Room for Love

“Well, let’s not all be as useless as tits on a boar. I’ll open it.” Natalie picked at one of the taped corners as Harper, Jules and Annie stood by, silently watching. “Oh my,” she said, tearing the paper free. “Oh my goodness.”

With a loud swoosh, she unveiled the treasure beneath the wrapping: a gigantic blow-up of the new Target magazine cover. Marty and his jaunty black beret were suddenly larger than life in front of them.

“Where the hell does he expect me to put that monstrosity?” Annie grumbled.

Jules gently nudged her. “Reception area, wasn’t it?”

“If that’s what he wants, just do it,” Natalie said, dismissing any other notion with the wave of her hand. “Ask questions later.”

Annie looked for a hammer and nail to hang the commander in chief’s giant mural while Harper redid the Sematek presentation with the sky blue report covers. Once the boardroom met her approval, she returned to her office to prepare for the pivotal pitch.

“Holy crap! Did you see the size of that thing?” Harper’s pal Kenny, Double D’s junior writer, stood in her threshold as he pointed toward the reception area. “Saddam Hussein never had a public shrine that ginormous.”

“It’s a beaut, ain’t it?” She continued applying a fresh coat of lipstick. “I’m surprised it isn’t autographed.”

“…Yet!” They both finished in chorus.

Kenny disappeared into his office across the hall, flicked on his desk lamp, then returned to Harper’s doorway. “Hopefully, it’s not too late to order wallet-sized prints. Or maybe turn it into this year’s holiday card?”

She froze. “Don’t you dare mention it at our next production meeting or else you know Marty will make it happen.”

“You look nice,” he said. “Ready for the big pitch? Got the muffins?”

She rolled her eyes. “Scones, actually, but yes, I found one. And it better be frickin’ amazing because trust me, it was no easy feat to get.”

“Harp! Nat! They just pulled up!” Jules announced from her upstairs office, which had a view of the parking lot below.

Harper exhaled. “Showtime.”

“Don’t sweat it. You’ll be great,” Kenny said. “Good luck.”

She gathered her files into a soft leather meeting portfolio, gripped her favorite black ballpoint, and waited for her cue to join the group. A din of voices, footsteps, clanging coat hangers and bumping briefcases lasted mere moments before they moved into the boardroom and the heavy glass doors swept closed behind them. Annie teetered up the stairs from the staff lounge, balancing a tray of brimming coffee mugs and the plate of scones. “You’re on, kiddo.”

Taking a deep breath, Harper stood and smoothed her hand across the front of her skirt. She straightened the buttons of her crisp blouse to ensure she looked her presentable best and nervously tucked her hair behind one ear. This is it.

As Harper approached the boardroom, she saw Natalie faced away from the doors, her arms awkwardly contorted above her head “–like this, and then he turned it around so it looked like a giant snail!” Natalie hooted, followed by laughter that echoed beyond the room.

Wearing a confident smile to mask her embarrassment, Harper pulled the door handle and strode inside to join Marty, Natalie, Jules and Scott, Double D’s art director. As she glanced across the table to make her acquaintance with Sematek’s Product Development Manager, her breath caught in her throat.

Bluetooth Guy.

“Harper Bukoski, our senior writer,” Marty said. “Harpie, this is Jed Sanderson.”

Bluetooth Guy is Jed Fucking Sanderson? Fuuuck!

Looking equally baffled, Jed extended his hand. “Harper? Well, it’s certainly nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Likewise, Jed,” she squeaked, guardedly accepting his handshake under Marty’s watchful eye. Kill. Me. Now.

She took her seat at the table and closed her eyes, hoping that when she forced them open, she would awaken from this terrible dream. No such luck. She blinked to see Annie dispersing the coffees and placing the scones in front of their esteemed guest.

“Please, Jed, help yourself,” Jules said. “Marty mentioned that you’re particularly fond of the cinnamon chip.”

“That I am, Jules,” he said, shifting forward. “But you know, I’ve recently heard raves about the blueberry ones too. Been dying to give ’em a try.”

Harper gaped in disbelief as Jed’s hand hovered above the plate, then deliberately zeroed in on a blueberry scone. You jackass.

He looked straight at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Thanks. This looks great.”

For the sake of preserving the shred of professional decorum she had left, she shut her mouth and swallowed her pride, hoping it would not leave a lasting, bitter taste.