by HELEN HARDT
I clamp my hand to my mouth in mock shock.
“I know, I know. I like the club scene. But seriously, Skye, this is fucked up.”
“You don’t have to tell me. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“So am I. And if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to prove what Garrett did to me.”
“Braden’s looking into it,” I say.
“He is?”
“Yeah. He thinks… Well, I don’t have any information, really, but if anyone can figure it out, it’s Braden.”
“Tell him thanks.”
“I will. You okay here?”
She nods. “My mom’s out picking up some stuff at the drug store. She’ll no doubt drive me back to the vodka bottle for the next couple of days while she stays here, but honestly? I’m glad to have her. It’s nice to have parents sometimes.”
I smile. “Yeah, it is.”
And my heart swells a little.
I think I just forgave my mother.
Chapter Forty-Five
“I’m sorry,” I tell Eugenie. “I can’t let you trademark hashtags that I created. I’m not sure hashtags can even be trademarked.”
“They can,” Eugenie says. “Of course we checked with legal first. Hashtags can be trademarked if they serve as an identifier for the company’s goods or services.”
Crap. I really should have talked to Braden about this first, but with everything going on with Tessa, I didn’t have the time.
“That might allow you to trademark susieglow, then, but not simplyskye.”
“Of course we could. You’re working for us.”
I shake my head. “I don’t work solely for you. I need to be able to use my own hashtag for other things.”
“We’re willing to purchase the rights to the hashtags from you,” she says, “for ten thousand dollars each.”
Twenty grand? Maybe I can be bought. I think she hit my price. But…
“I’m sorry. I might be willing to let susieglow go, since I wouldn’t be using it for anything else, but not simplyskye.”
“Simplyskye is a gold mine,” Eugenie says. “We’ve already drawn up the documents regarding both hashtags.”
My stomach churns, and nausea begins to claw its way up my throat. Eugenie doesn’t intimidate me. That’s not what’s going on here. But right now, Susanne is my sole source of income, other than my bakery at home that pays me in hundred-dollar bills and baguettes.
Braden, what would you do?
Maybe it’s not too late. I check my watch. “It’s about lunch time. Do you mind if I mull this over for an hour?”
She nods. “Of course. I already ordered lunch in, but if you need the time, I understand.” She plasters on a smile that seems fake.
She’s pissed off.
She really thought I’d just sign on the dotted line.
And then I know what to do. Not what Braden would tell me to do, but what I know is right for me.
“I changed my mind. I don’t need the hour. I’ll sign over susieglow but not simplyskye.”
“What if we up our bid?”
I shake my head. “Eugenie, I appreciate everything you and everyone else at Susanne has done for my burgeoning career. You all mean the world to me. But I can’t let simplyskye go. If my career continues, I’ll need it.”
In fact, I’ll look into trademarking it myself as soon as I get out of this meeting.
“We’ll have to draw up new documents.” Eugenie frowns.
“I realize that will create extra work for you,” I say, “but I didn’t agree to this over the phone, as you know.”
“Yes, I understand that.” Her jawline stiffens. “Very well. Our lunch will be here soon. After we’re finished eating, we’ll go to the art department and take a look at your new nail color.”
My steak-and-avocado salad tastes like dirt. My appetite flew the coop, but I smile and eat and make small talk with Eugenie and her team. By the time we’re finished, I’m a little less on edge.
A little.
“All right,” Eugenie says. “They’re ready for us in the art department, so let’s go see the new nail color.”
I smile. “I’m excited to see it.”
Her smile seems more genuine this time. Maybe she needed to fill her belly. The dirty martini she had her assistant mix for her probably helped as well.
The art department is at the other end of the floor. Eugenie opens the door and walks in. I follow, along with Louisa and Brian.
A woman approaches us. “Eugenie,” she says. Then to me, “You must be Skye. I’d recognize you anywhere.”
“Yes, hello.”
“I’m Adrienne Ficke, the art director. We’re thrilled to be working with you on the new shade. Come on. Let’s take a look.” She takes my arm and leads me to a conference room. Several bottles of nail polish sit on the table. A projector and screen are set up. “We have three prototypes, and we all love number one the best, but we need to get your input.”
Amazingly, she’s talking more to me than to Eugenie. Eugenie doesn’t seem to mind though. She’s definitely in a better mood. Adrienne begins going through her PowerPoint showing us how they came up with the shades.
“We took your color swatches and chose three shades to work with. Our main objective was to create a pink that could be worn with anything, so we couldn’t go too neon. That’s okay, though, because we already have the neon with the Make Things Happen that you used in your power of pink post. We needed a pink that was versatile, that could be worn day or evening, and we think we created three excellent prototypes. As I already told you, our team unanimously votes for number one, but we’d like your input.”
