We need to find talent and a stylist and decide on looks for wardrobe. At least we no longer have to scout locations. Our first priority is casting a model for the print ad. Natalia wants to use the same talent for TV and print to establish a consistent look for the campaign. We’ve agreed on a dark-haired brunette of ambiguous ethnicity with blue eyes and fair skin. She should have somewhat of an ethereal quality, although we can accomplish a lot of that in hair and makeup. The decision is ultimately Natalia’s, but Matt and I will work closely with her to make sure we’re comfortable with the decision. We’ve been at it all morning. The plan is to make a clear yes or no decision for each girl then narrow down the yeses. So far there are only a handful of girls in that pile. Natalia has a very discerning eye, and Matt is very picky. I understand the importance of getting it right—this campaign will be the first impression US consumers have of the Lumineux brand. I watch as each model receives instructions then poses accordingly for her shot. It’s amazing how some of them look so average when they walk in, yet they transform themselves in front of the camera.
During a ten-minute break, I head outside to check my messages. The conference room is freezing, and I want to warm up. It’s a beautiful day, so I take off my jacket and enjoy the sensation of the warm sun on my skin. I’m wearing a satin halter tank that has a bold floral pattern, along with white fitted boot-cut pants. I mindlessly tie my hair into a loose knot while I play my messages. I spy Jake walking into the office, carrying his lunch.
“Hey, Jake,” I call out to him.
“Lexi, I didn’t recognize you.”
“It’s the hair,” I say, once again letting it fall around my shoulders.
He studies me for a minute and says, “It’s not the hair. It’s the pants. You usually wear skirts or dresses.”
“Oh, I guess I do,” I reply, surprised that he noticed.
“Are you in the casting meeting?”
“Yes. We’re on a break.”
“How’s it going?”
“It’s going well. We’ve seen a few possibilities, but I’m still waiting for someone to wow me. We’ll be starting up again in a few minutes—I’ll head upstairs with you.”
“After you,” he says, motioning for me to go first through the revolving doors.
“What’s your take on revolving doors?” I ask, as we’re waiting for the elevators.
“My take on it?” he says, confused.
“I mean from an etiquette standpoint. I’ve heard mixed ideas about it. One philosophy is that the guy should go first so he can push the door, and the other is that he should allow the girl to go first, as is customary.”
“I’ve never thought about it. I guess I’ve always had it engrained in my head that ladies go first, so I think that’s the safer bet. Some girls may get offended if you push the door for them. What do you think?”
“I agree with you. I don’t mind guys having nice manners, but I don’t want them doing something because they think I can’t do it for myself. And I’m definitely capable of pushing my own door.”
The elevator opens to our floor, and we part ways. “Good luck with the rest of your meeting. I hope you find someone who wows you,” Jake says.
I already have, I think as I watch his retreating back.
By Friday I’m ready for the weekend to begin. Tomorrow is my volunteer day at the children’s hospital. I applied for a position there shortly after I moved back. I love kids, and it breaks my heart to see anyone that young experience any kind of pain. I wanted to do something that would allow me to help them with the healing process, and in a way, it’s helped me heal too. I primarily work in the outpatient clinic, interacting with patients and their siblings in the waiting areas. I get to help them with art projects, games, reading—essentially anything to keep them entertained and their spirits up. Occasionally I get to help out in a one-on-one capacity, which I enjoy because I get to form more of a bond with the patients.
I wake up early on Saturday morning and head to the hospital. As it turns out, I’ll be visiting the infant and toddler rooms today because their regularly scheduled volunteer has come down with the flu. I pick up some crayons and construction paper from the nurses’ station and make my rounds. I typically only stop in rooms that have the door open. I’m about to pass one, but I hear the sound of laughter coming from inside. I lightly knock and am greeted with “Come in!” I poke my head around the curtain and see a sweet-looking little girl lying in bed, laughing at an episode of Curious George. Her mother appears to be asleep on the sofa.
“Hi. I’m Lexi. I just came by to introduce myself and see if you could help me with something.”
“What?” she asks curiously.
“I need to make a picture for my nephew’s birthday, but I don’t know how to draw.”
“What kind of picture?”
