Chapter 6 Kat
kat
“Are congratulations in order?”
I look up from my desk at the newly built headquarters of GameTech, to see my best friend and occasional boss, Logan Matthews, leaning against my doorframe, a cautious look of hopefulness on his face.
“That would be a yes,” I say, unable to keep the smile off mine.
I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing today.
Then again, when you start your day with an orgasm, it’s hard not to smile like a fool.
Add in the phone call I just got from Hazel, and that means this smile isn’t coming off my face for a long, long time.
“She loved my ideas and thinks I’m going to bring a completely different approach to their media campaign than they envisioned, but one they are very excited about. Once the holidays are over, she wants us to schedule a meeting to officially get things going.”
“Bravo,” Logan says, his British accent coming through. “Though, was it even a question that you’d get it?”
“I mean, it always is,” I say plainly. “The day that I assume I’m going to get every client is the day I need to take a hard look in the mirror. Nothing’s guaranteed.”
That’s the public relations statement coming out in me.
Logan’s eyebrow goes up, knowing me too well for my practiced speech. “But since you’ve started seeking work outside of GameTech, haven’t you gotten every one you’ve tried for?”
I give a nonchalant shrug. “I mean, technically yes. But who’s counting?”
We share a laugh as Logan takes a seat at one of the chairs on the other side of my desk. “Can you believe us?”
“In what way?”
He holds his hands up and looks around the glass-walled office he made sure I had when he officially moved GameTech’s operations from the West Coast to Nashville.
“This. Everything. SpaceCraft is on top of the world again. We’re expanding our game brands.
You have this place running so smoothly you can go back to chasing clients like you used to, but on your terms. We’re doing everything we ever wanted to do. ”
We really are. When Logan and I met in college, we were both wide-eyed, eighteen-year-olds with big dreams. He wanted to develop a video game that entertained the masses, and I wanted to be one of the best corporate publicists in the business.
It wasn’t an easy road to get here. The first office we had was our kitchen table, which we found at a yard sale for seven bucks. We had two mismatched chairs, but it’s where we sat every night as he talked about his game and I busted my ass trying to climb the ladder at my first corporate PR job.
I shiver just thinking about that place.
When I was in college, people in my major all wanted to be celebrity publicists. Live in Los Angeles. Work for A-list clients. Yes, you get invited to glamorous parties, but in exchange you spend most of your time making sure your clients don’t end up on Page Six for some sort of nefarious thing.
Frankly, that sounds exhausting.
Which is why I picked the area that I’ve excelled in—corporate PR. Working with million- and billion-dollar companies to cultivate a new product launch, or to completely shift the identity of the business to make them profitable? Now that’s my jam.
When SpaceCraft exploded onto the scene, and Logan formed the GameTech corporation, I was his first hire as head of media strategies.
Not only did he pull me from a horrible situation with my former job, but he gave me the freedom to be the best version of my corporate self.
I went from hating going to work every day to working for my best friend while helping him take his video game from a dream in our kitchen to a billion-dollar industry.
That’s why I got into this business, and that’s why I wanted to branch out. Knowing that I, as one woman, single handedly have done a job that companies sometimes hire an entire team to do? Now that’s a fucking power trip I’ll get off on any day.
It’s like giving a corporate blow job.
And of course now that I’m thinking of blow jobs, I’m thinking of Grayson, and the smile is right back on my face. I know I told him I couldn’t see him for a few days, but I’m technically free tonight. I wonder if he’d like another go round before we have to say our holiday goodbyes…
“Well, congratulations again,” Logan says. But just as he’s about to stand up, he sits right back down. “Oh, and I meant to ask you…any idea why my credit card was charged last night at the Omni Hotel? Did I stay there last night and forget about it?”
I’ve never had a great poker face, but even if I did, I don’t think I could hide my reaction.
If it was anyone else, I’d do my best to deflect and gaslight a bit—also known as Public Relations 101.
But because this is Logan, and there’s not a person on this planet who knows me better, I fess up. It’s really just easier.
“I might’ve used your room last night.”
“Might’ve? How might you have used it? Please Kat, I’d love to hear how one ‘might’ use a room?”
The Joker-esque grin on his face means he’s catching onto the smile that’s been on mine since the moment he walked in.
I know he’s fucking with me, baiting me a bit, but I’m going to let him have it.
I don’t date often enough for him to give me shit, and God knows I gave him plenty when he was pining for his now wife.
“I might’ve met someone at the speed dating event I went to. And things might’ve went very well.”
Why is my best friend’s face lighting up like the Christmas tree we currently have in our lobby?
“Kat! That’s amazing! Oh my God, we can double date!”
