Chapter 2
WILLOW
“It’s not looking good.”
Jamie’s conclusion drives the nail even deeper into the core of the problem. It’s been almost a week since the charity gala, and despite all the business cards we handed out, not one new client has popped up. In fact, the opposite seems to be happening.
“We’ve lost three clients in two days,” I mumble, going over the emails again.
Our office is small but breezy, occupying the top western corner of a building in NoHo.
Jamie and I worked hard to turn it into a great workspace, considering the place was gutted down to the original brick when we first came in.
Now, off-white walls and walnut furniture with white and soft gold accents welcome us every day, with framed photos of our most successful events dotting the walls.
The morning sun beams through the window behind me, but there isn’t enough light in the world to drown out the darkness taking over my mood. I worked too damn hard to lose everything now.
“The Metzlers aren’t too sure about going forward with their engagement party either,” Jamie says, checking his phone after a familiar chime. “Crap.”
“No,” I gasp, wide-eyed, as I look up at him. “What are they saying?”
Jamie, my best friend since design school, has been by my side since I first got the idea of going into event planning.
I had the design mind, and he had the business know-how to make it work in an increasingly competitive market.
It made sense that we should join forces.
For the past two years, we’ve been designing and delivering some of the city’s most talked-about weddings and corporate events, theme parties, team-building experiences, and engagement and gender-reveal parties.
“Jacob Metzler was at the charity event last week,” Jamie says, his eyes darting across his phone screen. “And he got another offer from some boutique company from uptown, Steel Rose Inc.”
“Steel Rose Inc.,” I mutter. “That’s one of Sheila’s friends. I’ve heard that name before.”
“Yes, when the Adams people told us they didn’t need our services anymore.”
“Oh, God,” I says as I realize and run a hand through my hair. “Sheila’s behind this, isn’t she?”
“It sure sounds like it.”
“Jamie, I am so sorry.”
Jamie gives me a troubled look and takes his seat in one of the guest chairs across from my desk, straightening his dusty pink shirt and grey bow tie in the process.
“What the hell are you apologizing for, honey?” he asks matter-of-factly.
“It’s not your fault Sheila Madison-Morgan is a raging bitch. ”
“She’s costing us business,” I reply. “With three, now possibly four, contracts down, how the hell are we supposed to cover rent this winter?”
“We’ll figure it out,” he says, giving me a soft smile.
“I’m the one who’s sorry for freaking out the way I just did.
Remember, Will, we started from scratch, okay?
I worked my triple shifts at the Velvet Lounge to help with the bills and the office rent.
You bussed tables. We made it work. We handled it. ”
“But that was two years ago, Jamie. We’re supposed to be doing better.”
“We are. This is just a hiccup.”
“It’s more than a hiccup,” I grumble. “Sheila is going to great lengths to ruin me, and I don’t understand why. She got what she wanted. Terrence is dating a damn Vanderbilt. He doesn’t have to deal with fat ol’ me anymore—”
“Hey!” Jamie smacks his lips at me. “Don’t you fall for that nonsense. Come on, Will. You know better than that.”
“I do… I just…” I let out a frustrated groan and lean back into my chair.
“Dominic said he can send some parties our way,” Jamie says after a long, heavy pause.
“Nothing too big, but it’s better than nothing.
We’ll probably have to cut back on our regular fees, but we can charge extra for the drinks on the night of each event.
It should get us enough cash to move things around.
We still need to pay for those ice sculptures for the Hildebrand wedding in August.”
“And the floral arrangements from Holland,” I add. “The fee they paid upfront will have to cover our office rent now that we’ve lost three clients.”
“Maybe four.”
“Thank you for reminding me,” I bitterly snap. “At least your boyfriend’s a super trouper, sending us clients.”
“If he could also put a ring on this finger,” Jamie chuckles, raising his left hand, “I’d be even happier. But I’ll take his clients for now. You’re right, he’s being awesome.”
Another email comes through, this time on the agency’s main address. It’s from Ruth Metzler, and it starts with “Sorry to inform you.” My blood pressure plummets as I take a sip of coffee, followed by a long, deep breath.
“Make that four,” I grumble.
Jamie’s eyes pop out as he jumps from his seat and comes over to my side of the desk, so he can read the email for himself.
“That raggedy hag. I’ll bet you dollars to donuts, those pricks at Steel Rose Inc.
gave her a discount or something. We already had the best price on the market and a much better delivery time frame. ”
“I cannot let her win.”
