by Glazer, J B
“It’s nice that you guys are so close in age. Were you friends growing up?”
“Yeah, Jake was always cool,” says Nick, “although we’re closer now that we’re older.”
“How old?” I’ve always been curious to know Jake’s age.
“I’m twenty-six,” says Nick.
The waitress brings our drinks, and then I turn my attention back to Nick. “So what do you do?” I ask him.
“I have my own computer consulting company. We do support, repair, network design, installation—that sort of thing—for small and medium-size businesses.”
“Wow. How did you get into that?”
“I went to MIT and helped out at the computer lab there. After I graduated I decided I didn’t want to work for someone else. By the way, if you need help getting anything hooked up, you can call me,” he says, handing me a business card.
“Thanks. Your parents must be so disappointed. Clearly you’re a couple of slackers,” I tease.
“Actually all my parents want is for one of us to get married so they can have grandchildren,” says Nick.
“I take it you’re not married?”
“Nope, but I’m thinking of proposing to my girlfriend.”
“Oh, that’s so exciting! When are you going to do it?”
“Soon. She just got a job offer in Boston. So I’m thinking I’ll propose then move there with her.”
“It’s great that you’re willing to relocate for her.”
“I’m not sure it’ll happen, because she’s interviewing here too, but I can take my business anywhere. What about you? Would you move for the right person?”
“Been there, done that.”
“Sorry,” he says.
“That’s OK. It was the right decision at the time. But I don’t think I’d do it again.” I feel Jake’s eyes on me as we’re talking. “Anyway, how are you going to propose?”
“I don’t know. I have a few ideas. I just feel like everyone places so much emphasis on the engagement. It’s a lot of hype to live up to.”
“Don’t worry about what everyone else thinks. Do what you think would make her happy. What are your ideas?”
“Well, I was thinking of taking her to dinner and putting the ring in the dessert.”
“Cliché,” says Jake.
“What else?” I prod.
“I was going to decorate our apartment with rose petals and candles.”
“That’s romantic,” I tell him, trying not to think of Ben’s proposal.
“What do you think?” he asks me.
“Well, you could take her back to the place where you went on your first date or somewhere else that has meaning to you both.”
His eyes light up. “We met at a wine shop.”
“Well, you could tell her you’re going to a party and stop there on the way to pick up a bottle of wine. You could have a special label printed, or you could bring the wine to a restaurant.”
Nick seems excited about the idea. “Thanks, Lexi. I can work with that. Apparently Jake here isn’t going to deliver, so the pressure’s on me to carry on the Hartman name.”
He gave me the opening I’ve been waiting for. “You aren’t dating anyone then?”
“Nah, no one special,” says Jake.
“He’s a serial dater,” Nick informs me. “Most girls don’t make it past two dates. Except what’s her name…Ashley,” he says. “Is she the one with the great—”
“Nick,” Jake says in a warning tone, “that’s enough.”
Damn, I wanted to hear more about Ashley.
“So what about you?” Nicks asks. “A pretty girl like you must have a boyfriend.”
I turn red with embarrassment. “Nope, I’m not seeing anyone seriously. I just got out of a long-term relationship,” I add, feeling the need to justify myself. The waitress arrives with our bill. Jake tries to intercept it, but I don’t let him. “It’s my treat,” I say firmly. “You both did me a huge favor.”
“All right,” Jake says grudgingly. “But just this one time.”
I hope that means there’ll be a next time.
The following week I receive an e-mail from Jake saying that Morgan has approved my involvement in the pitch as long as it doesn’t conflict with my Lumineux responsibilities. I assure him I can balance both, but if it becomes an issue, I’ll definitely let them know. I don’t hear back, but I receive an invite to the briefing for the following day, so I assume everything is fine. I’m excited to be working on the pitch. There’s an energy that comes with the challenge of putting forth your absolute best work. While I’ve worked in beauty, I’ve never worked on a fragrance account. It’s a more risqué category, so I’m interested to see how the creative team will push the boundaries. Plus I’ll get to work with Jake. I send my team an e-mail to let them know that I’ll be helping with the pitch but reassure them Lumineux is my priority. Michelle writes back that she’s always wanted to work on a pitch, and if we need any support, she’s happy to help. I tell her I’ll keep that in mind and let Jake know as well; I’m sure he’s always looking for willing volunteers.
I attend the briefing the following morning. Jake makes introductions then talks about who else we’re pitching against, the strengths they’ll play up, and where he sees the biggest opportunities. Everyone is listening with rapt attention. I love seeing him in action; he knows how to command a room. Then he turns the briefing over to Nigel, the planner I met in Morgan’s office. As Nigel’s talking, I read ahead and am pleased to note that most of the comments I shared with Jake are accounted for.
When Nigel gets to the deliverables section, Jake interjects. “For the first creative review, I want to see how your ideas translate in print only.” Mark, one of the art directors, asks why they can’t focus on the TV spot. “Print will better showcase the viability of the idea. You can think through what the spot will be, but if your idea can’t translate to print, we’ll have a problem. You shouldn’t need to rely on a spot to sell your idea.”
