Chapter 7 Brandon
brANDON
“Yep. Just tweak that color—” I point to where I’m talking about, “—and then run through it again.”
“I can do that.”
“Thanks, Hollis,” I tell him and head back toward my office.
I’ve been doing everything I can today to stay busy knowing Angie is set to stop by so we can get started on marketing.
Avoiding my mom’s phone calls has been one of the things I’ve tasked myself with doing.
I can’t keep secrets from her so avoiding her phone calls with the excuse that I have meetings all week has been my mantra.
“Brandon, how’s the marketing going?” Jerry asks, catching me on my way back to my office.
“Um,” I start, pulling out my phone to see if I have any messages, “hopefully gonna start brainstorming today.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he says and pats me on the back. “Well, keep me updated.”
Jerry rushes away to his next stop before I can respond, and I round the corner into my office to see the comforting blonde head of hair, belonging to someone I’m becoming quite familiar with, occupying the seat in front of my desk.
“Hey, you,” I greet and shut my door to a crack—keeping my promise and all that. I figure if the door is somewhat open, I won’t be tempted to kiss her. Instead of taking the seat next to her, I move over to the table that’s in the corner of my office.
“Hi,” Angie says as she looks up at me with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It’s easy to see that she’s just as nervous about us working together as I am. Plus, there's me avoiding phone calls like it’s an Olympic sport. So that’s got me extra jumpy.
“I have everything set up here,” I tell her as I point to the table with printouts of past marketing campaigns.
She unfolds herself from the chair, sets her bag where she was sitting, and crosses the short distance to the table that I’m sitting at.
Even with the summer weather, I notice she’s wearing black boots.
In fact, her entire outfit leans toward darker clothes as if they’re part of who she is and not because she’s following a trend.
Maybe that’s what draws me to her. She doesn’t follow the seasonal trends like everyone else.
Plus, the way she carries herself—with a confidence that’s also timid.
Angie’s soft honey scent, which is a surprise given her clothes, floods my senses, and I have to do everything in my power to keep from pulling her in for an unsolicited hug and burying my nose in her hair.
I look over at her to see her looking at me expectantly. “I’m sorry. What was it you asked?”
A smile teases at the corners of her mouth and the blush that spreads across her cheeks makes me want to punch the air in victory.
Me, flustered, and her, unused to someone blatantly staring at her.
That’s a win if I say so myself. “I asked if these are all the past campaigns and if you have an idea of the color scheme you want to go with.”
“Color scheme?”
“Yeah, like branding. Every brand has something in its logo that stands out. Think of Philadelphia's baseball and football teams. They all have those colors and their team logos that scream what they represent.”
“Oh,” I say dumbfoundedly. “I guess I should’ve gotten all that first.”
Her body shakes with quiet laughter. “Don’t worry about it. Most guys don’t worry too much about colors. But that’s okay since we’re starting from scratch. I also assume you have no clue if your company has social media accounts?”
My eyes are wide as she looks at me, which causes a surprised bite of laughter to escape her. It’s no longer quiet, silently shaking her body, but it’s free. And just that tiny tease of sound is like music to my ears.
“What do you know?” she asks this time.
I scratch the back of my head and shrug.
“You’re hopeless. Okay, your job to make my job easier, is to get the colors that basically define your game since I know nothing about it, the games that are similar to yours so we can begin to draw in an audience who like those games, and to find out if your company has any social media accounts—which I’m guessing they do because just about every business everywhere is on a social media platform. ”
I nod after writing each one down on a sticky note. “Okay. Got it.”
Angie’s forehead scrunches as she looks back down at what’s been done for the past campaigns. “Do you remember how any of these went? Like if the marketing paid off for the games?”
“I guess they did fairly well,” I say with a shrug.
“Hmm. Okay, at least I know what to work with,” she says offhandedly.
I don’t bother with a response, but I do watch her as she continues to flip through what has been done and the examples I brought in from other companies' launches. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a braid, with pieces falling around her face, and in my office light, I can see several shades of blonde that weave together to create her perfect Angie shade. She doesn’t have a stitch of makeup on, but I can see a light smattering of freckles that dot the bridge of her nose and fan out on her cheeks.
Her bottom lip is tucked under her teeth as she thinks and it’s the most fascinating thing to see.
In fact, the whole scene makes her look younger than she is.
“Brandon?” she asks.
I snap my eyes over to her to see her still looking at the past campaigns. “Yes?”
“Stop staring at me,” she chastises.
“As you wish.”
Angie sits back in her chair and I watch as she works something over in her head. “Well, this has been fun. But it’s time I go.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her why or to have her stay the rest of the day. Because I just want her around. But I’ve already gotten lax with having Angie here and sometimes my family has been known to stop by when they’re in the area—especially when I continue to dodge their calls.
“Okay.” I nod and gather up the graphics. “What are you up to for the rest of the day?”
“This sounds like something a boyfriend would ask.”
“You never know. One day, I may be.”
Angie pushes her chair back, but I don’t miss the smile that lifts her cheeks.
Brandon - 1
Angie - 0
“I’m sure you’ll hear me when you leave your office for the day.”
“Huh?” I ask her back as she grabs her bag off the chair she was sitting in earlier.
She puts her hand on the door handle and turns to look at me.
During this time of day, the afternoon light casts my office in a natural light, which does amazing things for Angie.
Her blue eyes look almost silver as the rays bounce off the floor.
Call me a simp, but I just want to take a picture of them so I can stare without her calling me out.
