Page 79 of Dropping the Ball

The plan is to roll up the bay door and build the floral arch for the guests to enter through, all part of the luxe Threadwork Discovery Gala Presented by Armstrong Industries experience.

“I was looking at photos from previous Met Galas, and something kept jumping out at me. The grand staircase. Women choose gowns specifically for the way they will photograph on that staircase. It got me thinking: what if instead of walking straight through the arch, we built a staircase?”

My eyes follow his pointing finger to the bay door. “Why would a single-level event need stairs?”

“Think of it like a bridge. They climb the stairs on one side, walk down the other.”

“I don’t get it. Stairs to nowhere? Explain like I’m five. But also in less than five minutes.” Staircases and red carpets don’t mean much without the auction items, and I need to go land a big one. One that will finally give me some momentum.

“You’re doing a temporary tunnel from the parking lot to the entrance, right?”

“Yes. You can rent anything, including event tunnels.”

“Props to whoever dreamed up that niche. But the point of having guests come through it is to distract them from the reality that they’re walking into a warehouse. They enter from the parking lot, walk twenty yards through this tunnel, and step into Event Land?”

“Basically. There will be soft lighting and flower arrangements all through the tunnel.”

“And everyone waits inside it until it’s their turn to walk out and pose in front of the Threadwork branding, do the step-and-repeat for the press, show off their gowns. Then they walk into Discovery?”

This is not new information. He’s known the plan since the first time Madison walked the space with him. “Micah, I really need to—”

“Anticlimactic.”

I pause, mouth open. Anticlimactic? “Sorry, should we ask each guest to give us a walkout song and make it a production?”

“Deepen the illusion. Make every part of the experience from the second they step into the tent tunnel reinforce the feeling they’re leaving behind the familiar. Like Disneyland. Every ride starts from the second you get in the line. If you’re going on the Jungle Boat, you’re weaving through a dock front.”

I’m starting to get it. “Paint me a word picture about the stairs.”

“The step and repeat will end where the stairs begin. The steps will be long and fairly shallow, and the rise will level out as it passes through the marigold arch. Those are fifteen feet high. If we figure the guests will all be under seven feet tall—”

“Unless Angel Clarke wears heels,” I joke, naming the center for the Dallas WNBA team who will be coming.

He grins. “I stand by my estimate. Even in heels, Angel Clarke wouldn’t hit it. We’d build the stairs to eight feet high. Guests finish the red carpet photos and move to the stairs. Spoiler: also red carpeted.”

“Genius.” My tone is dry.

He gives me a serious nod. “I’ve been saying. At the stairs, the ladies are ready to climb, then they stop halfway up.”

It clicks. “They pose showing the back of the dress.”

“Yeah. It’s a whole production with the Met Gala stairs, but photographers and guests and celebrity blog stalkers are all happy. Then through the arch and down the staircase on this side.”

He traces something in the air with his fingers, maybe the shape of the staircase he imagines. “Then they get to make a dramatic entrance for everyone below to see and admire their dress. Like every movie with a ball. Ever, I think?”

“Is that another hobby genre for you?”

“Only when there’s a zombie crossover.”

“Zombie balls have the top-of-the-stairs moment? I’d watch that.”

“I’d watch it with you.” His eyes drop to my lips like he’s back in the memory of our other zombie movie experience.

Boundaries.

My smile fades. “A grand staircase sounds like a several-grand project. I’m open to the idea, but I’ll need to know more.” I look down at my watch again. If I’m not on the road in the next five minutes, I’ll be late. “Could we meet Monday?”

“Don’t need to. I’ll explain while I walk you out.” He holds open the loft door for me. “This will be a cheap build. Plywood painted black. Red carpet makes it look high-end. Any guesses what the handrails will be made from?” His eyes sparkle as we reach the elevator and he pushes the button.

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