Rock Hard

“The designer we’re thinking of contracting. She sent over some samples.”

“Remind me.”

“Um, lots and lots of white gold and sapphires, filigree…”

“Right, right, very good stuff. Okay, book a table at the Cedar Lounge for just after one and –”

“It’s already booked. She said so could only meet at twelve, so that’s when it’s booked for.”

“Right, okay, I can work with that.”

Maddie lowered the clipboard she’d been holding up like a shield. Apparently, my assistant was under the impression I could throw daggers, as opposed to just stare them. There wasn’t much time before lunch, so I postponed choosing on the seasonal line, and focused on meeting prep. I still had three hours after all, but I like d to go in prepared.

“Drink?” Maddie asked.

“Green tea.”

She scampered off to make it and I took my place at the desk, revisiting the urge to turn around. As powerful as the view made me feel, I also got a bit dizzy from the height. It wouldn’t have been so bad, were the entire wall not basically a window, but as it was, I always felt like I was going to plummet to my death. Not the best state of mind for positive productivity.

Fawn Birch was an odd duck to be sure. For starters, she had been christened Amanda Collins, but took her ‘chosen name’ in her early 20s. Still, it couldn’t be denied the girl knew her jewelry, particularly when it came to stone contrast. Each of her designs had a look that was both ancient and modern at the same time. Unique and beautiful, exactly what Asgard Fine Jewelry was looking for.

The opportunity to meet the enigmatic artist came even sooner than expected. The Cedar Lounge was on the other side of the town, so I had to leave early to evade the lunchtime rush. Sounds strange for a city girl, but I really didn’t like massive crowds. It was within reason; I needn’t elect to always be alone. It was just when the dozens became hundreds that I started to get a bit edgy.

Twelve. Twelve diners already at the Cedar Lounge when I was seated. Just over a baker’s dozen with me and Fawn, assuming she wasn’t already there. There was every possibility she was in the bathroom. A fact which divided my attention between two doors while waiting her arrival. The front door was the one to finally deliver my lunching companion.

“Sorry I’m late, am I late?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“Oh, cool.”

The smell was strong but not unpleasant. Some kind of oil, likely rose, mixed with sage incense. More of a surprise was her hair, done in what could only be described as ‘battle braids.’ Her raven hair woven together in a way to evoke a warrior queen, more than a genteel creative type. Maybe she was both.

“I’d like to get right down to business, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.”

“I’m not usually this blunt, but your designs fit our brand perfectly. Ancient and primal, while also being modern and accessible.”

“Thanks, they’re a reflection of my soul.”

I didn’t laugh. Not only would have it been rude, but I also didn’t see anything particularly funny in her statement. Generally, I found the idea of souls silly at best, but there was something that happened when I saw Ragnar in the bandstand. Something was touched, something primal, that felt ancient but also a part of me. ‘Soul’ was as good a word as any.

“I want to use your work for our new seasonal line. I need six new designs, with six examples of each design in two months. Can you do that?”

“Sure! -I mean, yes, ma’am, I’ll get right on it.”

“Are you doing it yourself or do you have help?”

“I have help, I can get more if needed.”

“Marvelous, that’s what I like to hear.”

Part of the prep was drawing up the contract and running it by legal just to be double sure. I was fairly certain she would want to sign with the company, but it was always best not to assume. Assumptions were the mothers of all failures. At least in my experience.

The ink was barely dry when Fawn said she had to go, leaving at the same speed with which she had arrived. My two main jobs done for the day, I decided to enjoy the lunch I’d ordered. Especially since I was charging it to the company anyway, so there was no skin off my nose.

While I waited for my soup to cool, I decided to look up Ragnar’s band. An intention complicated by the fact I couldn’t quite remember what it was called. I’d only heard it the day before, but a lot had happened since then. According to what I could recall, it had been called Loki’s Laugh. A name that brought a smile to my lips.

Got it in one. I’d barely put in ‘Loki’s’ before predictive text took care of the rest. I had the search engine set to ‘all,’ and was hit with a bevy of videos, photos links to various music streaming sites. Ragnar sure looked different. Most people had dressed for the wedding, even me, but the distance between how I’d seen him, even earlier that day, and the version in the promo photos was big.