Page 8 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
“I’m not.” That’s all he says, like that would explain how he knows the exact date of a baseball game that I don’t know even though it’s my own brother’s team.
“Miss Taylor?” Lila pulls my attention back to her. “Any updates?”
“I should hear back from his agent tomorrow,” I say, even though I probably won’t actually talk to his agent. It just sounds more impressive. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear.”
“See that you do. Now, what do you think, Mr. Bradley?”
He’s going to think it all sounds gimmicky and gaudy because that’s Lila’s general style. For how much success her company has had over the years, she’s really not great at creating events that really resonate with people. They get the job done and make the client look fancy. The Greenwood Lodge needs warmth and connection. Something to give people a reason to see it as a home away from home. If Mr. Bradley has any sense at all, he’ll tell Lila that she needs to go back to the drawing board, and that will give me the chance to step in and save—
“I think it all looks marvelous!” Mr. Bradley says with more than a little enthusiasm.
I wince, and unless I’m mistaken, so does Fischer.
“Wonderful!” Lila claps her hands together, looking like she was just told she’s getting a brand new car for free. This might be the first time her ideas have been accepted without hesitation, and though she sees that as a good sign, it only means this event is going to flop if I don’t find a way to change everything.
Something tells me Lila isn’t going to be all that open to me taking over this one.
So much for today being my day.
Not with that attitude, a voice says in the back of my mind. I don’t remember what my mother sounds like, but I like to think this voice of positivity sounds like her. It makes her so much harder to argue with.
Fischer has gone tense beside me, and he seems to be trying to have a silent conversation with his boss across the table. I can’t read minds, but if I could, I would imagine their conversation is going something like this:
Fischer: Are you serious? You think any of those ideas were good ones?
Grant: Why not? Those canapés looked delicious.
Fischer: That doesn’t make them a good idea.
Grant: Did you order my lunch? I’m starving.
Fischer: We need to find a different planning company, or this reopening is going to fail.
“We should really get started,” I say, cutting off Lila, who has gone back several slides to talk about the part with the fog machine.A fog machine. “Since this is such a short time frame, Lila, I know you’ll want as much planning time as possible. I’ll set up a calendar with Mr. Bradley’s assistant.”
I grab Fischer’s arm to make sure he knows I have his back, but he only tenses more, his forearm straining beneath my fingers.Hello, muscle.
Though Lila looks ready to fire me on the spot—not a new look for her, honestly—she nods. “Yes, I would like the planning team to have as much time as possible to ensure this event brings you the attention you need. Mr. Bradley, if you would like to come to my office, we can discuss in greater detail your goals for the next few weeks.”
She snaps her fingers, which is the signal for everyone to go back to their desks. The Ember employees all look mildly nervous, but they’ll follow Lila’s lead even if they think her vision is a bad idea; they always do. At least, they do until something doesn’t work, and then they come running to me for ideas on how to fix it.
As soon as we’re alone, Fischer pulls his arm free and turns to face me. “While I appreciate your dedication to your company, I don’t see a point in us making a calendar. I will be recommending that Mr. Bradley finds a different company.”
“No!” My shout breaks out of me a lot louder than I meant it to and deepens Fischer’s scowl. “I mean, that’s a bad idea. I don’t think you’ll be able to find another company who can take on a project with such a short timeline.”
“If Ember can do it, so can someone else.” He rises.
I grab his hand, which makes him freeze. “Lila’s ideas are terrible. I know that. You know that. But what you don’t know is that her ideas arealwaysterrible, but her team always manages to make something incredible in the end.” I need to stand up. He’s taller than me already, but I especially don’t like the power dynamic I’m feeling down in my chair.
Hopping up, I grip his hand tighter even though he’s staring at our hands like he’s never been more offended. Or maybe confused. He’s expressive but also not, which makes him hard to read right now. “Look,” I say. “This was just a preliminary meeting. Nothing is set in stone, and I promise I can make sure this event ends up bringing the Greenwood Lodge back to life.”
He finally lifts his gaze to meet mine. A storm brews behind his dark eyes, making me shiver. “You?” he says, his voice low. “An assistant?”
I feel the challenge like a slap to the face, but I don’t let it phase me. Actually, I turn it into a cheerleader taunt, imagining him with pom poms and telling me that my team is going down. Too bad for him, I wasn’t cheer captain for nothing, and I’m not about to let a man tell me I can’t do something.
Grinning, I step forward until I’m absolutely in his bubble. That’s not hard to do; he seems like the kind of guy who has one of those thick inflatable balls surrounding him instead of a little soap bubble that is easy to pierce. I generally try to respect people’s personal space because most people have a bigger bubble than me, but something about this guy has me wanting to see how many buttons he has that I can push.
“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed,” I say with a bright smile, “but you’re an assistant too. Just because we’re treated like we’re less doesn’t mean we are. You obviously care about this reopening, and I have never cared about anything more. Ember is your best chance. So, are we going to set up a timeline or not?”
