Chapter 14 Des
DES
The photograph was hideous. Truly, spectacularly hideous.
Lena was blinking mid-eye roll. Dean was sticking bunny ears behind my head.
Davy looked like he was about to strangle his little bro.
Lulu had her whole sticky hand wrapped around my tie.
Tanner’s mouth gaped open mid-yell at his sons.
And I—forehead glistening with flop sweat, forced smile stretched like taffy—looked like a man being slowly devoured by four small, chaotic wolves.
But I couldn’t stop looking at it.
“Cute picture,” Craig says as he strides into my office, pencil behind his ear and notebook in hand.
I step back from the wall where it’s hung—a perfect position so anyone walking by can see it.
Craig gets up close, studying each face. He snorts to himself. “Never thought I’d see you willingly surrounded by kids.”
“It’s the dawn of a new day.”
“Is he giving the camera the finger?” Craig points at Dean’s finger sticking up behind my head.
“That’s an index finger. He was trying to give me bunny ears.”
“Nice.” Craig raises a fist in troublemaker solidarity with Dean.
Lisa, my senior copywriter, joins us in my office. Her wildly curly hair and boundless smile always help to put me in a good mood. She leans against Craig as she gazes at the picture. Craig is like a freestanding wall in that way.
“Aww. That’s so cute!” She clutches her heart. “So sweet.”
“I need to get a better one taken. That was a disaster, as you can tell.”
“Looks about right,” Lisa says. “We hired a photographer for family pictures. She shot for a half-hour, and we ended up with one usable picture where the kids were both looking at the camera and smiling.” A flash of frustration, not unlike the one I felt the other night, crosses her brow.
“Yeah, that looks like every family picture we ever tried to take. My dad’s face was so red one year because he’d been yelling at me and my brothers to shut the hell up,” Craig says.
“I figure this is as good as we’re going to get.
We’re going to hire a professional photographer for our holiday pictures.
” The lie comes out remarkably easily, but I tell myself I’m selling a story.
This fake family is just like mustard or cosmetics.
If we have to keep up this ruse by then, I think a family Christmas picture would make sense… and be nice.
The image was a disaster, sure, but it was mine. And it was real.
That was the part I kept coming back to.
It had felt real—everyone jostling to fit into frame, the exaggerated, rubbery expressions on the kids’ faces. That tangle of noise and life. The way Lulu had wormed into my lap without hesitation.
“Oh, now this is a good picture.” Lisa swipes the frame off my desk where I put mine and Tanner’s shot, the one Lena convinced us to take.
“Cute couple,” Craig says, easily peeking over Lisa’s shoulder. “Never thought I’d see the day when Max Desmond would settle down.”
“You’re so smart for not doing a wedding. Six years later, my mother-in-law and I are still salty with each other over a fight about napkin rings.” Lisa puts the frame back on the desk. “Married life suits you well, Des.”
Craig slowly steps back from Lisa so that she doesn’t collapse. He flops onto my leather couch, a spot where I’ve spent many a late night coming up with the perfect pitch. His legs are so long his knees bang into the coffee table. He is a man on stilts.
Tanner’s big, blue eyes gaze back at me from my desk, his lips curled slightly with a smile trying to cut through the frustration. He has beautiful lips—full, soft. And that permanent five o’clock shadow is giving him major sex appeal.
I still haven’t unpacked those feelings that’ve been coming up since marrying Tanner. Too many knots to tug on there.
“Enough mushy family talk. Let’s get down to business. How can we win this Silq pitch? We need to talk through ideas.” I pull a chair up to the coffee table, while Lisa joins Craig on the couch. “What’ve you got?”
As soon as I say that, I jump out of my chair. I can’t brainstorm sitting down, never could. Motion is how I do my best thinking.
“Silq is animal friendly and vegan friendly. We can push that angle. You’re not putting dangerous chemicals on your face,” Craig says.
“That’s not unique. Green is overdone.” I wheel over a markerboard and jot down “green.” Who knows what it could trigger in the future. “They’ll be hearing that from the other agencies. We need to offer something more emotional. Makeup is personal.”
I write “personal” and “emotional,” then underline both.
“I’m all for being eco-friendly, but I will gladly put toxic shit on my face if it’ll make me look younger and sexier.
” I love having Lisa in the room because she never shies away from honesty.
She was working at a call center before deciding to go to night school.
I took a chance on her, and it’s paid off.
“Makeup is about being sexy,” Craig offers.
“Not for everyone,” Lisa rebuts. “Women of all ages wear makeup. We’re forced by society, but we also like it. It’s our special armor. It’s something passed down from mothers to daughters.”
