Hang up, hang up, hang up.
Deep breath. This was going to be worth it. “I need a photographer.”
“ForthisSunday? Either you’re slackin’ on the job babe, or someone bailed.”
“Shawn, you’re theonlyphotographer I know who doesn’t work Sundays.” I rubbed my temples, trying to remember what worked for my ex. “Would it help if you knew you were my first phone call?”
“No. But it would help to know what I’m getting out of this.”
I scanned my spreadsheet and threw out the number that I budgeted for the photographer.
“Whoa, how many people are we talking here?”
I bit my lip. “Little over a hundred.”
“Are you insane? Elle, I can’t do that alone.”
“Yes, you can. Just grab a friend and give him a spare camera, we’ll only give them the picturesyoutake.”
Silence was on the other end for longer than I cared for. “This is not the event planner I know, Elle. You plan perfection,” he paused again. “You’re desperate.”
I glanced around the empty office and lowered my voice regardless. “I could lose my job, Shawn. Please.”
I heard a long sigh on the other end and what sounded like tapping.
“Fine. Send me the details.”
I breathed out a huge sigh of relief and thanked my sleazy ex. “I need food,” I muttered to myself after hanging up, knowing that I wasn’t going to get anywhere else tonight and may as well go home.
Still no venue, but at least the Hayes’ will have music and photos.
2
SCOTT
I walkedinto Donovan’s massive corner office, the bright afternoon sun glaring through the oversized windows. I always appreciated a good view, especially on the fortieth floor of a Times Square building but couldn’t stand the glare. The rest of the space was primarily furnished in dark wood with a liquor bar across from his immaculate desk. Situated in the middle of the room, was a black leather sofa, two armchairs and a coffee table where Donovan conducted private business meetings that involved one to two clients he considered too important for a conference room.
I stood near the far corner of the room and watched repeats of the flashing billboard across Broadway. I checked my watch. One more minute. I never waited longer than seven for a scheduled appointment. Not even for Donovan Hayes.
“Why seven?” Kat, Donovan’s assistant, had once asked me.
“Because all meetings can be wrapped up within five minutes once you know someone is waiting for you. And I tend to give two minutes leeway for travel and updating ones’ assistant.”
“Scott.” Donovan entered his own office and tossed his jacket onto the sofa.
“Another thirty seconds and you would have had Kat chasing me down the corridor.”
“How’s the new investment?” He moved straight to the bar, ignoring my empty threat.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the view. “I haven’t signed anything yet or written any checks.”
Donovan raised a hopeful brow. He was against this latest venture of mine from the beginning.
“But I will,” I reassured.
“Sure you won’t reconsider a few other investments I have in mind—guaranteed a sure thing?”
“No, Donovan. I’ve had my eyes on Starr-Bright Events for months. I’ve already explained why and I’m not getting into it with you again.”
