Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
Santa Barbara was beautiful. I let Danuwoa hold my hand as we flew over the Pacific Ocean and a tiny island right off the coast before we landed. It was strictly platonic, and it did not make my frazzled mind even more confused. I did not like the way his hand encompassed mine. I was totally not lying…
The day was clear and sunny—that stereotypical California weather I’d grown up hearing about. The sea air was light, and a warm reprieve from Oklahoma’s humid summer.
A black SUV was waiting for us outside the hangar. Right then, the soundtrack to my biopic would have been “We Fly High,” because it was obvious and cheesy. The shot would be slo-mo and dramatic, the wind would catch my hair just right, and I would look at something by lowering my sunglasses a tad down my nose. In reality, no music played. Mr. Stevenson had a fire under his butt or something, because he snapped, “Hurry up,” and sped down the stairs.
I forgot my sunglasses, so I squinted in the bright sun, trying to hold on to the rail with one hand and shield my eyes with the other. I could feel Danuwoa’s hand hovering behind me, making sure I didn’t eat shit down the stairs and onto the tarmac.
Safely on the ground, I walked to get my pink duffel bag, but Danuwoa quickly looped it over the handle of his luggage and rolled it away to the car. We were relegated to the very back again, and this time I attempted a crab crawl to get in sideways without sticking my butt in Danuwoa’s face. Was it more dignified? Either way, I felt more embarrassed, since the way my thighs opened and closed as I moved over shimmied the fabric higher than what was polite. What could I say? I was a train wreck.
Danuwoa snickered and gave me a look that said, Really?
My eyes zeroed in on my kill: Come hither . For good measure, I snapped my hand like a crab claw.
He shook his head and laughed as he climbed in after me.
We drove away from the hangar along a field toward the freeway. The resort was only a few minutes away, and I was soaking it all in from my window. Mr. Stevenson was barking orders to someone on the phone, and I was grateful I wasn’t needed for small talk to keep him entertained.
The driver turned in to a cobblestone driveway and slowed around a huge three-tiered fountain full of succulents, not water. I guessed the drought really was bad here. It was breathtaking nonetheless. The Spanish hacienda–style facade was grand and elegant. The valets in their red vests came up to help with our luggage. I grabbed my duffel—I knew our contract included porter fees, but this looked like the kind of place you tipped for everything. Did the concierge send you in the right direction? Cash tip. Did the valet smile? Cash tip. I was low on funds, so I could handle getting my duffel to my own room for free.
“I have a meeting with the coordinator in fifteen minutes. I’m going to check in and drop this off. I have my cell if you need me.”
“Great,” Mr. Stevenson said with a nod. “Dan, I need you to help me with my phone. My emails aren’t syncing.”
I waved my goodbyes and walked inside the most palatial building I had ever been in. There were fuchsia orchids floating in water in long glass vases. It smelled clean and briny.
Key in hand, I walked down the corridor to the elevator. Floor three was just as beautiful as the lobby. The inside of my room was incredible. It was larger than both Joanna’s and my rooms back home combined. A large white cloud was the centerpiece of the room. It was a huge bed that looked so fluffy, all I wanted to do was get a running start and fling myself into its embrace.
I had no time. I freshened up in the bathroom, grabbed my backpack, and ran back downstairs. I was meeting Vivian, the on-site event coordinator, in the lobby for a tour and review of the final details.
I slowed my roll and took a calming breath before exiting the elevator. I didn’t want Vivian’s first impression of me to be a huffing and sweaty linebacker.
A tall Black woman stood in a navy suit; her locs were coiled into a chic bun on the top of her head.
“Hi.” I waved to her. “I’m Ember. Are you Vivian?”
“I am,” she said, her smile warm as she extended her hand to shake.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I hoped my handshake exuded the right amount of strength to show confidence. I did not want to give anyone a dead fish.
“If you would follow me this way, I’ll show you the event space and where you’ll be having dinner.”
We exited the building and walked around the property, past the gorgeous pool, to the Esparza Ballroom. Inside was the classroom setup Natalie had ordered with a stage and podium. Tables lined up in rows facing the stage, covered in long black tablecloths.