“Should we bring storyboards to the meeting to share after the print ads?” Mark asks.
“No, but you can develop storyboards once we align on a direction so you won’t waste your time on ideas that may not end up in front of the client.”
Simon speaks up. “It’s the right approach. It’ll make sure only the strongest ideas survive. If we find we can’t articulate the idea succinctly in print, it’s not a big idea—it’s a spot.”
Mark relents, and Nigel finishes going through the brief. Simon then assigns three different creative teams to work on the project. There’s nothing like a little friendly competition to up the stakes. “OK then,” says Jake. “The first review is a week from today.”
I want to tell him I thought the meeting went well, but Mark beats me to it. I take my time gathering my things while he and Jake are immersed in conversation. Looks like I’m not his only admirer.
Later that afternoon I stop by Jake’s office. He’s on a call and seems irritated. I’m about to walk away, but he gestures for me to come in. “Thanks for your interest. Feel free to get in touch if things change.” He hangs up and says to me, “That was a waste of time.” I look at him questioningly. “I got a call from a potential client, but they have no budget and essentially wanted us to work for free.”
“Seems like a good deal to me,” I joke. “I stopped by to tell you Michelle expressed interest in helping with the pitch.”
“Oh, I didn’t know she had a desire to work on new business.”
“I didn’t either. I told her I’d mention it to you in case you need extra help now or with any projects down the line.”
“Do you think she’d be valuable on this pitch?”
“She probably could help with the competitive analysis,” I tell him. “I can have her pull work for our key competitors and map out the various territories they’re playing in. It might help us identify whether any white-space opportunities exist.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“Do you want me to have her talk to you?”
“No. You can engage her as you see fit. There’s no need for me to get involved. But I’ll definitely keep her in mind for future assignments.”
“OK, sounds good.”
“How do you think the briefing went?” Jake asks.
“I think it went well. I really liked your approach with focusing on print first. It’s a good way to evaluate the work.”
“Thanks.” I’m about to leave, but he changes the subject. “So how’s your new place?”
“It’s good. I was nervous about living by myself, but so far things are fine. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have a roommate.”
“Well, if you need any help getting your computer hooked up, I can ask Nick.”
“Thanks, but I don’t have a personal computer.”
He looks at me, surprised. “I would have pegged you to be up on the latest technology.”
“I have my work laptop. If I ever need access to a computer, I can bring it home.”
He looks from me to my dated BlackBerry and says, “So you have no computer, and your smartphone basically can’t surf the Internet.”
“It can, sort of.”
“You should at least get an iPhone.”
“I know, and believe me, I want one, but I need an actual keyboard. I don’t know how you can type on that thing.”
“What about an iPad?” he suggests. “At least the keys are bigger.”
“I’d like an iPad. I guess I just haven’t seen the need to buy one. I feel like technology is replacing so many things in our lives—like books, for instance. I’d never get an e-reader.”
“Why not? You wouldn’t have to lug books around. Plus it’s greener. What do you do with your books when you’re done with them?”
“I keep them in case I want to read them again.”
“And do you?”
“Well, no, but there’s something appealing about physically turning the pages. It wouldn’t be the same experience on a screen.”
“Trust me, if you read a book on one, you won’t want to go back.”
We’re interrupted by Joann buzzing Jake to let him know he’s expected at a meeting.
“Thanks for the chat. It was enlightening,” he says. “See ya, Wilma.”
It takes me a minute to realize what he meant. I think he just called me Wilma Flintstone. Now that’s a first.
Friday is a hectic day of back-to-back meetings. I’m about to head out to lunch when my cell phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize, and I debate letting it go to voice mail. I decide to answer, and I’m glad I do. It’s Jason calling to ask me if I’ll help him pick out a ring for Liv.
“Absolutely! I’d be honored to help. When do you want to go the jeweler’s?”
“Is tomorrow OK?” he asks somewhat sheepishly.
“Tomorrow’s fine.”
“Sorry it’s last minute. I wanted to do it on my own, but I’m freaking out because Liv is so particular.”
“Don’t worry. I know exactly what she wants.”
“I figured you would,” he says with a laugh. “Can I pick you up at ten?”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
I can hardly contain my excitement the rest of the day. I’m seeing Liv tomorrow night, and I pray she doesn’t call me to make lunch plans.
Jason is downstairs promptly at ten the next morning.
“How was the commute?” I joke, assuming he slept at Liv’s.
He laughs. “The commute was easy. It was getting out of there early that was tough.”
“Where does Liv think you’re going?”
“To play basketball with the guys.”
“I see you planned ahead,” I say, taking in his workout attire.
“I am playing basketball, just not until later.”
On the ride over, I ask him if he knows how he’s going to propose. We’ve talked about it in the past, but he’s never been happy with any of the ideas he’s come up with. He excitedly tells me his plan.
“On the day she throws a quiz for her class, I’m going to include my own version. It’ll be full of questions about my feelings for her—things like ‘When did Jason know Liv was the one?’ and ‘What’s Jason’s favorite quality about Liv?’ That sort of thing. The last question will be ‘Will you marry me?’ I’ve already worked it out with one of her coworkers. She’s going to slip it into Liv’s grading pile.”
