I ruffled through the folder. “How many people are they talking here?”
“Ninety-Seven names on the guest list.” Mimi answered without blinking. Her tone dark, as if she just announced how many people were pronounced dead in a tragic accident.
“Ugh, and counting.” My heart sank further into my gut after opening a fresh email update with the same subject line.
“Must have been after I was dropped off the chain. Whew.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
As if she weren’t near enough, Mimi rolled closer to me.
“Between you and me…I think there’s a lot more to this than just a rich guy in acompletely different industrywho Starr and Dean want to impress.” Mimi spoke low. “There’s definitely something they’re not telling us. Something that makes this account very important.”
I stared at my new friend blankly. “Something worth waiting until next Monday morning before I get too comfortable here?” I asked tentatively, biting my lip.
Mimi pressed her lips together and nodded sympathetically.
“Great,” I sighed.
Two hours later, I’d caught up on emails, memorized the thin blue folder of information handed to me and left a message for Katherine—Donovan’s assistant—to give me a call back as soon as possible. I wasn’t wasting any time. First thing first; Get the venue! From what little I was given, it had to be a place well known in the city, highly elaborate, and expensive, if not by price then at the very least by appearance. And it needed to be large enough to fit over one hundred and thirteen people comfortably. I had twelve sites pulled up on my screen and started calling them immediately. Each conversation lasting shorter than the previous. By my fifth phone call, I had learned to get to the point.
I tried everything; name dropping, figures, even a threat—nothing worked. Finally, I called the one place that always worked for me in the past
“What about the Edison room?” I practically pleaded, hoping the hotel manager from my go-to venue in Manhattan would somehow make magic happen.
“Elle, I’m sorry, this is just too last minute. You know if you had a smaller party, I could move things around, but this sounds impossible. At least for us,” Gary admitted. He was the restaurant and event manager at the prominent hotel and was as close as I had to a friend most days.
“I could put you on the top of our list for high profile events,” I bribed, knowing it probably wouldn’t change their booking arrangements one bit.
“Even if I could move my corporate event to the smaller ballroom, I just don’t have the extra staff,” Gary explained. I could tell he’d considered it but just wasn’t finding a way.
I released a breath I’d been pointlessly holding. “I know, Gary—thanks.”
“Keep me in mind for future events…and I meanfurtherin the future, Elle.”
I reassured him and hung up. Keeping my hand on the receiver, I held back the threat of oncoming tears.
The hell?
I never cried when things got tough and stressful at work. These tears had to be something else.
Helplessness? The misery I still felt after losing my job at Brightman Events?
I took my usual count of deep breaths again, careful not to let anyone see my frustration on my first account with the firm.
And possibly my last.
By seven o’clock that evening, I’d left several voicemails from my little black book of caterers, florists and bands. Securing only the band. Then before signing off for the night, I made a phone call I knew I’d have to make eventually and dreaded it. This one, I made from my cell phone ensuring he’d answer.
“Elle.” The sleazy voice on the other end sounded pleased and surprised at the same time.
“Shawn,” I stretched, forcing a smile with my voice. “How’s it goin’?
Immediately, he scoffed. “You either need something, or you’ve been feelin’ lonely lately. Either one works for me, babe. What can I do for you?”
“What are you doing Sunday?” I asked, getting to the point.
“With any luck—you.” I could hear the smirk playing on his face.
