I waved my hand to make Topher continue. "I'd had a few cocktails by the time Santa showed up."
"She's attractive, with coppery-red hair, dark-brown eyes." Topher was nervous and decided to hedge his bets on whether we liked her or not. "Always in a hurry, uptight. Her smiles are always puckered up, sour."
"Tasha Nichols isn't uptight. She's busy," I said, not caring that I'd revealed I knew her.
"Well," Topher said, "she could learn a thing or two from you, Mr. Maxwell, on how to make it look easy."
I checked my watch to hide my irritation. I made it look easy because a monkey could do my job. "One trick to that is to always arrive early. That way you look like you've got a handle on everything and have time to relax. Doesn't hurt to chat with the other early-arrivals. Those are the go-getters," I said.
Topher nodded, eager to put my advice to good use. "The meeting is in conference room four."
I led the way. I had purposefully avoided Tasha after the holiday party. She had the kind of talent, smarts, and drive that made me nervous. Still, she'd been like a beacon all through the rainy winter, and I'd looked for her every day. I'd finally decided to pull some strings and jump on her project, just to get the idea of her out of my system. I hoped she was every bit as uptight as Topher said, but our little run-in in the penthouse office had me worried.
A warm rush accompanied the memory of her wedged against me in the narrow door. Now, not only could I not take my eyes off her, but my body was drawn to her like a magnet. The success of her project was just a bonus.
The early-arrivals amounted to three executive assistants sent to take notes and the majority of Tasha's department managers. Her team was impressive, still working hard despite the positive reception of the finished project. Still, when they saw me, work was forgotten and out came the questions about the celeb
rities I had invited to the launch party. I regaled them with stories of the opulent party until they were roaring with laughter.
"I see my hangover cure is working for you," James called from the conference room doorway.
The conference room fell into a hush. James Berger's reputation was neck and neck with mine, though he'd gotten the bigger bonus last year. Now, he was the new standard of luxury living, and everyone regarded him with jealous awe.
I got up and met him in the doorway with a hearty handshake. "Didn't you take your own tonic? You look like hell."
James laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. "That's what I get for taking a midnight helicopter ride down to Santa Cruz. Starlight beach volleyball is worth it, let me tell you."
I gritted my teeth but grinned. James never missed an opportunity to flaunt his outrageous spending, and it was going over great with the wide-eyed production team. "I did all right with post-party dim sum and cocktails in Chinatown," I said. "Next time you hit the Li Po Lounge, try the White Dragon spritzer. I helped out with the recipe."
"Perfect thing to mix up at my yacht party this weekend. You in? I know you don't have your sea legs, but she's a real gentle giant. We're taking her out to the Golden Gate Bridge and then over to Sausalito," James said. "I'm telling you, Rainer, the yacht has opened up an entirely different world for me. Not that I don't love my helicopter, but the yacht is a whole new level."
"Sorry, ensign, but I don't have a sailor suit," I said. "Besides, didn't you hear there's an exclusive happy hour over at the speakeasy? I got the password to open up every single secret tunnel."
James laughed and wrapped an arm around my neck. "I bet you do. That explains why I saw you with supermodels on each arm last night. Oh, and here, that's the number for my tailor. He'll set you up with a suit even if you have to put it on a payment plan."
I took the card and slipped it into my suit pocket. James was a braggart, but he had enviable taste and no end of high-society connections. He was just the buddy I needed to give me access to the best investment bankers. Whatever change I made from the GroGreen app was going right into high-return investments. It was time to close the financial gap between me and my brother.
"Trust me, Rainer, you won't regret it. Hey, I was just swinging in to congratulate you on the press conference. Bang-up job. Next time you might want to pause longer before you answer the questions. Don't want to seem too slick," James said.
"Isn't that what I told you about those rich debutantes you were after last night?" I asked. "You buy me lunch at Manny's and maybe we can compare notes."
"Oh, no, I'm not a fool," James said. "A little advice here and there is good, but I'm not forgetting you're my competition, and you shouldn't either. You got lucky jumping on this project. Took it right out of my playbook from last year. That means it's on, Rainer. I'm watching you."
He backed out of the conference room door, alternating pointing two fingers at his eyes and at me. The employees around the conference table laughed at his antics. Topher, on the other hand, scribbled copious notes on the exchange; he wrote down anything he thought I could use later.
With James Berger out of the way, the conference room began to fill up. I started interesting conversations here and there on my way back to my seat, but I really was just keeping an eye on the door. It wasn't like Tasha to be late. Half the reason I'd followed my own good advice about arriving early was because I thought it was something someone like her might say. I had hoped for a chance to chat with her before the room got too crowded. The last thing I wanted was for her to think I was just on her project for a quick payday.
Tasha Nichols was the opposite of James Berger and all the more attractive for it. She dressed conservatively in tidy pencil skirts and suit coats that she could interchange without breaking the bank. My mind drifted to the array of bright, silky blouses she wore, but I shook off the tempting thoughts. Tasha knew how to work hard, make people respect her, and build her own stellar reputation. She was just the kind of colleague I needed to help me in the long run.
"Rainer, it's been months. How are you?" A leggy blonde with sharp eyes gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.
A quick and clever charade by Topher saved me from fumbling for her name. "Dora. You look lovely as ever."
The problem with watching the door is there were a lot of familiar faces that I wished had moved on to other jobs. Being the office playboy went over well with the old boys' club upstairs, but it was hell on my physical well-being. More than one of the women I had had pleasant encounters with now looked ready to flay me alive.
"You really should call back," Dora advised me in a cold tone. "It's just tacky to ghost someone like that."
The advice echoed as I sat down and gave the doorway one more glance. I had given Tasha Nichols my number the night of the holiday party and watched her throw it away. This morning, she acted as if we had never spoken before, and it stung. I sat back and wondered if I would get the chance to talk to her more or if this whole project was just another bad line I couldn't take back.