by Jolie Day
“Nope. That’s it. Ooookay, thanks.” She turned and walked back to her door, “Night, Miles.”
“Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. Be sure to stroke Miss Muffin Patch tonight.” I watched her shaking her head as she unlocked her door.
15
ROSE
Several days later
I woke up feeling positive. It was a Friday, and I’d be moving to Miles’ place tomorrow. Even if Miles was usually a dick of a man, I’d been able to connect with him on a personal level the last few days, and I felt slightly better about having to live with him. I was glad we hadn’t kissed at the pier the evening he took me out riding on his bike. I wanted to, of course. Like crazy. But it would have made things awkward, no matter how much I’d wanted it.
Ever since, he hadn’t attempted another kiss, and I took that as a good sign. He respected the invisible border I put up, and I liked that he did. In fact, I thought that it was sexy that he didn’t push it. He seemed more human to me now that I knew that he had a softer, deeper side to him.
So, this is it. This was my last day of freedom.
Starting tomorrow, I had to live up to my contract and pretend to be a taken woman.
Not that it was a major deal. I hadn’t exactly been actively dating or anything before. But, Juliette had insisted that we go out tonight to drink in honor of my “last night of being a free woman”—for six months, and three months after that at least. To her, that seemed like a lifetime.
However, I’d be seeing her before our ladies night—here at my work.
Because I had a pretty neat plan.
I’d finally come up with the basic idea for the campaign for the new makeup line, and handed over my concept. Today, I would begin proving just how this new idea worked. I’d had the spark the other night after talking with Miles about my “obligation” to attend the elite events of NYC. It hit me like a freight train! Why not use one or more of my connections to my advantage? So, I’d called Juliette, and she agreed—reluctantly at first—to be my first model. Not because she was shy, she was not, just because Juliette had never considered herself a classic beauty or someone who could present makeup. Juliette was an active New York City socialite. I never favored that expression or the idea of being seen as one myself, but it was what it was, like it or not. Like some of the “elite” crowd that I’d grown up around, Juliette had gained quite a few followers on social media, and most of them looked to socialites, such as her, for fashion cues.
The idea was that we’d use girls like her—up and comers, but nobody really famous yet, instead of professional models, or anyone that you would consider “perfect” in the fashion industry—to showcase the makeup. I loved the idea that they were people of different sizes, cultures and sexual orientations, which would make the campaign more relatable. Since the makeup line was organic vegan, which I also adored, we’d connect it with a “one palette—one tree” idea. We’d donate a percentage of the revenue to plant trees. I hoped the idea would not only make the campaign interesting and exciting, but would also combine it with a Zeitgeist aspect. We’d use social influence for something bigger than ourselves, and not just for all the aspiring young people out there who followed influencers. We’d post the pictures we took and create a hashtag or two, and then go with the one that flew better. The socialites would be asked to share them on their personal pages as well as across all social media platforms. Hopefully, this would prove successful and gain lots of shares.
I walked into the office building feeling confident.
Of course, I was dressed for the occasion. I had on a long and sleek forest-green jumpsuit that came in at the middle, accentuating my waist. The legs were long and flowing, while the bodice was a halter neck. I’d done my hair in soft flowing curls today, wanting to look less professional and more fun, to suit the theme of the photo shoot.
As soon as I was in my office, I called our art director and media team lead to make sure that everything was still on track for today’s shoot.
Not too long afterwards, Juliette walked into my office.
She was a beautiful woman, but not your professional model “thin and flawless” type of beautiful. She had a natural beauty with natural curves to back it up. In this day and age, advertising needed to be relatable to the consumers. If we wanted them to buy our products, we needed to speak to them—people came in all varieties, not just skinny and flawless. Juliette was perfect to kick off the campaign. Her naturally blonde hair and curvier body, combined with her obvious confidence and energy put her at the top of my list. We’d be launching our campaign by showing potential customers a woman who was similar to them, and who wasn’t ashamed of herself—in fact, who loved herself.
“Hey there, Rosey!” Juliette strode into my office and kissed both my cheeks.
“Jules, thanks so much again for helping me with this. I really appreciate your jumping in at such relatively short notice.” I sat on the edge of my desk, and she took a seat in the visitors’ chair.
“No problem. I’ve been telling people for years that I’d be a great role model for,” she winked at me and paused, for dramatic effect, “well, for anything!” she finished with a flashy confident smile. She’d come prepped and ready for the shoot, no doubt. “Plus, I’ll try new organic makeup anytime, especially when it comes from my bestie.”
“I knew you were the one as soon as I had the final idea,” I said. “Just be you, and it’ll be perfect.”
“Well, it’s been pretty fab until now being me.” Juliette smiled broadly to take any smugness out of her words. “I’d fight my way through an entire room-full of Ryan Gosling lookalikes to get to that one girl who needs my help,” she continued. “And if it involves make-up, well, all the better.”
I laughed at her imagery.
Her face became false-serious in an instant. “Do I get samples as well?”
“Of course. You’re the talent in the room today.”
We were still laughing together, when the makeup artist came in to let us know she’s ready.
