Page 18 of Negotiation Tactics
Her smile drops at my accusatory tone. “Yeah, but I mean, it’s not like we were friends. We don’t keep in touch or anything. The last time I spoke to him was at the regionals for the entrepreneurship competition in our final year.”
Oh, okay, yeah, good point. She doesn’t really know him. But I whack my brain anyway, trying to come up with a way to use this new information to my advantage. If Lily knows Alistair insomecapacity, then maybe she can talk to the asshole for me. Play the ‘we used to go to the same school’ card. It doesn’t guarantee he’d listen, but it’s still worth a shot.
I lift myself from the chair and point a finger at Lily. “You need to speak to him!” Maybe if they reconnect and become friends, Lily can convince him that he should side with us. Maybe then he’ll even get me a meeting with the commission!
Hold on though, can people become best friends in a month?
Before I can share my genius plan with her, Lily throws me a grin. “Or you can speak to himyourselfsince the invitation to the Gala includes a plus-one.” She takes out a gilded black envelope from her pocket and produces an even fancier invitation where it does say guests can bring a plus-one. “If we can corner him, I think he might budge.”
Call it useless pride, but I don’t like to ask for help from people like Alistair. The most important thing is to win and prevent the pay cuts from happening though, so fuck it.
“Okay. This might work…” I breathe out, determination filling me. “I like this. If we catch him when he’s around important people and cameras, he will have no choice but to agree on behalf of the commission or it will look bad for the company… Or at the very least he can’t say no to an offline meeting between him, them and me.” The determination turns into ebbing excitement, the thrill of it unleashing bittersweet anticipation across me. “We’ll get Devon Holidays,” I profess, high-fiving her, “and they won’t even see it coming.”
Between the fresh case with the restaurant chain I pick up that day and my afternoon of scheming, the Devon Gala arrives quickly. I’m vibrating by the time I leave the office an hour earlier so I can get ready for the fancy succession, but I’m not going all out as I imagine most of the guests would be. I don’t need that sort of expense.
The dress code issummer, and I choose bold colors, opting for a predominantly yellow Hawaiian shirt and a pair of chinos in off-red. I contemplate wearing my dress shoes, but forego that and just put on my comfy gray sneakers.
“That will do,” I decide, running a comb through my hair. Normally, I let it do its thing and it works out ninety-nine percent of the time, but today I’m fashionably slicking it to one side.
“You look amazing,” I compliment myself, pleased with what I see in the mirror.
Fifteen minutes later, I meet up with Lily at the coffee shop we agreed on.
“Oh my! What have you done with our Joshua? You look like a different person.”
“I’m still me, just…elevated.” We both laugh at that as I give her a once-over. She’s sporting a Hawaiian shirt with a V-neck in green and blue, coupled with blue slacks. “I see great minds think alike. You look hot.”
She swats me playfully on the arm. “Of course I do. I have a great sense of fashion.” I know she’s joking, but she does give off this cool, badass girlboss vibe. I really dig it.
We swing by the counter as Lily finishes her cappuccino. Her younger sister is manning the coffee machine.
“You off? Have fun and steal me some gourmet food bites!”
I know there and then that Lily is bringing food home. It’s just how it is with younger siblings—saying No to their puppy eyes is just impossible. We kind of bonded over that when she joined, and now that I think about it, it kind of makes sense.
We take a taxi to the Oregon Convention Center, because of course that’s where the event is being held. The parking lots are full to the brim, and despite the chilly evening, some of the women are wearing summer dresses. A few of the men are dressed similarly to me, either sporting Hawaiian shirts or dress shirts in soft colors with rolled-up sleeves, but most have donned suits that match in color the impressive gowns of their partners.
“Well, it would seem we both underdressed for the occasion,” Lily whispers to me as we weave our way through the crowd.
The entrance we are headed to is decorated with fairy lights like it’s Christmas, and among the throng of people, I even spot a group of reporters.
“They really went all out. There are so many guests.”
She nods, looping her arm through mine. “Itisan important event for important people. Plus, I heard Christine Fleur will be attending too.”
Ah, I guess it makes sense. Christine is big right now, and her event management company Chris & B is even bigger. Everyone famous hires her, and last I heard, she was also dipping her toes into interior design. Knowing how social media works, I won’t be surprised if it becomes the next big fad. I’m not obsessed with celebrities, and I don’t follow every little thing that happens, but the sketches and concept designs Christine has been posting on her channels were very good.
Having passed security relatively quickly, we enter the main hall. The décor comprises plants and silk drapes interspersed with fairy lights, giving off a moody summer night vibe. Across the hall, arrangements depict summer scenes, with one featuring a small rose garden, and another a functioning beach bar with a small pool and sun chairs. Waiting staff wearing shorts or sun dresses glides around on skates with trays of champagne, masterfully avoiding the food buffets scattered around the main stage.
It’s a lot to take in, and not just because the number of people has tripled. Everyone looks stunning, making me wonder if perhaps Lily and I have been transported to some otherworldly place where fairytale balls are the norm.
“I thought you said Christine was invited as aguest.This feels like Chris & B arranged it,”I comment, examining from afar the tiered portable fountain with the stone benches and bush. We’re headed for the buffet tables near it, because the yummy looking stuff definitely needs a round of quality control.
“Maybe it’s someone trying to impress her? I have to say, they’ve done a great job.”
“That’s one way to get yourself on her radar, I suppose.” A bold one, unconventional too, but it could work. If I had the balls, I’d try it, too.
I grab two glasses of champagne from a beaming young girl with a pink dress and skates. It tastes expensive, and I have to remind myself that I’m not here to have fun. I am on a mission. I have a goal. Everything else is white noise.
