Lola said, “One I’m thrilled to be a part of, by the way.”
“Agreed,” Jen said.
Sarah gave a nod, then said, “I’m starving. Sushi. Stat.”
It was only eleven o’clock, but over sashimi, Crunchy New York, Dragon, and Spider rolls, they brainstormed more ideas that would take Lola’s sexy ad campaign to all-new levels.
While they reconciled the bill, Jen said to Lola, “You should be in the ads too.”
“No.” She gave a decisive shake of her head. “That’s Staci’s role.
She owns the shoes, the company, the image, the ad concept—”
“But here’s a play on all that,” Mark interjected. “Staci is the face of Staci Kay shoes, sure. But her entire empire is built on the premise of her employees’ dedication to her mission and their love of the product. So, an award-winning campaign, in my opinion, would feature those employees who are inspired by Staci and love her merchandise. Not to mention, it would showcase how diverse the company is, right? We have to keep playing up that component. It’s critical to our success.”
Lola’s gaze flitted around the table. She asked, “Would you girls be in the campaign? Jen, you’re Latina. And, Sarah, I see a bit of Native American in you.”
“A quarter Cherokee,” she replied proudly.
“There’s some of our mixed ethnicity Mark spoke of,” Lola said. She turned to Tiff. “You’re Italian, right?”
“Full-on paesana. Parents came straight from Italy to work on an olive farm and eventually own a mill.”
“So essentially,” Mark said, “we have the starting cast for the ad campaign in-house.”
He shot Lola a solid look with a crooked brow. Challenging her to step aboard this crazy train.
Her stomach suddenly churned. She skirted the issue at hand by simply saying, “If Sarah, Jen, and Tiff want to be in the ads, we can totally cast them.”
“And Lily from Sales is African American,” Sarah offered. “She’d be a great addition—she’s a thigh-high-boot girl, and I swear, no one owns the look the way she does. I’m so freakin’ jealous.”
That took Lola by surprise. She’d never guess Sarah had an envious bone in her body.
Jen’s gaze slid to Lola. “So, how about it?”
Her stomach churned itself right into a knot of nerves. “Not me,” she told them. “I want to be the creative behind the scenes, not a face in front of the camera.”
“That makes no sense,” Tiff scoffed. “You’d be incredible. You’re so… Renee Olstead in her ‘Sleepwalk’ vid, but with more of Marilyn’s body.”
Lola tensed, wishing Tiff had stopped at Renee and not tossed in the inevitable Marilyn reference. “This isn’t really my thing.”
“Think about it,” Sarah said as they left the restaurant. “It’s a killer idea.”
Lola didn’t want to let them down—and she didn’t want to write herself out of their clique. But sauntering across someone’s computer screen didn’t exactly sit right with her. Staci was fearless. In many respects, so was Lola. She just wasn’t okay with being on public display, so to speak. She knew better. And worried it would undermine the professional headway she was making when it came to getting people to see her for who she really was, rather than who they wanted to peg her for—Marilyn/Barbie-style.
* * *
Close to five o’clock, she texted Alex to say she’d bring home Chinese takeout. She came through the door after six and dropped off her oversized tote, then placed the plastic bags she carried on the counter. Alex sat at the kitchen table, working on his laptop.
“Taxes?” she ventured.
“Just finished them.” He closed the computer’s top and pushed it to the side.
Lola eyed him a moment, finding him damn tempting in nothing but a pair of gray drawstring pants. He was seriously hot, with his chiseled muscles and smooth, tanned skin. His hair was a bit mussed, as though he’d run a hand through it a few times while doing his accounting. She liked it.
And wanted to get naked with him again.
“Mind if I get comfortable?”