A few hours later, and with her makeup finished, Juliette was perched on a stool with a mirror alongside her. The art director and I’d chatted with the photographer beforehand, but I wanted to be here to make sure we got all the right shots. I know, I know. I wasn’t usually a micromanager. Nobody liked a control freak on set, and I knew from experience that empowering people, by giving them a say, brought out the best in them. Maybe I was holding on to this project a little more tightly than I usually would have, because of how “floaty” things were in my personal life.
“Okay, just as a reminder, we need this to be a relatable image of the makeup palette.” The art director spoke to the room in general so that everyone was the same page, and I gave him an approving nod. “Since it will be social-media-based and not in magazines, it should look natural,” he added.
“So Jules,” I said. “I’d love it if you can give us a pure and genuine facial expression.”
“I don’t have any other kind,” she replied. “Just tell me what you want, and I will see if I can pull it out of my emotional briefcase.” Juliette made a motion as if she was picking up an invisible briefcase from beside her on the floor, and for a moment everyone in the room held their breath as her stool tipped onto three legs and definitely wobbled. Juliette seemed not to notice, and the breaths were released as she sat back up, placed her “briefcase” on her knee, cracked it open, and looked up expectantly.
“Look at me so it doesn’t seem staged,” the photographer instructed with a smile. “Rather like an in-action type of shot. Focus on you, not the camera. Better. There we go. Good!”
I walked around the photographer as he did his work.
“Okay, how about we try one with you looking into the mirror, fixing your lipstick,” he suggested. “As if you’re still at home, preparing to go out.”
Juliette did a fantastic job. She was a natural. Being a seasoned social media connoisseur, she knew exactly what was expected. She offered v
ariety, and even threw in her own ideas and did things out of the ordinary. Such as not smiling at all or placing a hand above her eye, and peeking through. She felt comfortable on the shoot, just as she did in her own photos.
Once we had enough pictures to work with, I said goodbye to everybody on set and hurried back to my office, but not before kissing Juliette on her cheeks.
“So when will I get to see the end result in Insta and that?” Juliette asked excitedly.
“Oh, not for a few months at least,” I told her. “Before Christmas for sure.”
“What? Why so long?”
“Well, a lot of planning goes into it. It’s a whole process, from editing the photos to the first layout ideas, to developing the whole ad campaign with our advertising department. Then, I have to present it to my boss and get everything approved from the higher up.” I leaned forward and lowered my voice so only she could hear me. “My boss is pretty strict. He’s the biggest hurdle. He can be ‘difficult.’” I made quote fingers. Jules nodded and gave me an “Oh, trust me, I know all about idiot bigwigs” expression back, and I continued in my normal voice. “Then, finally, we’re ready to go. Remember, we’re planning to use other people for the campaign, too, but before we jump into all that, we have to get the idea approved. With the pics we took today—no worries, I’m sure they’re going to love you,” I added as Juliette’s eyes grew big. “We’re off to a better start than I could have hoped for. And don’t forget also booking ad placements for both the US and UK markets. It always takes time.” I smiled at her, shrugging my shoulders.
“Ooooh the UK! Will they need you over there?”
“Maybe…hopefully. We have to get the idea approved first.”
“Oh, all right then. I’ll have to wait.”
“I’ll see you later, all right, Jules?” I said with a quick hug.
“Yes. Text me when you’re done.”
“Can’t wait!”
I felt invigorated. No matter what was happening in my own life, at least my work inspired me, and I loved it. After weeks of stressing over this campaign, we finally had something with potential. It felt right. The images had come out perfectly. We were planning to focus on each of the other candidates I’d chosen individually and to plan the shoots around their personalities, and usual social media posts, allowing us to showcase our entire range of colors as well.
It was already dark out, but I was still sitting at my desk furiously typing and drafting away, to get this campaign on the run and to send the first sketches ready up to our art department. I hit enter, and the first layout was out there, along with the makeup line hashtag: #icanrelate. The second followed within minutes: #onepaletteonetree. And a third one, too. Miles had been so sweet and supportive during the time, always asking questions about the progress and wanting to know how things were going. He even suggested a hashtag: #youaf!
Juliette’s picture reels were stunning. Her blonde hair shone in the light, and, of course, her face looked breathtaking with the new line of makeup applied. She was authentic: confident, positive, and obviously felt great in her own skin. She was feeling happy and loving her life. Perfect.
I stretched my arms out and cracked my back into place again. Even though I felt tired and stiff, a night out with Jules and a few cocktails was exactly what I needed to release the stress I’d felt until getting this concept on the go.
I emailed the drafts to our art director, picked up my phone and texted Juliette.
Rose: Hey, girl.
Rose: I’m finally done.
Rose: Meet me at Swayze’s in 15?
Juliette: GREAT! See you there!
Swayze’s was not too far from my office building. After we arrived, we took a seat at a small, round high table with stools. Only a few minutes later, the waitress, Sadie, brought our first cocktails, and we sighed happily at the marvelous tastes and swapped glasses to try each other’s drinks.
I felt elated about my successful day and was happy to be celebrating it with my BFF.
“So, you move in with Miles tomorrow?” Juliette asked, while swirling her drink with the straw.
