And who knows? Maybe Heather was going to give me credit for the idea.
Yeah, right, I know.
I discuss the idea with Trish, not acting bitter in any way, and even give her some pointers. If someone is going to get credit, then I’d prefer it’s Trish. Like she said, this is her big break. Malory would have done the same thing for me a few years ago if the opportunity arose.
At the end of our coffee break, I bid Trish good-bye without giving her the slightest inclination I’m upset. She seems to enjoy working for Heather, and I don’t want to make any enemies.
I already made one of those with Asher.
I’ve only been working again for a minute, but I’m exhausted. I race home from work every day in order to make it home to do something with Jackson before he has to go to bed. The sun is out longer this time of year, but the last few days I’ve been home in time to take our walk. To be honest, I’ve been keeping him up much later just so we can have extra snuggle time. By the time I get him in bed, I have just enough time to watch my shows on DVR and take care of any household chores. No matter how busy you are, clothes need to be washed and floors need to be mopped.
How come working dads get away with skirting from errands and chores while women have to be the holy trinity—career woman, wife, and mother?
I shake my head and move on from the idea. Even if I let Gabriel do the dishes, he’d probably stack the dishwasher wrong and I’d have to reorganize it myself.
As exhausted as I am, I can’t sleep. I hit the hay at midnight and stare at the ceiling attempting to count sheep or what ever it is you’re supposed to do when you can’t sleep. Gabriel is laying beside me, sleeping heavy, while my mind races a mile a minute. I have so many thoughts going through my mind, starting with my job.
I feel like I have so much on my plate. While I have an idea of what needs to be done, I’m anxious to do a good job. What if the announcer says someone’s name wrong because I didn’t provide him with the proper copy written phonetically? What if I accidentally book a vendor for the wrong day or misread Gretchen’s celebrity riders and give the candy dish of green M&Ms to a diabetic guest or a meat and cheese platter to the vegan pop star? What if we forget to put a microphone on a guest or her name is misspelled on the television screen? I know there is an entire team of people who are there to create the production. It’s not all on me. But it feels like it is.
I also can’t sleep, because every time my eyes start to drift shut, I think I hear Jackson. He still wakes up once every night and I have to go to him. Most kids are sleeping through the night before they’re six months old. Not my kid. He needs to be rocked, and I’m a glutton for that little guy.
But the real reason, the biggest reason I can’t sleep, is because I’m afraid I’ll dream. Not a nightmare. No. Far from it. I’m afraid I’ll dream of Alexander Asher.
I’ve only met the man once, and he pissed me off beyond belief. But that dream was without a doubt the sexiest dream I have ever had in my entire life. It doesn’t so much frighten me that I had the dream. I’m more frightened by the fact I didn’t want to wake up.
Today, Gabriel and I are supposed to have our date night. Part of me doesn’t even want to go to this art exhibit because I need the sleep. I should be able to take a nap on the train home, but if you accidentally miss your stop, it’s a nightmare to get back home.
So, here I am, in a meeting, drinking large quantities of coffee to keep my energy up. Erik is seated at the head of the conference table, going over the vendor list I have for the event. We’re hiring a design production company to decorate the red carpet area, but we have to tell them exactly what we want and agree on costs. Malory has already approved the proposal, but since it’s over budget, Erik wants to weigh in. At the last meeting, Asher said he would be working closely on the project, but I haven’t seen nor heard from him or anyone in his office on the matter.
I’m grateful for that.
“You’re gonna have to cut this down. There is no way we’re spending this kind of money on flowers.” Erik looks over the itemized list. “And the step and repeat needs to be half the size. All the celebrities will be at Central Park. This is just to make the donors feel like big shots.”
The step and repeat is the red carpet. It’s where celebrities stop, get interviewed, have their picture taken, and then move on two feet to the next reporter, where they repeat the process.
“You’re absolutely right.” I nod and then add a note to my long list of things I need to get done. “That amount is there from when we were having the larger event at Lincoln Center. I will fix that.” There is no worse feeling than making a stupid mistake. I should have seen that myself.
Malory has a copy of the same document in her hands. She must have missed that item as well. She nods in agreement with Erik and turns to me. “Where are we with transportation costs?”
Transportation costs? If I knew I was handling that as well, I would have taken care of it. I wish she’d said something about this before our meeting with Erik.
I don’t even know who our preferred transportation vendor is. I come up with the best excuse I can on the fly. “Once I know who the guests are and where they’re coming from, I’ll have a proposal for you.”
Malory seems to respect that answer. Erik is still looking over the design specs.
“Slash the floral costs in half and fix the red carpet costs before showing this to Asher.” Erik hands me the paperwork and steps out with Malory to take another meeting.
It’s not like I made a huge mistake, but it’s discomforting. Better to have had Erik review this before Asher. I do not want him to see me as anything but an excellent choice for the job.
I get back to my desk and make the necessary changes.
The budget with the floral design company is easy to fix. I’ll still get my dahlias. They’ll be a mixture of black, purple, and hot pink, but they’ll mix in black daisies to fill in the holes. I want everything to look lush and full. They also opted to sprinkle them with a faint amount of glitter to get them to sparkle under the camera lights.
I make another call to the production design team who is decorating the stage. They are also providing the black carpet for outside. I have them amend that change and ask for new copies of everything.
When the new proposal comes in through my e-mail, I print it and drop it in an interoffice envelope along with the other documents Erik already approved. Taking the envelope, I walk it over to Trish’s desk to be sent up to the top floor. If I can avoid having to see Alexander Asher, then I will at all costs.
Letting my hair down from my low ponytail, I brush it out to let loose a little. I’m supposed to meet Gabriel in a half hour at the Museum of Modern Art. I change from my heels to a pair of ballet flats I keep in my bag and marvel at the relief they provide. Gabriel doesn’t care if I wear heels or flats, and tonight I’m going for comfort.
I’m just about to head out the door with my bag in hand when my cell rings.
“Hey.” I answer after seeing Gabriel’s picture light up the caller ID. It’s a picture of him in his tux at our wedding. He looked so unbelievably beautiful that day.
“Don’t hate me.” Yup, those are the first words out of his mouth.
I slump my shoulders and drop my bag on my desk. “You’re bailing on me.” It was a statement. Not a question.
“I am so sorry. I swear if I could leave, I would, but I just got this file on my desk with affidavits and I have to file an appeal immediately.” I can picture Gabriel running his hands along his forehead and down through his hair.
My head falls to my chest and I lean against the white wall. “You know, for someone who gave me a hard time about working because I won’t be there for our family, you are doing a damn good job at it yourself.” I feel bad throwing it in his face, but it had to be said.