“Lexington,” I answered.
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but I’m looking for the model release forms from the new campaign and I can’t seem to find them.”
“Janet has them.”
“I thought so too, but she says she hasn’t seen them yet either. Since you were the one working with the model, I thought you might.” Jimi sounded slightly more stressed than usual, uncomfortable as always when paperwork wasn’t in perfect order.
“I didn’t work with that model,” I told him with a frown. “Janet ran that whole campaign, I just signed off on it.”
“I hate to argue with you, sir, but you posed with the model and nobody but Carson has any records of it at all.” Jimi was beginning to get irritated, and I took a deep breath to break the impending feedback loop of frustration.
“Which campaign are we talking about, exactly?” I asked.
“The new one, the one that went live this morning.”
“Nothing was scheduled for this morning,” I said, hurrying to my computer to double-check what I was already certain of. “I have nothing on my calendar at all.”
“Well scheduled or not, it’s live, and I do not have a model release!” Jimi was beginning to panic, and I wasn’t far behind.
“All right, take a breath, I’m on my way down.”
I hung up, sparing a millisecond to see if Rhona had responded before shoving the phone in my pocket and hurrying to the elevator.
“Stay off my laptop,” I told Josh as the doors slid open for me. “I’ll be back in an hour, and I will know if you touch it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Josh said with lazy wave of his hand.
I don’t know why I put up with him sometimes. I guess if you’re friends with someone for a couple decades, they sort of become family; in the irritating ‘I can’t stand you, but I understand you’ kind of way. I managed to shake off my irritation and bury my frustration with the Rhona situation by the time I got down to the legal department and buzzed myself in.
I found Jimi standing in the middle of his office, surrounded by stacks of paper with his phone in one hand and a tablet in the other, his thick black hair standing up on end from what must have been hours of frantic finger-raking. He glared at me through his glasses as I came in.
“I understand you’re the owner and everything, Blake, but there are rules to doing these things! We’ve gone this long without a lawsuit of any kind, you can’t just expect that to last if you don’t follow protocol!”
“Save the lecture till I know what you’re talking about,” I snapped.
“I’m talking about this!” Jimi turned the tablet over and tossed it to me a little harder than necessary, his voice cracking with panic on the last syllable. Catching it deftly, I turned on the screen to find Rhona’s sweet face looking back at me.
“This didn’t launch,” I said, unwilling to believe it.
“It did.”
“No, you don’t understand, this couldn’t have launched!”
Panic rising, I called every department head who had anything at all to do with advertising. After getting nowhere for several hours, I was finally put in touch with the photographer who had taken the pictures.
“Carson! What did you do with the photos?” I asked frantically.
“Which photos?”
“The ones of me on those two dates. What did you do with them?”
“I turned them in, man.”
“To who?”
“You guys and AdFast. You said they’d be handling this, right?”
“Yes, but not until everything was cleared on my end! Who did you talk to at AdFast?”
“Uh… A woman named Patty Shade.”
“Thanks.”
I hung up with Carson, pulled up the number I needed, and called.
“Patty Shade, how can I help you?”
“Ms. Shade, this is Blake Lexington.”
“Oh my God! Mr. Lexington, it’s so good to hear from you! Did you like the campaign? When I saw your name I told myself, Patty, this is top priority! My team worked overtime to get the ads out ASAP; aren’t they wonderful? They all deserve a raise; I think I’ll put in for one. How can I help you today? Do you have another campaign?”
“No!” Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Ms. Shade, that campaign wasn’t supposed to launch yet. Didn’t you notice that you were missing several vital forms?”
“Oh, that. Well, yes, but I figured if it was on my desk, then legal must have already seen them and cleared them.”
“You didn’t bother to check?”
“Ah… To be honest, Mr. Lexington, I was so excited to be working for you that I just got started…”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Ah…”
“Let me speak to your boss.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lexington, but he’s gone home for the day and—”
“His home number, please.”
“I’m not permitted to give that out.”
Patty was in full ass-covering mode. I took a deep breath, forcibly calming my temper.
“Ms. Shade, are the ads already publicly displayed?”
“They are.”
“Can you get them pulled immediately?”
“Uh… Not without a replacement, Mr. Lexington. The terms of your contract…”
“Who signed that?!”
“It, ah… It says here that you did, last year? We started with the Made in Heaven campaign, and the terms of your contract state that no campaign will be pulled without a replacement, as you have rented our ad space on a permanent basis for a full twenty-four-month term.”
Seemed like a good idea at the time. I groaned internally, cursing myself for trying to be efficient.
“Can you put the last campaign back up in its place?”
“Not without my boss’s approval, I’m afraid.”
“Then you’d better get it, and get it quickly. And next time, Patty?”
“Er… Yes, sir?”
“Try getting your boss’s approval before the disaster.”
“Ah… Yes, sir, I’m very sorry, sir. Let me see what I can do to fix this. I’m very sorry.”
“Call me when you have good news.”
“Yes, sir.”