Lena and Lulu pop into my mind, causing my heart to dip. They won’t get to experience that tradition with their mother, and I hate the unfairness of that.
“Let’s try a different tack,” I say, still adding it to the board because there’s no such thing as a bad idea. “Something more universal. Makeup allows you to feel beautiful.”
“Or conceal.”
Lisa and I both turn to Craig as a big light bulb flashes over his floppy hair.
“What?” Craig asks. “My girlfriend uses concealer to cover up breakouts. She’s had me use it before, and that shit works.”
“We use makeup to conceal. To cover up…” I add it to the board. The idea hangs in the air, our minds working to build it out.
“To put our best face forward,” Lisa says, as the wheels spin in all of our heads.
We were hitting something here. Something bold and honest that Silq might actually bite on. If we landed this, I’d have Stan’s vote for sure.
I was mid-sentence when the door swung open and Kyle walked in like he owned the place.
Which he didn’t. Yet.
I flip the board to hide our brainstorm.
“Morning! I’m making a Starbucks run if you want anything.” The more friendly Kyle’s tone, the more suspicious I get.
“You’ve never asked for our Starbucks orders before,” I tell him.
“I’m being nice. Don’t be so paranoid.”
“I’m good,” Lisa says.
“Me, too,” says Craig. The three of us trade a look, confirming we have each other’s backs.
“Thanks for the offer, Kyle. If I were you, I wouldn’t get an Americano. You don’t want to have diarrhea in the office again. We weren’t able to use that bathroom for a week.”
“I got food poisoning from that kale salad, and it was very scary!” He sidles into my office. Were this caveman times, I’d pick him up and launch him into the hall. But I must be classy. He walks right up to my family picture. “Is this your new family?”
“Those are my husband and stepchildren, yes.” I stabilize my breath as he continues studying the picture.
“How’s it been? Big change, huh? Going from zero to four?”
“It’s been great,” I say simply.
“I’ll bet you miss that swanky condo. And is your half-naked friend doing okay?”
My jaw tightens. I resist the bait. I check my team to see their reactions, and they just roll their eyes. Luckily, Kyle has spewed so much bullshit that they aren’t phased.
Kyle tilts his head. “Must be hard, though. Getting used to their routines, their likes and dislikes. Allergies, bedtimes, favorite snacks…”
Still not taking it.
“We’re making it work,” I say.
He smirks. “Well, let me know if you need any pointers. I have three of my own.”
The room is dead silent. Kyle shows no signs of leaving.
“Interesting that this is the first time you’ve ever had a family picture up in your office, and right on a spot where everyone can see.” He looks over his shoulder at the direct line of sight into the hall.
“I’m a proud stepdad,” I say flatly.
“This framed picture doesn’t mesh at all with all the artwork you have hanging on this wall. As someone so into aesthetics, it seems off.” He chuckles to himself. “But what do I know?”
“Not much,” I shoot back.
“And it’s funny that this is the only picture you have of them, and it looks like it was recently taken.”
I dart my eyes to Craig and Lisa and see if they’re being swayed by Kyle’s questions.
“Have you ever tried wrangling a family photo with four kids, Kyle? I can barely get my two kids to sit still for one. This is a miracle,” Lisa says.
“And I like the picture more than the douchey art,” Craig says.
I whip my head to him, and he immediately turns red.
“Cool douchey art,” he tries to explain.
Lisa and Craig’s defenses have given me a spring in my step.
“We’re good on Starbucks, Kyle. Thanks anyway.” I shoot him a wink.
Yet before Kyle can go, he’s blocked by Stan, who can never turn down a chance to chitchat with coworkers.
“Nice picture.” Stan wears a tan suit with red bowtie and that ever-curious expression stamped on his joyful face.
He steps inside without waiting for an invitation and glances at the framed photo.
“Is that the family?”
It was happening. The test. Would this work on Stan? I smiled like it didn’t hurt. “Yep. The whole crew.”
“Looks…lively.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“I can’t wait to meet them. You should bring the brood by!” Kyle suggests. Whenever people would bring their kids to work, I’d hole up in my office to avoid the shouting and eventual crying.
“They have school,” I say, hoping that’s correct.
“That reminds me.” Stan turns and, without missing a beat, says, “I’ll be coming over Tuesday night for dinner.”
My heart dropped into my shoes.
“This Tuesday?” As in six days from now.
“Mm-hmm. If the offer still stands.”
“Yeah. Of course,” I say, the only acceptable answer.