“I don’t know. He likes fish and dinosaurs, so maybe something with one of those.”
“I can help you,” she informs me.
“Great. Thanks. I have some crayons and paper here. What’s your name?”
“Molly.”
“That’s a pretty name. How old are you, Molly?”
“Three.”
“Well, in your opinion, which do you think my nephew would like better?”
“I think the dinosaur. I’m going to draw a T. rex.”
“That would be perfect.”
I sit as Molly draws the picture. She is very animated and asks me a lot of questions. I’m careful not to ask her about her diagnosis, but she offers it to me.
“I’m here because my body has a bug. It’s not supposed to be there so the doctors had to take it out.”
“Oh, no. That’s too bad. I hope you get better soon.”
“Me too, but I have a secret.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll get better because I have superpowers.”
“You know, I thought there was something special about you. What’s your superpower?”
“I have superhuman strength. I’m just here because the doctors say I have to stay. Otherwise I’d go home.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters who live at your house with you?”
“I have a big sister. She’s five.”
“Well, I bet she comes and visits a lot.”
“She does, and she brings me treats,” she says.
“That’s very nice of her. Sisters are special friends. I have sisters too.”
“You do? What are their names?”
“The older one is named Julia, but I call her “Jules” for short, and my younger sister is named Tara.”
“I like that. My sister’s name is Emma. She’s coming by to see me later. She had to go to a birthday party this morning. I wish I could go to a birthday party,” she says with a forlorn expression that tugs at my heart.
“When’s your birthday?”
“May twenty-fifth.”
“That’s coming up soon. Maybe you can have a party for your birthday.”
“But what if I’m still here?” Molly asks.
“Well, that doesn’t mean you can’t have a party. Everyone can bring the party to you.”
She seems excited about that. I see her mom stirring and realize I should make my way to see other patients. I briefly introduce myself and tell her that Molly and I have been chatting and that she’s a delightful little girl. She and Molly thank me for stopping by.
“Will you come again?” Molly asks.
“Sure. I’m here about three times a month, so I’ll stop by on my next visit.”
“Thanks, Lexi. And I’m inviting you to my party.”
“When is it?”
“May twenty-fifth.”
“Oh,” I say. “That m
akes sense. I’ll be there.”
On the way out, I put an appointment in my calendar to stop by and see Molly again. I make the rest of my rounds, and I’m about to head to the elevators when I hear someone call my name. I turn and see Molly’s mom.
“Hi. I’m Rachelle. Thank you for spending time with Molly. She seems quite taken with you.”
“It was my pleasure. She’s a special girl. And I’d like to stop by on her birthday. Can I give you my number so you can let me know when it’s a good time to come?”
“Sure. I hadn’t thought about throwing her a party. Isn’t that terrible? I’ve been so focused on her diagnosis because this is all so new—it’s a lot to take in. Molly has leukemia and had to have a tumor removed. She’ll start chemotherapy in a few weeks.”
I don’t know what to say as I hand her my phone number. “Well, I hope she’s feeling better. She’s a brave girl.”
“She is.” Rachelle smiles at me. “Anyway, I think a party is a wonderful idea. I just have to check with the doctors to make sure she can be around other kids once she starts her treatment.”
“I understand. Please keep me posted, will you?”
“I certainly will. Take care, Lexi.”
“You too.”
On my walk home I think about Molly and her positive outlook in the face of adversity. I realize I could learn a lot from her. I pledge that I too will find my inner strength.
I’m feeling nostalgic after my visit with Molly. I call Jules and ask her if I can see Charlie tomorrow.
“Of course. He was just asking about you. Scott has some stuff to do around the house, so we’ll come to the city. We could go to the Shedd.”
“That would be great! Charlie loves the aquarium. Should I meet you there?”
“No. We’ll pick you up. Is nine OK?”
“Sure. I don’t have any big plans tonight.”
“No hot date?”
“No hot date. Believe me, you’ll be the first to know when I do.”
“OK, see you tomorrow.”
“See you.”
I hang up and feel a bit better. I know Jules worries about me—my whole family does. They used to check in constantly, but at least that’s somewhat subsided. I love my family, and I’m grateful to be close to them again, but sometimes I need my distance.