I needed to go for a walk. Checking my phone, I saw that Rhona still hadn’t responded, but now I understood.
As I stepped outside, the evidence was clear; there, hovering in the sky over the freeway, was the billboard. On one side, the strip of photos from the photo booth of our very first date. On the other side, the photos from our second second date six years later. Of course she made the connection, and of course she surmised that I had used her to promote my business. It looked absolutely terrible, and I needed to explain.
I dialed her number, rehearsing what I would say in my head. It rang once, then a cold, robotic voice broke my heart in two.
The person you have dialed is not accepting calls from this number.
“Of course she isn’t.” I swore under my breath and walked a little faster. I could fix this, right? I fixed it once, I was sure I could fix it again…but then her last message burned like fire across my brain.
No more second chances.
Chapter 13
Blake
“Dude, rough break,” Josh said, pouring himself a drink. “I mean, I think any woman would flip out about that. But a virgin? Whew.”
“Would you get off of that? She’s not even a virgin anymore, and it should never have mattered in the first place.” I glared out my penthouse window overlooking the city, and caught Josh’s dubious expression in the reflection.
“Okay, Mr. Progressive, if the virginity doesn’t matter, then… Okay, so I’ve seen the pictures, and she’s cute and everything, but she’s no supermodel.”
“From sexual purity to looks, man, you are just one big ball of stereotype, aren’t you?”
“Don’t take it out on me, dude. You’re the one who screwed this up.”
“No, that damn Carson and his cohort Patty screwed this up,” I countered angrily.
“Uh-huh. Who told Carson to take the pictures?”
I ground my teeth. “Obviously, I did, but…”
“And did you happen to tell your date that you had hired a photographer with the intention of launching a campaign?”
“I didn’t know for sure that I would be launching the campaign,” I argued. “Well, I mean, I knew I’d be launching some kind of campaign with me using my own app, it just seemed like the best way to give it some legitimacy, but I didn’t know it would go down like this.”
“Okay, but the point is, if you hadn’t had that brilliant idea, none of this ever would have happened.”
I glowered into my drink, then indulged in a swallow. “Fine. It was all my fault, and now I have to fix it.”
“Good luck.”
“I don’t need luck, damn it. I need an idea!”
“Here’s an idea for you: let it go. She’s too much trouble. She’s probably halfway to Iceland right now, and once she’s there she’s going to get a taste of feminist utopia and she’s never going to want to leave anyway. Why bother?”
“Because she’s perfect,” I said.
“Nobody’s perfect,” he scoffed. “If you go running across the globe after somebody perfect, you’re going to be disappointed, because she isn’t. And if she was perfect she wouldn’t be with you because you aren’t, so try again.”
I glanced at him thoughtfully. “Where did you stumble across that kind of intelligence?” I asked.
“Never had to waste my time working,” he said with a shrug. “Had a whole lifetime to do nothing but get disappointed by people.”
“Cynic.”
“Realist.”
“Fine. She isn’t perfect. She’s timid and too trusting of everybody but herself. She wants to be told what to do, even if she knows what she wants. She asks permission to take up space, and gets flustered easily, but when she gets angry her first instinct is to cut the person who made her mad out completely. She blocked my number the first time, too. You cross that line with her, it’s all over. No chance to redeem yourself or apologize or explain, just silence.”
“There. Good to know that you can see it. So with all that being said, there’s really no point in going after her, is there?”
I thought about it for a long moment, then a slow grin spread over my face.
“You’re wrong,” I told him. “That’s exactly why there is a point in going after her. She’s an impossible challenge, and the rewards… Man, a sultan with a magic lamp couldn’t do better.”
“That good? Really?”
“Better. Not just the sex. Don’t get me wrong—she’s the best I’ve ever had—but everything else about her. The way she gets excited about things that other people don’t. The way her eyes light up when she’s talking about something she loves. Her dedication to everything she’s passionate about. That’s what it is, Josh. That, right there.”
“Her luminescent eyes?”
“No, you idiot. Her passion. I’ve never met anyone as unabashedly passionate as Rhona, and I am not going to live my life knowing that I could have been one of her passions and I threw it away.”
Josh sighed and flopped on the couch, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink.
“Well, then, Romeo, how are you gonna win her back?”
I looked at him, surprised, and he shrugged with a wry smile. “I know when I’m beat. You’re in love. God knows why you let yourself get in that condition, but there’s nothing to do about it now. Sit down. We’ll strategize.”
Elated, I grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around!”
The very next morning, I called Rhona’s office, only to be told that she had been transferred to Iceland already.
“I see,” I said, trying to conceal the disappointment in my voice while thinking up the best way to proceed. “Unfortunately, Ms.…?”
“Edwards.”
“Unfortunately, Ms. Edwards, Rhona Campbell was working on a project for me, and I don’t seem to have the necessary files here. Could you provide me with her new contact information, please?”
“Oh, dear. She did leave in a bit of a hurry. Let me see if I can get that for you. I’m so sorry. Hold, please.”