“Jason, that’s a brilliant idea. Liv will love it!”
“I know,” he says, beaming. “She’s been suspicious every time we’ve gone out lately. I want to do something that’ll really throw her off. She does most of her grading after school, so I’ll have to take off work early so I can be there. I guess I’ll hide out in the hallway.”
I laugh, picturing him nervously pacing the halls. “I wish there was a way you could film it. I know she’d love to see it later…and me too.”
“You know, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll look into it.”
When we arrive at the jeweler’s, Jason shows me the setting he has in mind. It’s actually close to what Liv wants, but I make a few suggestions. He then chooses a beautiful princess-cut stone. The jeweler starts to talk about clarity and carat sizes, so I conveniently glance around the shop so they can discuss the details in private. Jason motions me back over and says he wants me to see how it looks put together. The jeweler places the stone on the platinum ring, which is set high with a tapered baguette on either side. Jason asks me to try it on so he can see how it looks. I usually see that as bad luck, but I figure I’ve already had one broken engagement. What harm could it do? I slip the ring on my finger and admire it.
“It’s perfect,” I tell him. “When are you going to propose?”
“In the next few weeks. I’ve got to get my act together and write the quiz. Then I need to time it with when Liv actually gives one to the class.”
“I can’t wait! You guys are a great couple,” I tell him sincerely.
“Thanks. I’m glad she has a friend like you. You’re one in a million, Lexi Winters.”
That evening my friends and I are headed to a hot new lounge called Blu. I’m wearing a gunmetal-gray, one-shoulder jersey mini dress with subtle embellished details at the shoulder. I pair it with sky-high-stiletto, peep-toe, black-patent-leather pumps and a Michael Kors metallic leather clutch. I flat-iron my hair pin straight then shake it out by the roots to give it some volume. Once I’m ready, I knock on Liv’s door.
She takes one look at me and says, “You look hot! Ugh, I need to change.”
“You look great. You know I love that tank. I’d maybe pair it with your black mini instead. It’ll dress it up a bit.”
She puts the skirt on and says, “I wouldn’t have thought to wear the two together, but you’re right, much better.”
We head downstairs, and I text Jill and Melanie that we’re on our way. When our cab pulls up to the club, there’s already a line out the door. We wait about ten minutes, and then Jill and Melanie arrive. I motion for them to come over. Jill holds up her finger in a “one-minute” gesture and walks up to the bouncer. She flirts her way to a spot at the front of the line. We walk in, and I’m amazed. The ambiance is very cool—the perfect blend of lounge meets club. Long leather benches are interspersed throughout the floor. Pendant lights of various lengths hang above, casting a soft, warm glow in the dimly lit room. There’s a high dome ceiling lined with horizontal glass tubes creating an accordion affect. The walls are concave and made out of a waved textured material, giving the appearance that we’re in a fishbowl. But the bar is the main attraction. Blue pendant lights hang above, giving the bar a bluish cast. Behind it are two wide floor-to-ceiling acrylic tubes that house an aquarium filled with large blue fish. In the center are white glass panels that also go up to the ceiling with niches that house various-colored backlit bottles. The whole place has a swanky, chic vibe.
After checking out the main level, we walk upstairs to the
rooftop deck. The bouncer tells us it’s closed because they’re preparing for a private event. I’m bummed; it’s a beautiful night, and I would have loved to hang out up here. We head back downstairs and chat by the bar for a while. I turn to my friends. “I have to use the restroom,” I tell them. “I’ll be right back.” I find my way, but there’s a long line. The girl in front of me says there are more washrooms downstairs, so I follow her. We walk down a long hallway lined with portholes that house abstract art. The restrooms are straight ahead, but I notice another doorway to my right, which I assume is the VIP lounge because it’s roped off. I glance inside and spot a group of good-looking guys. Upon closer inspection, I see that one of them is Jake. He’s engaged in a conversation with a very pretty blonde and doesn’t see me. He looks super cute in a black sport coat with a fitted black-and-gray crewneck shirt underneath, along with dark jeans. I feel my face redden; he always has this effect on me. I decide not to interrupt him and get in line for the bathroom. I thought I’d escaped the line by coming down here, but apparently everyone else had the same idea.
A few minutes later someone behind me says, “Come here often?” I recognize the voice as Jake’s.
I turn around. “Hey, I saw you earlier and was going to come say hi.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Well, I’m not a VIP. Plus you were engrossed in a conversation.”
“Oh,” he says. “You’re a VIP in my book.”
“Such a smooth talker,” I tease.
“Who are you here with?”
“Liv and some other friends of mine from high school. You?”
“A few buddies from college. One of them actually owns this place.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he always wanted to own a bar.”
“I love the ambiance. It’s so different from most clubs I’ve been to and has a really cool vibe.”
“You want a tour?” he asks me.
“I’d love one,” I say just as it’s my turn in line. “Can you give me a minute?”
“Sure. Would you like me to hold your drink?”
“I don’t know. Are you trustworthy?”