But then, there are nights like this.
It’s the South Beach Agency Awards, which is about as close to the Grammys as it comes in our industry. Just like the event I went to with Brandon in Atlanta as his intern, only the best of the best are invited to the SBAA. This is where you learn who is at the top of the game, be it events, advertising, weddings, corporate conventions, or any other creative space.
And if you’re invited, you better have enough sense to dress all the way up.
Since the Ball & Pen Miami branch just opened in the first quarter, we’re not nominated for any of the awards tonight. But thanks to my memorable launch event, Celeste received two shiny gold tickets as an invitation to the festivities.
One for her, and one for me.
I would have dressed up regardless, but going through the nominees on the website and seeing that Okay, Cool was up for both Best Pop Up Event and Best Brand Engagement Event, I knew Brandon would be here.
With that in mind, I went all out.
My silky red dress is custom-made, floor-length, and strapless with a delicate loop of fabric draped across my left arm. It has a pearl-accented bust and a highly tapered waist that accentuates my figure and gives it even more of an hourglass shape, especially the way the fabric rouches around my hips and drapes down elegantly to the floor. Of course, there’s a long slit, just enough for my freshly tanned legs to peek through as I walk. And each time, my pearl and Swarovski crystal-covered heels glimmer in the chandelier light.
My hair waterfalls over one shoulder in elegant curls, my highlights fresh and shiny, and my makeup is done to perfection. My lashes are black and thick, accented with falsies, my lips are painted a bright matte red to match my dress, and my eyes are smokey and sultry. Each accessory I picked out is tasteful, just enough to add to the outfit without detracting from it.
I felt it when I left the house, and I feel it even more now as Celeste and I walk through the crowd, stopping to say hello and chat every now and then.
All eyes are on me.
I feel like a siren, a vixen, a witch. I keep my eyes non-focused for the most part, trained on Celeste as we walk and talk, or perhaps on taking in the scenery. But the moment I drop my gaze to a man or woman staring at me, all the blood rushes to their cheeks, and they falter for a smile or a nod of their head or a quiet, subdued hello.
There are many ways for a woman to feel powerful, and I don’t care what anyone says — wearing a badass dress and heels is one of them.
“We’ll be here again next year,” Celeste says softly to me as we walk, a smile on her face as she nods to groups as we pass. “Only next year, we’ll have a dozen nominations. Mark my words.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it.”
“One of them will be Best Launch Event,” she adds with a smirk. “You know I’m still getting calls requesting co-ops.”
“The more the merrier, right?”
“You’re going to be a very busy woman, Ashlei. I hope you’re ready for it.”
I smile, and not just at her insinuation, but at the pair of warm brown eyes I just caught staring at me from across the ballroom.
“Born ready.”
Brandon is standing in a small group next to a cocktail table, a drink in his hand and the same woman at his side who was with him at our launch event. He looks absolutely delectable in his beige suit, tailored to perfection as always. I don’t have to be close to him to know it’s designer and expensive as fuck, that the shoes on his feet probably cost more than my entire outfit combined, and that he’s wearing a Rolex watch worth more than any car I’ve ever owned.
I also don’t have to be close to him to see that the sight of me knocked the breath from his chest.
It’s in the way he’s holding his glass — a little too tight, a little too close to his chest — and in the way his brows are furrowed, his jaw set, his eyes ablaze where they watch me move across the room.
“Excuse me, Celeste,” I say. “I’m going to freshen up.”
She nods, and we part ways — her joining one group while I slowly make my way toward Brandon. He watches me the entire way, and I think I even see him shake his head subtly, as if to warn me.
Don’t do this.
Don’t try me.
But it’s all I want to do.
Someone else in the group notices as I approach, and his brow arches, his conversation cutting off right in the middle of whatever he was saying — which, of course, makes the rest of the group turn my way, too.