Page 81 of Savage Suit
“I want to wear that one,” I said, nodding to it.
Megan and Tina stopped whatever they’d been discussing with Celine and her assistant. They all looked at me before Megan turned accusing eyes toward the stylist.
“You can’t—”
“We don’t have time to argue, Megan darling,” Tina chirped. “If she wants to wear that, let her.”
“That is the most expensive,” Megan said brusquely. “If you damage it in any way, you will be required to pay for it.”
“I didn’t ask for a makeover in the first place,” I retorted.
“You didn’t ask, but you needed it,” Megan said, always ready with a reply.
Nicholas had left after my disastrous rehearsal. I forgot entire sentences, left out crucial words, and barely paused for a breath. Deep inside of me, my dread grew as I veered toward imminent disaster. Reid and Quinn had disappeared not long after. He needed to get downstairs and attend a few things, including a pass for Quinn identifying her as an invited guest should security question her for any reason.
Their departure left me alone with Megan and Tina. In turns, they traded barbs and insults, and then abruptly banded together to focus on me. My hair and makeup had been perfected, so I only needed to choose my shoes before I changed. I settled on the metallic purple lace-up sandals more appropriate for a cocktail party, but the alternatives were pointy-toed short boots, platform heels requiring death defying stunts to walk in, and flats.
“Well, imagine that?” Megan said, her displeasure clear. “You have lovely shoes to match the dress Ryan chose.”
Celine gave Megan a sheepish look. “Sorry,” she mouthed.
The next argument arrived over the jewelry at hand. Celine insisted I needed pieces that matched the dress. Megan shot her down, unless I guaranteed I’d pay for damaged or lost items. Tina stepped in and overrode Megan, so Celine brought the jewelry to me.
The time arrived to go down to the lobby. If I had been headed to my own execution, I wouldn’t have felt such dread. When the elevator doors opened, a small crowd awaited us. Several bodyguards, Noah’s secretary, Reid, Nicholas, a couple of faces I’d seen in the area outside my office, and a few people I didn’t know.
“Are you ready, Miss Hagen?” a man with a suit on and a small mic clipped to his tie asked.
No. “Whenever you are,” I voiced.
As I followed him, the other two bodyguards flanked my sides.
“I know you’re nervous, Ryan,” Reid said from behind me, “but we all have the utmost faith in you. You can do this.”
We’d see how he was feelingafterI stumbled through Megan’s hollow words. “Thank you for your vote of confidence, Reid,” I said as shutters clicked, and flashbulbs turned the situation surreal. They’d spotted me and were hurling questions my way.
Even if I wanted to pause, I couldn’t have. Nothing stopped the forward motion until I stood next to a podium as Megan stepped behind it, unperturbed by the unending camera sounds. I saw no evidence of a microphone, yet when she spoke, her voice carried over hidden speakers.
My sister sat in the front row at the end. She blew me a kiss and gave me the thumbs-up sign. I nodded, but the pit of my stomach was tight. I didn’t see Noah.
I’m not sure if that was good or bad.
Megan droned on, extolling my virtues and my education and my sense of humor, going on and filling in the blanks when she didn’t know jack shit about me. Instead of taking the time to tear down my confidence, her ass should’ve been getting to know me.
“Please join me in welcoming our new Amage Account Executive, Miss Ryan Hagen.” Offering a brilliant smile, she indicated me with a flourish of her hand, then turned fully and joined in the applause. “We will take a few pre-screened questions once Ryan finishes,” she announced, then stepped aside.
Nodding at her as we traded places, I drew in a deep breath, set down the typed statement, cleared my throat, and smiled. The small microphone rising from the lectern barely registered. The faces staring at me showed various emotions. Curiosity, amusement, and derision. Only Quinn’s was friendly. Ingrid Warrington sat front and center, wearing a navy pantsuit. She regarded me with such disdain, I wondered if Megan was right.
“Good evening.” The frantic camera sounds quieted; the sudden silence overwhelmed me. A quick glance down reminded me of my next words. “Thank you for your warm welcome, Miss Buford.” She’d insisted on that exact line. “I am excited and happy to join Keegan Enterprises—”Shit. “I-I mean Keegan Group Media…Keegan Media Group,” I amended, doing my best to ignore everyone—their expressions, their titters, and their murmurs. Another sneak peek stirred my brain. “I have enjoyed the…the rigorous interview process o-over these past weeks and appreciated everyone’s patience and…and…and w-willingness to teach me the ropes at KGM…uh, KMG. I kn-know Mr. K-keegan took a tremendous risk by hiring me. M-my previous p-position could in no way prepare me f-for the demands I will find as p-part of the Keegan team. Keegan Media team.” I swallowed. “Keegan Media Group team.” My toes curled in my sandals, and it took everything in me not to shake. The purple choker felt constricting. Whatever I was supposed to say next dissolved into nothingness. I couldn’t remember any of it.
Then I looked at Quinn. On her face, I saw encouragement. She was the embodiment of what I’d preached to her. What our mother had instilled in me. No one could tear us down without our permission. They could try, but ifweallowed the hate and scorn to affect us, we had a hand in our downfall. One of the most important things I’d impressed upon Quinn was honesty about herself. It was the only way to be happy and authentic with anyone else. My sister lived life as she saw fit and walked in her own truths.
Megan stepped beside me and tried to insert herself in front of me.
“No,” I protested. “I’m fine, Megan, thank you.”
She blinked. Unless she wanted to create a media storm, however, she couldn’t rain harsh words my way. She did the only thing she could: smiled and stepped away.
I grabbed the two pages, lifted them into the air and tore her words to tiny scraps of paper.
