Chapter 4 Create Design Concepts
? Create Design Concepts
“We need to move fast on this. Which vendors are still available the last weekend of August? Let’s lock them in.”
Kami’s talking. Again.
She’s been talking. For two, three minutes now? Jordan lost count. Ever since the McClintocks and Amy left the conference room.
Ever since Jamie walked out.
Jordan should be the one talking. Rattling off fresh ideas to his boss. Making calls, scheduling appointments. He should be taking every little thing he now knows about Amy and Sam and crafting the most memorable day of their lives. Instead, he’s staring off into space.
“What themes are you considering?” Kami asks.
None, he wants to say. Not a single design concept comes to mind. He’s too focused on coming up with a way to get out of this mess.
It’s comical, really. The worst kind of irony.
Yesterday, he was preparing for the next step in his career. All he had to do was plan one damn wedding. Make it so grand, so marvelous, that Kami couldn’t look past him when promoting the next events manager.
It was too easy on paper. He should’ve known better.
“Jordan?”
He grimaces. “Y-yes?”
Kami’s eyes narrow. As if she suspects he’s a clone. Like the real Jordan has been taken hostage, bound and gagged, his kidnappers demanding a million-dollar ransom that no one’s willing to pay.
If only, he thinks.
“What’s going on?” Kami inquires.
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” Jordan says unconvincingly.
“I know you, Jordan.”
He scoffs. “That sounds presumptuous.”
Kami folds her arms across her chest. “I’ve been around your whole life.
I know when you’re hiding something. Like that time you told your teacher you couldn’t turn in the math homework you didn’t do because you left it on Uncle Tevin’s private jet.
Or when you and Denz almost burnt down my mom’s rosebush smoking a joint and you blamed it on a freak wildfire. Or the time you got drunk—”
Jordan raises his hands, palms out, surrendering. “Okay! Point made.”
God, working with family is the worst.
Kami waits impatiently for him to explain.
He sighs. “I’m—”
Not doing this, he almost says. But that’s not compelling enough.
His second option is: I’m moving to the Falkland Islands. Starting over. Following my lifelong goal to raise penguins.
Jordan rubs his forehead. The pain has finally started to dull. Then, he remembers why it hurts. The restroom door slamming into his face. Jamie kneeling in front of him, hands on Jordan’s cheeks, gentle concern in his eyes.
He’ll never survive an entire summer looking into those eyes.
There are other qualified employees at 24 Carter Gold to plan Sam and Amy’s wedding.
Like Eric, who’s already committed to two major events in the fall. And who has fourteen-month-old twins going through a terrible teething phase. One more project can’t hurt, right?
Or Kim and Connor. Usually they tackle the company’s more niche clients. Last month they organized Side Quest Con, the Southeast’s largest live action role-playing convention. Personally, Jordan thinks the happy couple would look great dressed as elves for their wedding day.
“Well?” Kami says.
Jordan’s so close to suggesting someone else. Anyone else. Instead, what comes out is “I didn’t know Jamie was the best man.”
She blinks, surprised. “He’s been friends with Amy forever.”
Yeah, Jordan’s heard.
Kami tugs on her thin gold necklace. At the end of it is a locket. Photos of Mikah and her boyfriend, Suraj, sit inside.
“I didn’t think it mattered that Jamie was the old friend who asked for a favor,” she adds.
Well, it does.
“It doesn’t,” he lies.
“Isn’t Jamie your friend too?”
Jordan hums noncommittally.
Kami laughs. “Jesus, all those summer sleepovers when you were younger. You, Denz, and Jamie. Always doing something you shouldn’t.”
Like eating pot brownies and practicing kissing, Jordan muses to himself.
Which is such a colossal fucking mistake.
Now it’s all he can think about: the faint pink across Jamie’s cheeks before their kiss. The satin navy pillowcase on the pillow Jordan pressed against his lap after. Staring up at Denz’s white ceiling for hours, trying to figure out why his body reacted that way.
It’d never done that before.
Not for a boy. Not for anyone.
Kami smiles fondly. “The three of you were inseparable.”
Jordan hates how true it is. Every late May through mid-August, it was him and Denz.
Thing One and Thing Two. Then, they became the Three Troublemakers when Jamie came around.
But sometimes it was only him and Jamie, in those late hours where laughter and vulnerability and sleep-deprived conversations exist.
Where secrets are born.
Once college came into the picture, things were different. Denz left for the University of Georgia. Jamie went to UNC-Chapel Hill. A year later, Jordan relocated to Los Angeles to attend UCLA.
During the school year, he’d FaceTime with Denz. Mostly when his cousin wasn’t busy with his boyfriend. Which was all the time.