“Everything should be all set,” Vivian said, holding her clipboard.
I walked through the aisle breaking up the rows and double-checked the settings.
“Do you have more outlets? I think one extension cord won’t be enough for each row. I know how it is in class. Everyone uses their computers plugged in the whole time, and I don’t want anyone fighting for a plug.”
“I’ll have to double-check with our team to see what we have available. We have two weddings and another conference this week, so it’s busy.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Over here, we have the boxes that were delivered. The beach balls and books.”
Right. Those things. Mr. Stevenson wanted company-branded beach balls and a business book to be given away to each person as party favors.
“Perfect. Where will you have the coffee, water, and snacks set up in here?” I asked.
“Catering will bring those in tomorrow morning, but we usually do it by the door here so they don’t disrupt a meeting in progress.”
“I know in the contract the food and beverage order we have for breakfast is requested at eight a.m. I want to make sure the refreshment setup is done before we start at eight thirty a.m. Then have the snacks delivered before our first morning break at ten thirty.”
“It’s all handled. If we run into any problems, I’ll let you know, but this isn’t our first event.” She smiled in reassurance.
“This is my first event,” I admitted. “And I’m worried that a million things could go wrong.”
“Take my advice—worrying makes you suffer twice. And the things you usually anticipate going wrong are never the ones that do. It’s always something random. You just gotta roll with the punches. I’ll be here to help.”
“Thank you.” I was so grateful to have someone helping me so that I wasn’t alone. “We have a scheduled dinner tonight. Is that close by?” I asked.
“We have you on the terrace with the ocean view. The cocktail reception is at five p.m. and then dinner at six p.m. I can show you now if you’d like?”
“Yes, please.” The ocean breeze hit me in the face as we stepped outside into the sunshine. I would never get used to this, because this was just a temporary gift. I wanted to kick my orthopedic flats into the shrubs and take off running straight to the beach. Unfortunately, that would have to wait until we had our free evening.
The terrace was stunning, but nothing was ready.
“Do you think everything will be arranged by five? My boss is never late, and if I am messing up something, then he is sure to be early to see it.” I clutched the binder to my chest.
“I’m going to make a call to catering. The tables should have been brought out by now. It’s going to be fine,” Vivian reassured me, practically oozing calmness.
Natalie had selected a custom, themed cocktail for the evening. I was looking forward to taste testing it, but the bartender wasn’t here yet. We had an hour before everything had to be prepared and I could go back to my room to change.
I sat on the bench and waited for Vivian to get off the phone. Judging from her expression, it wasn’t good news.
“So, I have the tables and chairs being brought now. There was a slight snafu with one of the other events. I’m going to stay and help set up.”
“I’m staying too.” I got up from my seat, took my backpack off, and threw my hair into a bun.
“You don’t have to. I promise I can get it ready for you in time.” She placed her clipboard and blazer next to my backpack on the bench.
“It’ll be faster with another set of hands.”
A maintenance guy pushed a cart full of folded tables and chairs. We got to work arranging everything. I was sweating and aching from lifting the tables.
“Is housekeeping bringing those linens?” I asked.
“They should be on their way. It’s four twenty-five. Why don’t you freshen up? I have it handled here.”
“No way, I can’t leave.”
“You’re going to attend the dinner like that?” Vivian asked. I must have looked worse than I felt, but what choice did I have? I wasn’t a participant in this event. I was here to make sure it went off without a hitch, and this seemed like a big hitch. These tables were ugly and needed something to cover them.
The bartender wheeled his supplies up the ramp to set up. Hey, at least I could test this cocktail. Purely for quality’s sake. I hoped whatever was in it was strong.
Finally, two housekeepers wheeled carts carrying white linens folded in plastic bags. I took my cue from Vivian and ripped open a bag and shook out the tablecloths, throwing them on the tables, while the housekeepers stayed to straighten them.
There were 120 people arriving in minutes, and the flowers were nowhere to be found.
“I thought you had an on-site florist?”
“Weddings,” Vivian huffed.
