She let loose a laugh that sounded more like artillery fire than an expression of good humor. I tried to laugh along, hoping she wouldn’t notice my lack of actual mirth.
“Uh, right, I’ve heard that.” There was a fizzy feeling of anticipation in my stomach, and tingling in my fingers and toes. Was she about to ask me to…
“And so I suggested you as a replacement!” Evangeline grabbed my hands and squeezed them, looking imploringly into my eyes. “Oh, say you’ll do it, Kate, please. Your designs will be perfect to round out the bill.”
As if I needed any convincing? “Hells yes!”
Evangeline gave a whoop of delight. “Excellent! I knew I could count on you! This is so exciting—a genuine local success story will really draw in the press, and the public will eat it up like candy. Everyone down at Blossom just loves you and Asher.”
And just like that, the hot air balloon of my happiness was punctured, and I had to pretend that my heart wasn’t plummeting towards the ground. “Yeah. Me and Asher. What a team.” I forced a grin that I hoped didn’t look like rictus. “That’ll be great.”
Evangeline promised to e-mail me the timeline, contract, and details of what would need to be done in the next few weeks. We exchanged a few more pleasantries that I was barely conscious of making, and I waved goodbye as she and her entourage breezed off to their next stop.
The second she was gone, I turned to Lacey, panic writ plain on my face.
It was just sinking in how much work I had agreed to.
“What’s wrong?” Lacey asked. “Isn’t this a good thing? This seems like a good thing. Scratch that, it seems like the best possible thing ever.”
“It would be, if I wasn’t already having trouble meeting demand! Dammit.” I buried my face in my hands for a second. “Aaargh! I have to do the show, it’s my dream! But how am I going to find the time to put together everything I need, without the store going under? I need all new designs, new materials, time to execute samples—”
Lacey chewed her lip. “I guess you’re going to have to talk to Asher.”
I cast around for another, less-painful option, like maybe cutting out my heart and stomping on it, but I couldn’t think of a single damn thing.
Asher it was then. Hoo-fucking-ray.
FOUR
It was strange, but I hadn’t actually been to Asher’s office before now. We’d always conducted meetings at my store, or at warehouses, or restaurants, or his boat that one time. Looking back, I was willing to admit that it looked like he had been making an effort, not just to save time, not just to involve me in every step of the decision-making process, but also to take time out to relax and have fun.
Or maybe he just didn’t think I was important enough to invite me to his sanctum sanctorum.
And now that I saw it, the damn building loomed over me. Fucking loomed, like a goddamn super-villain lair.
“If I find out he had this built on some comic book specifications, I swear to God…” I muttered under my breath as I pressed the call button outside. I smothered my misanthropy and summoned up a cheery smile with only slightly more effort than it would have taken to summon up Lucifer. “Hello! I’m Kate Jameson, I have an appointment with Asher Young?”
“Certainly,” a chipper young voice answered. “Come right on in.”
A tone sounded indicating the doors were open, and I took a deep breath and pushed on through.
My heels clicked against the black marble of the floor, as I tried not to look too bowled over by the opulence of the lobby— the tasteful rugs and the paintings on the wall that I was pretty sure I recognized from Art History class. I mean, I work—I used to work—at Devlin Media Corp., a company run by people for whom opulence was just a starting-off point. I should be a little harder to impress.
But damn, if I wasn’t intimidated as hell.
The receptionist who had buzzed me in waved me over with a smile on her face, and handed me my pass to show to any security guards who might challenge my presence. “Mr. Young told us to expect you! You just take the elevator right on up to the sixth floor and you’ll see his office, the big one with the frosted glass. Would you like some tea or soda or anything before you head up?”
“No thanks,” I said shortly. Her face fell slightly, and I felt a twinge of remorse. It wasn’t her fault that Asher apparently liked to hire thin, blonde, supermodel-gorgeous women as well as date them. She probably hadn’t slept with him.
Probably.
I managed to stew over my mental images of that for the whole elevator ride, and had worked up a fine head of steam by the time I got to Asher’s office. I gave a perfunctory trio of knocks—maybe a tad harder than was strictly necessary—and burst in.