Occasionally, Jamie would message Jordan.
Random hellos or show me LA DMs. Jordan always would.
Photos of him trying to stuff one of Diddy Riese’s famous ice cream sandwiches in his mouth.
Snapshots of Venice Beach at sunset. Santa Monica Pier lit up like a neon star against the night’s wine-dark sky.
In return, Jamie sent Snapchats of his hikes. Graham Memorial Hall, where he studied on weekends. Sporadic selfies: wavy brown hair going from long and curling around his ears to buzzed off, the laughter lines around his mouth deeper, the softness around his cheeks still unchanged.
Sometimes Jordan would reply instantly.
Sometimes it was days before he remembered, too caught in his own college experience.
He never avoided Jamie’s messages because of the kiss. Because of the confusion that came after. It just happened naturally.
“I figured you’d want to work with him,” Kami tells him.
Jordan swallows. “Of course. He’s … great.”
Great, confusing—same thing, right?
Kami still looks at him suspiciously.
He waves a hand around like he can pull the right words from the air for her. “This project is a big deal for the company,” he says. “I want it to be perfect. No distractions.”
“Why would Jamie be a distraction?”
“He’s not! That’s not what I mean!”
Volcanic heat spreads up Jordan’s throat. He didn’t mean to shout.
“What do you mean, then?” Kami asks.
Jordan’s shoulders fall. He has no clue. But he needs to tell her. Not every little detail. Just that he can’t do this wedding.
That he’ll fuck this up so badly if he’s stuck with Jamie Peters for the next three months.
God, he hopes walking away from an assignment Kami hand-selected him for won’t ruin his reputation with her too much.
There’s a knock on the conference room door before it slowly opens.
“Kamila,” Cheryl says, one hand on the knob. “Mr. Velasco is here.”
“Oh, great,” Kami says. “You can show him in, Auntie.”
Cheryl nods once, disappearing.
Kami turns back to Jordan. “Hold that thought, will you?”
Jordan plans to. He has nothing else to do now that he’s pulling out of the McClintock wedding.
The door opens again.
In walks a Latine man who looks around Jordan’s age, around his height too.
He’s striking. Neatly styled, dark curly hair.
Vibrant brown eyes, a well-groomed mustache and chin-strap beard.
His all-black tailored blazer and trousers flatter an already great silhouette.
The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, exposing hints of light sepia skin. Dimples appear around his smile.
“Good to see you again, Ms. Carter.”
His voice is rich and smooth, almost hypnotic.
Jordan’s seen him before. He can’t remember where. But there’s something about the confident way he holds his jaw.
“Great to see you too, Javier,” Kami says. “And, please, Kami is fine.”
His dimples deepen. “In that case: Javi works for me.”
Kami turns to Jordan. “Javi, this is Jordan, one of our other event coordinators.”
Javi offers his hand. “Yes. We’ve met before. Briefly.”
Jordan’s brow furrows as he shakes Javi’s hand. “We have?”
“Last year. At the mayor’s Valentine’s Day gala,” Javi says casually. “I believe your mom—”
It hits Jordan like an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler.
“You’re the guy my mom tried to set Denz up with!”
Javi’s laugh is as effortless as the suit he’s wearing. “I’m Javi. And yes, that happened.”
He releases Jordan’s hand. To Kami, he says, “I’m more known for my event management skills than my personal life, I assure you.”
“I’ve seen your work. You’re very talented,” Kami agrees. “It’s why I hired you.”
“Wait.” Jordan’s forehead wrinkles further. “He works … here?”
“Mm-hmm. With Kim and Connor splitting time between events and the company’s social media branding, we could use more coordinators to meet our clients’ needs,” Kami explains. “Javi comes highly recommended.”
“So, you poached from our competitor.”
Jordan doesn’t mean for it to come out as an accusation.
“I applied for the position,” Javi corrects. “I left Elite last month.”
Jordan blinks slowly. He tries to piece everything together.
When did Kami post a job opening? Why hadn’t she mentioned it? Mentioned him? And why the hell would she bring on someone from their biggest rival? A company whose owner has spent years not so subtly bad-mouthing their family’s legacy.
“A lot of important changes have happened in the last year,” Kami tells him. “I want to ensure we continue to grow. Javi’s experience will help with that.”
“Thank you, Ms. Car—” Javi pauses, dimples flexing. “I mean, Kami.”
Kami nods her approval.
Jordan wonders when he walked into an episode of Succession.
“I’m excited to start pulling my weight.” Javi’s eyes move around the conference room. “You and 24 Carter Gold have put on some incredible events over the years.”
“More than some,” Jordan grumbles.