“We need something to go on these tables. They look plain.”
“Ladies?” Vivian asked the housekeepers. “Can you grab a few of the vases of orchids from the lobby? Start with the ones atop the fireplace first. If we need more, we can take from the centerpiece.”
The two young women set off with their empty carts. “Quickly, please!” Vivian called after them.
“I have some drinks ready,” the bartender called over.
“Great!” Vivian headed to the bar and started sipping an Ocean Breeze.
“Thank you,” I said as I lifted the cold glass to my lips. It looked like blue Kool-Aid, packed with ice and an orange slice and tiny decorative umbrella peeking out. It was disgusting, but the young bartender looked so hopeful. I hid my grimace and stole a glance at Vivian. Her face said it all. It was nasty.
Maybe a pregnant woman, such as Natalie, with questionable cravings was not the best person to pick out a custom cocktail. Thankfully there was surf and turf for dinner. I’d never had lobster tail before, and I couldn’t wait to try it. Hopefully the rest of the company was as forgiving of the foul drink.
The housekeepers returned with enough of the orchids to make the terrace look beautiful.
Vivian led me back to the bench. “I am so sorry about the flowers and the cocktail. I won’t charge you for the use of the lobby flowers, and I can ask Devin to mix something else.”
“A new drink would be great, or can he simplify that mix? Remove a few flavors?”
“I’ll handle it—”
“Ember!” Mr. Stevenson’s voice boomed through the terrace.
I had run out of time. I couldn’t even put my hair down. I stuck a smile on my face and turned around, hoping he was in a good mood. “Hi, Mr. Stevenson.”
“This looks great. Excellent work. Point me to the bar.” He snapped his fingers, pointing at me like they were guns. Danuwoa trailed behind him, still rolling his suitcase and hiking his backpack higher on his shoulders.
“Right this way.” I ushered Mr. Stevenson to Devin and hoped the toned-down cocktail tasted better. I stepped beside Danuwoa and shouldered him. “You didn’t get to check in?”
“I haven’t even had time to use the bathroom.”
I took the handle of his suitcase, my hand brushing his. I ignored the little flutter in my stomach at the contact. “Go, go. I got this.”
He nodded with a grateful smile and went down the corridor to the bathroom.
I wheeled his luggage over to the bench that housed my backpack. I squatted down, pretending to get something from my pocket, and did a little sniff test of my pits. Creator had mercy, for I was stink-free.
People started arriving. I recognized only a handful; the rest were complete strangers from different office locations. I wanted to shrink within myself and escape. I didn’t want to be here. I was not a schmoozer. I liked numbers. Basic cost and profit equations. I never wanted to do this.
“Hey, Ember!” Kyle waved to me; he was standing with Jacqueline. I had only seen our legal counsel’s tiny photograph on her email profile. In person, even from several yards away across the terrace, she was stunning. The typical southern belle debutante, big golden curls and a perfect smile. Kyle excused himself and approached me.
“Excellent work on the venue.”
“Natalie planned mostly everything before she had the baby.”
“Well, it’s you here, take the credit.” He laughed and gently nudged my arm with his fist.
Taking the credit for someone else’s planning and work did not sit right with me. Without knowing what to say and not wanting to be alone in a crowd of colleagues, I just nodded.
“Thanks for looking after that.” Danuwoa returned, smiling at me. “Want to get in line and grab a drink?”
“Some firewater, as your people say, right? Light me up!” Kyle answered as if he had been the one asked. “Glad you’re here, Dan—my laptop is bugging. If I have more than two spreadsheets open, it freezes. Can you look it over tonight?”
Danuwoa answered, “Yeah sure.” But I could feel the tension in his chest. He looked exhausted and hungry, and as the only company IT person on-site, he would have his hands full.
“Let’s get that drink.” I tugged Danuwoa’s hand and walked to the queue, waiting for Devin’s blue concoction. Kyle was behind us, but he was already shaking hands and slapping chests with his office bros.
Seating was not assigned for our plated meal, but it was obvious that Danuwoa and I were the odd ones out. Everyone formed their cliques, chatting and laughing. We hung back, sipping the much-improved blue drink.