My input. I can do this. Color is something I understand well. But I look to Eugenie. She’s part of the company, and I’m just a contractor. She should speak first.
“Skye?”
I’m surprised when she defers to me.
“Hmm,” I say. “Number two says millennial pink to me. It’s a light blush color with just a hint of orange. Kind of like dogwood pink. It’s quite pretty, but when I think of the power of pink, it’s not really cutting it for me. Plus, even though Susie Girl is marketed to younger women, we don’t want to target just millennials.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Adrienne says. “What do you think of one and three?”
“Three is what I’d call fuchsia or magenta. It’s pretty close to the neon of the Make Things Happen that I wore in the original post. It’s beautiful, but I’d be hard pressed to pair it with some other colors.”
“Yes, yes,” she agrees again.
“What do you think, Eugenie?” I ask.
“Color is the art department’s baby,” she says. “And yours, of course. You have an excellent photographer’s eye, Skye.”
Okay, maybe she’s not upset with me after all. I can’t be the first independent contractor to refuse to sign already prepared documents.
“Number one…” I let the color sink into my mind. “It’s… It’s gorgeous, like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It’s a little watermelon, with…”
“Rosewood. Just a touch of brown.”
“It’s perfect. It’s definitely pink, but that addition of brown gives it the neutrality you’re looking for. This color exudes happiness yet will go with any color wardrobe. How did you do it?”
“It’s my job.” Adrienne smiles.
“I miss that part of being an artist,” I say. “As a photographer, I have to work with the colors of my subject. Yes, I can edit, and I can manipulate the lighting, but to create a new color…”
“Nothing’s stopping you from getting into art,” she says.
“Well…I am. Photography is my first love, but color mixing has always fascinated me. Thank you so much for letting me be a part of this process.”
�
�You came up with the slogan.”
“I was simply having a bad day, and I put on some nail polish.”
“And it made you feel better?” Adrienne asks.
Did it? I guess it did. It all led to this moment, anyway. The breakups with Braden and Tessa seem far in the past now.
“Yes,” I reply. “It made me feel better. A lot better.”
“And that’s the power of pink,” Eugenie chimes in. “I think we’re all agreed that number one is the way to go. When will this be on the shelves?”
“That’s up to manufacturing, purchasing, and distribution, of course,” Adrienne says, “but we’re hoping within a month, now that the color has been chosen. You and Skye should begin devising the social media campaign.”
Eugenie closes the file folder in front of her. “We’re on it. Thanks, Adrienne. This is a gorgeous color. I agree with Skye. I’m not sure I’ve seen anything like it.”
“We’re pretty proud of it. Thank you both for your input.”
I glide out of the art department alone with Eugenie. This has been fun.
Of course, now we have to get back to the trademark of the susieglow hashtag.
“Tell you what,” Eugenie says. “I can probably have the new hashtag paperwork drawn up by this evening. I’ll bring it to our dinner date. I’m sure you’d like Braden to look it over.”
I drop my mouth open. I haven’t even told Braden about any of this. “There’s no need. I can stop by and sign it in the morning.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to have this put to bed sometime today. I’ll bring it to dinner.”
“Of course, whatever’s easier for you.”
Odd. If anything, Braden will be more stringent than I am. But whatever. I love the pink that Adrienne and her team created, and I’m excited about The Power of Pink campaign.
Things are good.
…
Back at Braden’s Manhattan penthouse, I wait patiently. He’s probably at his New York office, and I don’t expect him before six at the earliest. Dinner reservations are at eight. No staff is here, so I help myself to a bottle of sparkling water from his fridge and think about what to wear for dinner.
I jerk when the elevator doors open.
It’s only three p.m., but in walks Braden.
And he doesn’t look happy.
“Skye,” he says simply.
“Braden.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you and Eugenie for dinner this evening.”
“Oh? Why not?”
He inhales. “Something has come up.”
“What?”
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
“Braden, anything that concerns you concerns me.” I draw in a breath. “Is Addison still stalking you?”
His eyebrows nearly fly off his forehead, but he doesn’t answer.
“Come on. She has to be. Either that or she’s stalking me. Or both of us. How else would she know all the things she knows? How else would she have ended up at the convenience store across from Tessa’s place the other night?”
“I have this handled,” he says.
“So she is.” I shake my head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“This isn’t as simple as you think.”
“Of course it’s as simple as I think. Make her stop, legally if you have to. I don’t appreciate being spied on.”
“Do you think for a minute that I don’t have more tails on her than she has on me?”
My mouth drops open.
“I’ve told you before that I have her watched. Why does this surprise you?”
“What’s up with the cat and mouse game, then? Why are you letting her do this?”
He draws in a deep breath. “There are things you don’t know.”
“Only because you won’t tell me.”
Have I gone too far? At the moment, I don’t rightfully care. I just got through a stressful meeting with the business acumen of Braden Black. I love him, but I don’t need him.