I scrunched up my nose. “I wouldn’t call it that… I’m moving into his apartment, yes.” I lowered my forehead into my palm. “I just hope this isn’t a horrible idea, after all. I can act like his fiancée, sure, but the living together part is going to get complicated, I can just feel it.”
“Yeah, I won’t disagree with you there.”
I smiled. “I actually hoped you’d disagree.”
“Oh… Well, but what do I know, I’m still living with Mommy and Daddy.”
I laughed at her playfully acted annoyed glance.
“But really,” she continued, “It’ll most probably get awkward at times. I mean, what would you do, if you, like, walked in on him jerking off or something?” Her face was serious.
I burst into laughter. “No way, Jules. I’m pretty sure I’ll remember to knock.”
“Yeah, good thinking. Never forget. Always knock and wait until he tells you to come in. If it takes longer than usual, you know what’s up.”
“Literally.”
Jules nodded and clinked her glass to mine. We took a swig.
“I’m more worried about,” I started, “you know, this… sexual tension between us. I mean, I’d get it if he wanted to have sex. He’s a man, after all, and used to doing the dirty all the time, but now, he suddenly can’t. You know, because of our arrangement.”
She cracked up. “Think he can’t control himself?”
“I’m going to need to control myself. But no worries, I can do it. I’m a hundred percent sure of my ability to make this work… I’m classier than that. Too classy, in fact.” I ended my argument, sitting up straight like a well-behaved child.
“You’re too classy?” she asked, disbelieving.
“Yep,” I nodded my head.
“You’re too classy for sex?”
“Sure am.”
“Girl. Sure, you’re classy, but no one is too classy for sex. We all need to get our kicks. I still think you should get him out of your system.”
“Na-ah. No way,” I disagreed. “I still think that would make the next six months awkward as hell.”
“But why?”
“Well, imagine he likes it and wants more? Then I’m stuck with a desperate guy I can’t get rid of and a contract I can’t get out of. Thanks, but no thanks. Worst idea ever.”
“What if you both like it and want more?”
“Please. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Okay then,” Juliette said with a “challenge accepted” look on her face. “I think you should get him out of your system by using that guy over there.” She pointed toward the bar. “Danger. Danger. Mommy’s kitty done got lit!”
I turned to see a handsome man by the bar. He was quite tall with wavy blonde hair, and a strong jawline. From what I could see, he had an amazing smile.
“But he looks nothing like Miles!” I said to her, thinking that the man would need to resemble him, at least his hair color, to “get him out of my system,” so to speak.
“So what?”
“Huh?”
“It doesn’t matter! He’s still gorgeous!” Juliette protested.
“He hasn’t got dark hair. He’s not as tall. I bet he hasn’t got any tattoos.”
“He has a cock.”
The guy stood talking to his friend, and his eyes slipped to mine as I was looking at him, visualizing Juliette’s cock comment.
“Oh my God!” I said, turning back quickly. “He saw me looking at him.”
I was definitely already drunk. I hadn’t eaten dinner, and these cocktails were potent.
“Perfect,” Juliette replied.
“No, I mean, not at him…at his cock.”
“Damn girl, even better. Now go talk to him.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, shocked at what she was expecting me to do. I knew this was the twenty-first century and all, but I’d never walked up t
o a guy in a bar before. “No way.”
“Yes way, Rosey,” she exclaimed. “This is your last chance for six months. Go into that contract with a bang. Literally!”
Even though I wanted to laugh, I didn’t have it in me. What I did have in me, was sweat pressing out of the pores covering my palms.
“I’m not sure…,” I said instead, my mind reeling.
“Look at it this way. If you get laid tonight, you’ll have gotten your sexual frustrations out of the way.” Her eyes narrowed at me. “And you know the best part?”
“What?”
“Miles might even see this guy leaving your place in the morning, and then he’ll know—or assume at least—that you aren’t a prude.”
I’d told Juliette that he’d called me prude during one of our heated arguments. And a rude cold shrew. That, and boring. A Times New Roman. It still lay heavily on my soul.
“He’ll think that you’re just picky,” Juliette continued, “and you just don’t intend to sleep with him. Ha! It’s perfect. Result: He’ll back off and give you space. Men and their egos are fragile like that. So, you know, the sexual tension won’t be so bad.”
“Hmm…” I considered it, kind of liking the idea of this guy leaving my apartment and running into Miles. That’ll show him! Boring, my ass. “Well, it’s worth a try, right?” I said.
Building up the courage, I downed the last of my cocktail, stood, and straightened my outfit.
“See ya soon,” I said, all cocky and confident.
“Go get him, girl.”
And I was on my way.
I strode over to the guy with what I hoped looked like confidence. He saw me coming and watched me with a sexy gaze. I could see that his eyes were blue, now. Miles’ eyes were blue too. As I reached him, I leaned against the bar next to him.
“Hi,” I started.
“Hey there.” His voice was low and smooth.
“I noticed you.”
“I noticed you, too.”
I reached out my hand to him. “I’m Rose.”
His eyebrows lifted. “What an appropriate name… Rose, for the only rose among all the thorns in the room.”