I drummed my fingers on my desk, hoping that the ploy would hold just enough weight to get me a phone number.
“Sir? I have that number for you, as well as her email and office address. Did you need anything else?”
“Does she have a residential address yet? My project was of a rather sensitive nature, and we were avoiding office mail carts, you understand.”
“Um… I apologize for asking, but could you prove that you knew her address while she was living stateside? I wouldn’t want to give that out otherwise, for safety reasons.”
“Oh, of course. Her address here was 4678 Starlight Lane, apartment 42C.”
“Thank you, sir, and could I get your name?”
Screw it, why not?
“Blake Lexington.”
A beat of silence from the other end twisted my gut. Come on, lady, we’ve come this far…
“Blake Lexington,” she repeated crisply. “Very well. Are you ready for that contact info?”
“I am.”
She read it out to me, office, email, phone number and apartment address, and I wrote it down gratefully, trying very hard not to whoop out loud.
“Thank you very much, Ms. Edwards.”
“You’re welcome. And if you have any more questions later, you can reach me directly at extension 226, or you can ask for me by name. That’s Nina Edwards, extension 226.”
“Thank you so much, Nina, I appreciate it. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone gently, then leaped out of my chair and onto my desk, shouting victoriously as I raised my fists high.
“Touchdown, I take it?” Josh asked with a lazy grin.
“Touchdown. Thank God for lax security. Shut up, I’m calling her.”
“Right now? What time is it in Iceland?”
“Let’s see… Nine A.M. plus seven is…”
“You should write an app for that.”
“Shut up. It’s four in the afternoon.”
“You want to at least wait till she’s home?”
“No. I want to leave her a message.”
“You do you, man.” Josh shrugged, but beneath his relaxed demeanor, I could see excitement running like a live wire. He had become as invested in this as I was, reminding me again why I kept him around.
The phone rang four times, then clicked over to an answering machine.
“Rhona, this is Blake. I have no intention of badgering you into talking to me, but I needed to speak to you at least once more.” I took a deep breath, turning my back to Josh, who was grinning like an idiot. “But I promise, this will be the last message I leave you. I understand why you left, and I’m sorry. It was never supposed to happen that way. If you’ll just give me the chance, I can explain everything. I’m so sorry, Rhona.”
Chapter 14
Rhona
Three Months Later
“No, no, I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear before, but you never launch a campaign before each of these criteria have been met. Even though it’s just a three-second video, we still need every authorization in order before launch. Cancel this, please, and call downstairs to legal, make sure their ducks are in a row… I’m sorry, I keep forgetting to edit sayings like that before I talk… Make sure that legal has everything they need to have, all right? Then I will sign off on this.”
“Yes ma’am, I apologize,” the young woman said stiffly as she backed out of my office.
“It’s all right,” I promised her. “We just want to avoid scandals, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She granted me a very slight smile, then left my office, shutting the door behind her. I sighed, leaning back in my chair.
Every time I talked to a subordinate, I felt like an o
gre. Every time I talked to a peer, I felt like an interloper. It had been clear from the first moment I started at this office that many people felt strongly that an existing Icelandic employee should have been allowed to advance into my position. The problem was, I didn’t entirely disagree with them. I knew advertising, I knew the internet, but I didn’t know Iceland and it had been an uphill battle trying to learn it.
Not that my coworkers were unfriendly or anything, but the dynamic was so different from what I was used to. I came to this country appearing to be a successful, confident, businesswoman intent on taking the company by storm. Which was exactly the image I wanted to present, but it wasn’t one I was prepared to maintain.
I had yet to find a friend who acknowledged my weaknesses. I hadn’t realized just how important that had been to me, and for the first few months, I had pestered Nina and Sara endlessly trying to keep hold of that sort of mothering that I was ashamed to admit that I needed. That hadn’t lasted very long; not because they rejected me—they hadn’t—but because there was no good way to do it. They weren’t here, they didn’t know the people or the culture or the language any better than I did, and all of their advice came from a place of well-intentioned ignorance. This was something I was going to have to do myself, and though it had terrified me at first, I was slowly becoming accustomed to trusting my own instincts.
Katrin tapped on my door as she opened it.
“The managers are going out for drinks tonight. Would you like to join us?”
Though the thought of navigating a social function filled me with dread, I accepted quickly. Loneliness had been weighing me down while homesickness snapped at my heels, and if I had to spend one more night alone in my apartment, I was going to lose my mind. “I’d love to. Where are we going?”
“Sheep’s Head,” she told me with a wicked grin. “We’ll have some dinner first.”
“Wonderful,” I said weakly.
I had tried. In my apartment, without an audience, I had attempted to eat some of the more dubious local delicacies. Not just once, but again and again; but it was useless. I was never going to be able to stomach sheep’s head or fermented shark or blood pudding… The puffin wasn’t bad, but I couldn’t very well assume that everybody would be ordering it. Maybe I would just show up a little late.
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