When the doors open, I’m greeted with a reception area similar to the one Trish sits at, but more grandiose and missing a redhead. A woman I assume is Asher’s assistant, Cecelia, greets me. I had to call her, rather embarrassingly, asking if I should go up to the penthouse or if the meeting would be taking place in my office. I really had no idea.
She answered with a serious tone. “Mr. Asher travels for no one.”
I wanted to be snotty and tell her he’s been in my office twice since I met him, but the point is moot.
“Mr. Asher will be with you in one moment. Please, have a seat.” Cecelia’s tone is far more cordial than it was earlier. Although, she does take a minute to assess me from head to toe. Peeking down at my navy dress with a boat neck, long sleeves and a hemline that falls at the knee. I look like a professional. I’m sure Asher’s had a few Heathers come through here with their short skirts and low-cut shirts. Cecilia must have a field day people-watching.
The seating area is similar to the one downstairs, with its white leather sofas and chrome furniture. Instead of plasma screens, there’s a massive fish tank that takes up most of the wall. Inside are the most exotic sea creatures I’ve ever seen. Vibrant-colored exteriors with exquisite forms. Gabriel would get a kick out of this.
Cecelia disappears behind a large mahogany door and reappears seconds later to tell me I can enter. I make my way through the door and wonder if I should leave it open. I don’t want Cecelia getting the wrong idea.
The office is large, high-tech, and divided into four sections. Asher has a desk in front of a large picture window. He’s seated at his desk, his back to me, on the phone. I stand in the center of the room and look over the space.
There is a seating area set up like a mini living room, a small conference area, and, apropos, a bar. Behind the bar is a large television screen in which, if you look closely, you can see the seam where four individual screens meet up. The screens are currently acting individually, playing CNN, MSNBC, FOX News, and the BBC. All controlled by an iPad on the bar. Very cool. Very mega mogul headquarters.
Asher swings his chair around and keeps a serious expression on his face even after he sees me standing here. He continues to talk to the person on the other end of the call while I walk forward and situate myself in one of the desk chairs.
I feel awkward, almost like I’m eavesdropping on his call. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the least. As I spread my files on the table, Cecelia knocks on the door and walks in with two cups of coffee. “Two black, as you requested.”
I glance over at Asher, surprised he remembers how I like my coffee. Cecelia leaves the room and closes the door behind her.
Asher dismisses his call in the same way he’s ended every conversation and meeting I’ve ever witnessed. Abruptly. Not knowing which version of Asher I’m going to get today, I wait for him to speak first.
“We never did get to have our meeting. The one when we were so rudely interrupted by the rain.” Idyllic eyes twinkle as he motions toward the black coffees.
Taking a sip, I force my shoulders to relax. “You like your coffee black too?”
“Something else we have in common,” he says.
It takes me a second to realize what he means. Well, to be honest, I don’t entirely know what he meant, but I’m not going to ask. I’m pretty sure he’s talking about our common interest in the arts and in this project. He’s keeping a tally of our interests. Is that weird? Maybe he really doesn’t have anyone around here he can be on friendly terms with.
I take out my copies of the rundown and place one in front of each of us. Slipping into business mode, Asher goes through the entire document, minute by minute, second for second. He probably doesn’t know what he’s looking at. He’s a money guy, not a producer.
“A bar in the office. Very young mogul meets old-school businessman. I approve,” I offer. My awkward comment is met with his intense silence. I inhale through my nose and play with my fingers.
Asher leans back in his desk as he assesses the document. I’ve added the time he has requested but had to cut down on the three celebrity acts considerably to make up the difference. I also took time away from his speech. Let’s hope he’s a quick talker.
His blond hair looks darker in the dim light of the office. Everything about him seems a little darker. Although there is a giant window behind the desk, the light pouring through casts a shadow in variations of black and white around his solid frame.
I shift my weight in my seat. “There is additional commercial block built in there. Malory has been doing a kickass job selling ad space.”
“She should. We’ve contracted out the ad sales to another company,” he says, flipping the page.
I swallow. My nails are incredibly fascinating to me right now. I don’t do well in silent situations. It’s like I have this innate desire to fill the empty void with chatter. And once I say something, I immediately wish I’d kept my mouth shut.
So I just sit and stare. At least the view is nice.
Asher’s lips pucker and he slides the pen down the document, reading every word and number on the page. His eyes skim over the same portion of the paper a few times, trailing back and forth from left to right. Either he disagrees with something on the page or…
“You don’t know how to read a rundown, do you?”
His head pops up betraying a mixture of surprise and insult that I asked the question.
What the hell is wrong with me? For someone who has spent her life keeping her idiotic thoughts to herself, I certainly have diarrhea of the mouth when I’m around this man.
I lower my lids and let out a sigh, feeling so foolish for accusing my boss of not knowing how to read a simple production document. A second later, when I open my eyes, I’m surprised when I see, instead of an affronted mogul, something else.
The left side of his mouth is curled up and he lets out a light chuckle from deep in his throat. “You got me. I have no idea what I’m looking at.”
A gush of air washes out from my lungs. And with that air comes all the nervous energy I carry when I’m around here. I let out a huge unattractive snort and then try to cover it up with my hand laugh.
“Amused?” he asked, his mouth still bent.
I gather my wits and wipe a tear from my eye. “No. I mean, yes.” I cough and then take a deep breath, sitting up straight again to regain my self-control. “I’m sorry. That was rather unprofessional.”
Asher drops the document on his desk and leans forward, folding his hands into each other and placing them on his desk. “It’s okay. Maybe you can show me what I’m looking at.”
This should be interesting. One would think someone of his stature would know how to do just about anything.
I grab the arms of my chair and scoot myself closer so I can lean forward and look at the rundown he placed on his desk. Using my pen, I point to the column all the way to the left and tell him the program is portioned out into blocks categorized with letters of the alphabet. Each block contains a segment of the event, whether it be a speech, a performance, or an interview. Pretty much every element of the show is given its own block, and with each block comes a block of time. If Asher knows any of this already, he doesn’t allude to it. He lets me move along explaining each portion of the document, how to read the time that’s been allotted, where the commercial breaks are, and the various elements that will be in place for each block of the show.
He’s a quick study and starts making changes immediately. No surprise, his changes are good, but not simple. The tricky thing about creating a rundown is making one change has a domino effect on the pieces before and after the change.
We take our pens and start marking up the pages. His black and my blue pen shooting over the white pages like a piece of modern art.
“You can’t do that,” I say.
“Why not? We just took thirty seconds from Crystalis’s performance.”