“You won’t. We won’t,” he says. “Will, remember how hard we had it growing up the way we did.”
“I’ll never forget.”
“Right. My point is, we worked hard for this, Will. There’s no way I’m letting that bitter redheaded bitch ruin our business and our livelihood because she’s got some kind of personal grudge against you. No way.”
I offer Jamie a soft, heartfelt smile. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you saying that.”
“Together, always, through thick and thin.”
“Always.”
We bump fists just as the door opens and a courier pokes his head through. “Delivery for Miss Willow Bennett?”
“Sure, come in,” I say.
The courier comes in with a massive bouquet of roses, from which a gilded-framed note hangs by a satin bow. Jamie signs for the delivery, and I take custody of the flowers, breathing in their scent. I’m flooded with memories of my earliest childhood, before my parents passed away.
Mom had a rose garden, a small patch just outside our apartment building. It wasn’t much, but she loved it. The smell takes me back there, when life was pretty, easy, and so colorful.
“Holy smokes,” Jamie says as he admires the flowers. “Somebody means business, Willow. Who are they from?” He pauses and gasps with wonder. “Wait, don’t tell me…”
“I don’t know; hold on,” I reply and check the note. “Yep.”
“Give me that!” He snatches the note away and reads it aloud. “Dinner. Friday evening at 8 p.m. We’ll pick you up. Wear something tight.” Jamie pauses to giggle. “Signed, the Morgan brothers. Hot diggity.”
“I didn’t think they were serious,” I mutter.
But as enticed as I am by the prospect of seeing where this might lead with them, I’m also concerned by Sheila’s threat from the gala. She wanted me to stay away from the Morgans.
Jamie picks up on my frown. “Girl, what are you worried about? They’re showing intent. Isn’t that what you wanted in a guy? You’re getting it from three!”
“It is what I wanted. I just… I mean, it’s strange. One woman, three men. I get that polyamory isn’t the taboo it used to be, but still.”
“That’s not what this is about.” He sounds so confident.
I glare at him. “Oh, it isn’t? Enlighten me.”
“I saw you with them that night, Will. The chemistry was damn near palpable. And you’ve had a spring in your step since they dropped you off at home,” Jamie says with a casual shrug.
“I know a woman with a fire lit when I see one. And you deserve to be treated better, to be worshipped and wanted, especially after that prick Terrence. Why not let these guys do their thing? Why not let them woo you? They’re clearly interested. ”
My heart beats a little faster. Terrence and Sheila’s words cut so deep that I ended up doubting myself as a woman. All I ever wanted was to be loved, to belong. I thought Terrence was going to be the guy to do that, until he turned out to be a terrible man and an even worse fiancé.
“Sheila wouldn’t like that very much,” I say to Jamie. “And she’s done enough damage to our business for me to at least try to be cautious.”
“Oh, please. She’s not technically their mother. And since she’s already done said damage, what more could she do?”
“Remember, we’re partners in this business. I’m trying to look out for both of us,” I reply with a wry smile.
“We’ve weathered worse storms, Will. What are you going to do, let that shrew dictate the terms of your personal life? Where does it end then?”
He makes a fair point.
“All I’m saying, Will, is that you deserve freedom in your personal life. If you want to sit there and lick your wounds after Terrence, by all means, I’ll get us a tub of chocolate chip mint ice cream and give you a shoulder to cry on.”
“Funnily enough, I don’t feel like crying over him,” I confess. “It hurt a while back, when I realized Terrence would always resent me for being more successful, more dedicated—”
“More hard-working.”
“Yes,” I say and sigh deeply. “I don’t think I need to lick my wounds. I just need to move on.”
“And you’ve got three of New York’s most eligible bachelors eager to seduce you.”
“It’s weird.”
“But hot. Admit it.” Jamie laughs and reaches for his coffee.
I can’t help but give him another point here. “It is hot. I’m looking to build a relationship, though. How will that work with three guys?”
“You won’t know until you try it.”
“Wow, Jamie, you’d make one hell of a devil on any woman’s shoulder.”
Jamie gives me an evil grin, wiggling his perfect eyebrows for dramatic effect.
“Honey, I will pluck the wings off the angel on your other shoulder with tweezers, if that’s what it takes to see you happy.
” He pauses and leans forward. “Go on. Send them a text. Let them know the date is on. You know it’ll piss Terrence off the most. Forget Sheila.
Stick it to that bastard! He deserves it. ”
I nod and take my phone out. With trembling fingers, I let my heart do the talking for me.
Whoosh.