“Why don’t you go mingle?” he asked me.
“Why don’t you? You actually know these people,” I countered.
“Ah, I know them, so I avoid them.”
I snorted. “Are they that bad?”
“Nah, in the office everyone’s fine. It’s when people drink and throw their phones or computers at me nonstop that gets tiring.”
“Can we sneak out and get ready for tomorrow?”
“Hell nah, Mr. Stevenson will be looking for us. We have to finalize this PowerPoint. He changes everything the night before.”
I was dead tired. The time difference was only two hours, but this dinner felt like it was dragging on toward 10:00 p.m., when it was getting closer to 8:00 p.m. Pacific time.
“It’ll be fine. He just likes company while he writes his notes. I mostly search for free images to put on the screen.”
“I still have to blow up all the beach balls. And fill the goody bags and stuff the name-tag lanyards with everyone’s printed name cards.” The to-do list was never-ending.
Cocktail hour was wrapping up as servers started bringing out plates of food. Everyone saw the cue and began heading over to the tables. Danuwoa and I snagged a round table toward the back.
The food looked magical. The melted butter and garlic reached my nose, and my mouth was salivating. I couldn’t wait to dive in. I cut off a piece of the lobster on my plate and eagerly shoved it in my mouth. I started chewing and chewing and chewing. It was not what I was expecting, and I forced myself to swallow it.
“You like the lobster tail?” Danuwoa asked me as he cut into his steak. It grounded me, reminding me to be in the moment.
“Is it ungrateful to say no?” It was kind of chewy and fishy. I know—this from a girl who loved fish sticks and ketchup.
Danuwoa just laughed, the sound like music that floated along with the ocean waves. It gave me chills, and I lied, telling myself it was from the cool air.
Tomorrow was an early day. I got a three-dollar face mask from the grocery store to put on before bed. I couldn’t wait to sink into that squishy bed and relax. There was a full bathroom, and I could even take a bath. This thought was the only thing keeping me going while dinner wrapped up and people started breaking off for bed.
Mr. Stevenson stood from his table and looked at Danuwoa and me. We got the hint. It was time to get to work. We grabbed our stuff to meet our boss, who was looking at the pool. Young women were hanging out in pink bikinis, except one in all white. A bachelorette party. It was creepy he was just standing there in the night watching them. It was a five-star resort, and that’s what people did at the pool. They wore bikinis. But there was something cringey about an older man in his khakis and button-down just standing there on the path full-on gawking.
“Ready, Mr. Stevenson?” I was really glad it was Danuwoa to alert him of our presence.
The cheeky guy turned around and winked at Danuwoa. I was so ready for the night to be over. Creepy fucking men. It never mattered if they were old, young, rich, poor. You could count on them being creepy. But Danuwoa was different. He didn’t spare a glance at the bachelorettes at the pool. He kept walking toward the ballroom, our event space. Maybe there was hope for men after all.
Danuwoa and Mr. Stevenson huddled together at one of the tables, murmuring about the presentation.
I, in my pencil skirt, sat on the floor blowing up fifty beach balls. The name tags were done and laid out. Each seat had the Ask for Forgiveness Later business book, and vouchers. If they finished reading it, Mr. Stevenson would pay them fifty dollars. I guessed that was a sign that he loved the book and believed everyone had to read it? I was wary of self-help books, especially ones that touted taking advantage of situations. My people were historically always the ones getting taken advantage of for individual, corporate, and government monetary gain.
It was ten local time, so my body was slowing down. I pumped the last rainbow beach ball and felt my energy levels deflate to the lowest they had been in a very long time.
“Get to bed, Ember,” Mr. Stevenson said gruffly.
“No, I’m okay. I can help.”
“Dan and I are almost done. See you in the morning.” Mr. Stevenson went back to reviewing his notes.
Danuwoa looked less tired after dinner, like the meal had revived him. But I could see the long day was having an effect on his demeanor. He was slouched and hid a yawn behind the back of his hand before waving me off.
I bid my farewells and trudged my way back to my hotel room at last.