“You’re smart. You wouldn’t have this job if you weren’t.” Her lips purse in a small smile at my puzzled look. “That’s me answering you about what I’m up to for the rest of the day. Goodbye, Brandon.”
“Bye,” I respond, but she’s already left my office, not giving me a chance to walk her out. Which is probably smart.
Shaking my head, I gather up the rest of the past campaigns, drop them into a folder, then place them in my desk drawer.
I wake my computer up to a few emails that need some attention.
It’s good because after having Angie here, I almost want to take off the rest of the day and spend my time with her. And that’s something I’ve never done.
A knock on my door startles me after being in an hour-long meeting. I look up with a furrowed brow to see Carter standing in the doorway.
“What happened to you?”
“Meetings,” I say with a groan and toss my glasses on my desk. I take a look at the clock and realize it’s been hours since Angie was here and that it’s about time to head home for the day.
“You had your marketing meeting?” Carter asks as he comes in and sits in the chair across from my desk. Coincidentally, the one Angie sat in. How weird would it be if I asked him to sit in the other chair?
“Yeah.”
“How did it go? Are you using someone in-house?”
“We’re still at square one. And no, I’m not using someone in-house.”
His head turns inquisitively. I know he wants to know. I want to tell him. But I’m strangely protective of her.
“It’s someone that I know who’s going to help with the marketing.”
“That blonde who was here earlier?”
I may give Carter a lot of shit, but he’s one of the smartest and most attentive people I know. Not a lot gets past him, so knowing he saw Angie leave earlier sends my hackles rising.
But I give him an answer, because he’s my best friend and teammate. “Yeah.”
“Is that really a smart idea?”
My eyes fly up to him, and I see his eyebrows raised in accusation. “No.”
Carter leans forward, and I’m anticipating a lecture that anyone else would give me. “I won’t tell you not to do something. But I will tell you to be careful.”
“Why do I have to be careful?”
“Come on, Brandon. You think I don’t know who she is? If your family finds out, the fallout from that would ruin you. Ruin your family. And I don’t think that’s something you’re prepared for.”
I sit back in my chair and bite on the inside of my bottom lip, all the while looking at my friend.
He’s right. I know he is. When he would come home with me on quick breaks from school, my family would always have some sort of gathering at the house.
Carter was folded into the Hayes family rather quickly.
So he understood the dynamics that played out around us involving the Rawlins, the Taylors, and the Bailey family.
The older kids stuck together and even though they are my brothers, back then it was hard to find any common ground with them.
“She called me out on it, but…”
“But you’re hooked?” Carter asks, interrupting me.
“Yeah,” I sigh, “it’s still up in the air for her.”
Carter shakes his head and raps his knuckles on my desk before standing up. “Well, it still stands to be careful.”
“I will. And thank you.”
“What are friends for?” he says rhetorically. “Anyways, I’m out for the night. See you tomorrow.”
With a head nod, he’s out the door. I turn in my chair toward the window.
The sun is still heating up downtown as evident by the heat being absorbed by the windows.
But beyond that, I think about what Carter said.
I have weighed every option in pursuing Angie and the consequences of burning a bridge with my family.
I’ll be devastated if my family revolts against her and me together.
I understand it, but no one has sparked a lick of life in me like she has.
And it’s with that notion that I shut down my computer for the night and head out to find her.
I join the after-work crowd as I shuffle out of the building.
Heading somewhere. Heading nowhere. All Angie said was that I could probably hear her.
So, I slow my steps and calm my breathing—I listen.
Between the chatter of groups, acceleration of vehicles, and overall city noise—I hear the faint sounds of a piano in the distance.
I look around as if someone called my name, before I decide to head in the direction I was already headed.
Ever since that first instance of heading to the TapHouse with my team, I’ve thrown off my routine all for the sake of seeing Angie. Why? What draws me to her so much that I ignore what I’ve always done?
Step by step, the sound from the piano gets clearer and louder.
And with each step, my heart thuds in my chest at what I’ll find.
I head toward the center of the business district that holds all sorts of events, from movie nights, paint nights, and a singular piano.
That blonde head of hair I’ve become so transfixed with swaying as she moves to the music she’s playing.
When I take my eyes off her, I notice tables filling up and a crowd starting to form.
And as I get closer, I can see why. She’s lost in the music that’s flowing from her fingertips.
You can’t tell when one song ends or if she’s just playing extended versions of it because she keeps playing.
But in the midst of her playing, I recognize the song that has been on a loop in my head since I heard it on her social media. It’s a hauntingly beautiful song.
Angie’s eyes are closed in concentration, her lips go from being pursed to tucked between her teeth. She never loses her focus. She never hits the wrong key. She’s utterly flawless on the piano that’s almost like an extension of her.
I’m so hypnotized by her that the sounds of clapping startle me.
I look around and back to Angie to see her hands have come off the ivory and black keys.
She sits on the bench, motionless until she picks her head up, and a blush covers her cheeks at the amount of attention she’s receiving.
I stay just out of view and when our eyes finally clash, my heartbeat rackets up.
The organ I thought would never become a cliche around someone has proven me wrong.
Angie smiles at those who are still around until she gathers up her bag and slowly makes her way over to me. As she gets closer, I notice the light sheen of sweat covering her body and the pinkening of her nose—it makes me wonder how long she’s been out here if our meeting finished hours ago.
“Hi,” she greets me when she stops in front of me.
“Hey.”