And I deserve an answer, damn it.
“Have you considered that I may not be able to tell you?”
I widen my eyes. “What?”
He paces away from me for a moment and stares out the window in the living area. Manhattan is gray, as usual. Why do people live here? Boston is so much more beautiful.
He can’t tell me?
How is that even remotely possible?
Unless…
“Braden, does she have something on you?”
He turns toward me but doesn’t meet my gaze. Very un-Braden-like.
Damn. I don’t want to be right. I really don’t want to be right.
If I’m right, that means…
Jesus. Why didn’t I listen to Apple? If I had, I’d know right now. I’d know this big secret that Braden is keeping.
“Why are you protecting her?” I ask. “What am I supposed to think? You won’t tell me. I can only deduce that she has something on you.”
“She doesn’t. At least not in the way you’re thinking.”
“How can you possibly know what I’m thinking?”
“I know you, Skye. You think what Betsy told you is true. You think I did something to Addison that I shouldn’t have done. You’re wrong.”
“Prove it to me. Prove to me I’m wrong, then.”
“I shouldn’t have to prove anything to you. If you will never trust me, how can you still be in this relationship?”
I open my mouth, but find I have no words.
Because he’s right.
If I don’t trust him, I have no business being in a relationship with him.
I made a promise to myself. To him. That I’d give him time to tell me. And now I’m welching?
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I promised I wouldn’t push. I do trust you, Braden. I know you’re a good man. I couldn’t be with you if I didn’t believe that.”
He strides toward me and pulls me to his chest. “I know you trust me, Skye. You’ve proved that many times over. You have to trust me with this as well.”
“I do.” I nod into his shoulder.
He pushes me away slightly and meets my gaze. “I will tell you what you want to know, but I need your promise that it goes no further than you.”
“I tell Tessa everything.”
“Not this. I can make you sign an NDA like you did for the club.”
“That’s not necessary. I won’t tell Tessa about the club, and I won’t tell her anything you don’t want me to.”
“Good. And it’s not just Tessa. You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you. Especially not Addie or that friend of hers.”
“Who?”
“The one who owns the dog supply store.”
“Betsy? She and Addie aren’t really friends.”
“Maybe not, but she knows some of this. You can’t tell her anything more. Got it?”
I look into those beautiful blue eyes. They’re laced with a tad bit of sadness. Just a touch, but I can see it. He’s sorry he has to do this, but he’s willing to do this. For me.
“Of course, Braden. You can trust me. With anything.”
Chapter Forty-Six
I listen.
Simply listen, letting Braden’s words morph into pictures in my mind.
…
She was beautiful, if you like blondes. Braden had always favored darker hair.
“They’re both on the prowl,” Ben said to him. “And they’ve got their eyes on us. Might be a lucky night for the Black bros. We can get some high-class pussy.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Braden said.
“What’s up your ass?”
“Nothing. I’m just not in the mood.”
“Not in the mood for sex?” Ben laughed
. “Fine. Have a drink. Have five drinks. I’m going to get me some of that.” He walks toward the Ames sisters.
Identical twins, both blond and beautiful. Ben began working his magic on the one with longer hair. Soon they disappeared.
The other one, though.
She was… Braden couldn’t put his finger on it. She was staring at him, trying to get his attention all night, but something was off with her.
Still…he hadn’t had sex in a while. When you worked construction six days a week in the hot sun, you were dirty as a pig and fucking exhausted the rest of the time. What little free time he had he spent researching. He had an idea—an idea that could be big. He just had to figure out how to get it off the ground. With so little time and even less money, it didn’t seem likely. Still, it was his dream, and he spent his off time working on it. No time to get dressed up and cruise for chicks. How could he find women who liked what he liked, anyway? Not all girls let a guy tie them up. At twenty-four, he was getting too old for casual sex. Ben was barely twenty-one and still liked flashing his ID at bars.
This was his scene, not Braden’s.
Ben had heard about the party at the Ames’ mansion through a friend of a friend. When he suggested they check it out, Braden finally agreed. They’d had the day off work, so he wasn’t dead tired as he usually was. While the time might have been better spent working on his ground floor idea, Ben had finally persuaded him.
The other Ames twin approached him.
Braden looked around. Shit. No escape. The house was getting crowded.
She smiled at him. “Hi there. Welcome. I’m Addison Ames.”
“Braden Black.”
“Who’s your friend? The one who went off with my sister?”
“He’s not my friend. He’s my brother, Ben.”
“Oh. So what do you do, Braden Black?”
“Construction.”
Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Construction? Do you live around here?”
He shook his head. “South Boston.”
She smiled. South Boston seemed to please her. Why? He didn’t know.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asked.
“Wild Turkey.”
“What’s that?”