“Simmer down, Sparky,” I say, because the man really does look like he’s just opened his favorite Christmas present.
“Yes, we had a very nice time last night. And yes, we spent the night together. We both expressed interest in seeing each other again after the holidays. But that’s a long time away, so let’s temper our excitement, okay? ”
At least, that’s what I’m trying to do. Sure, I’ve been smiling from ear to ear today, but there’s the little voice on my shoulder that’s warning me not to get too far ahead of myself.
At the end of the day, I’m a realist, and I need to remember that.
Because sure, we had a great night, and an even better morning.
We exchanged numbers and shared a long kiss when we said goodbye.
But two weeks is a long time, and the holidays can make those weeks feel like months.
Minds could change. Things could happen.
So until that time comes, I’m going remain cautiously optimistic, with an emphasis on the cautiously.
“Well now I feel bad,” Logan says. “You’re traveling over the holidays because of me. Do you want me to call Declan at the Timberline Inn and tell him you can’t come?”
I shake my head. “Don’t you even dare. If Grayson can’t handle that sometimes my career comes first, it’s better for me to know that now rather than later.
Plus, he’s traveling to visit his family.
And I was looking for a few days of R&R.
I booked myself a room for the weekend at the Timberline before my meeting with him on Monday.
There’s a nearby spa that looks delightful, and I might even roast a marshmallow or two. ”
Logan apparently doesn’t care about my itinerary, instead deciding to focus on the first part of what I said.
“Grayson? I get to know his name? Usually when you start seeing someone, I’m only given a random nickname.”
I laugh because he’s right. “You love my nicknames.”
“I really do,” he says. “That’s probably the saddest part of you not dating since we’ve been in Nashville. I mean, hearing about men like Captain Sweatpants? The Lip Biter? Or maybe my favorite, Johnny Talks Alot? Now those were the days.”
I roll my eyes at that. I’m just glad that he didn’t bring up The Cheat. “Talks Alot was the last date I went on in Los Angeles almost two years ago, and somewhere, if you listen really hard, he’s now moved on to a presentation about why Blackberries are going to make a comeback.”
Logan laughs as he reaches into his suit jacket. “Well, I’m sorry again that you’re doing me this favor. And I hope that these can make up for it.”
I take the envelope from him. “What’s this?”
Logan gives me a warm smile. “Merry Christmas, Katherine.”
I can barely believe my eyes when he pulls out an airplane ticket, along with a card that says words I have to read a few times to make sure I’m seeing right.
“Logan! A one-week, all-inclusive vacation in St. Lucia? Why? No. This is too much.”
He shakes his head and holds up his hand as I try to give the envelope back to him. “Frankly it’s not enough.”
“Is this my Christmas gift? Because if so, then I drastically underspent.” And here I was thinking that I knocked it out of the park when I found a collection of vintage video game posters. “Why did you do this?”
“Because I can,” he says. “Partly because you’re doing me this favor by going to Timberline.
Declan’s a nice guy, and he wants to do right by his hotel.
Been in his family for a few generations.
I know this isn’t the kind of client you usually take on, but you going out there means the world to me. ”
“Is he talking to anyone else?”
Logan shakes his head. “I didn’t get that impression, but I didn’t ask, either.”
“No worries.” It was really just for my edification. Whether they are or not, I’m still going to give them the same level of presentation. “But Logan, going out to the Timberline Inn doesn’t warrant an extravagant trip.”
“It’s not just that,” he says, leaning over and grabbing my hands.
“The gift was happening no matter what, because you deserve it. You got my life and my company on track. You helped me navigate the toughest year of my life. You’ve been my best mate for more than ten years.
And I know that I’m not here without you.
This ticket, this vacation, is just a small thing I can do to say thank you. For everything.”
I don’t cry often, but dammit, he’s going to make me sniffly.
“I really don’t have words,” I say as I stand up and walk around the desk. “Thank you. For everything.”
He stands up, and we share a hug. I know a lot of times he’ll thank me for helping him navigate his business waters, and helping get SpaceCraft and GameTech to where they are today.
But I owe this man everything. If it weren’t for him, I’d be still working, and frankly, hating, my job in the corporate hustle and bustle.
Now he’s given me the job of my dreams and is allowing me the space to keep growing my business as well.
He’s supported me every step of the way.
I don’t know what luck was cast upon me the day we met—two awkward freshmen standing next to each other at orientation—but I’ll forever be eternally grateful for that day.
“You’re welcome,” he says as we pull away. “Now, please go enjoy yourself.”
“I’ll try,” I say sarcastically. “Three days at a quaint, rustic, hotel followed by seven days in paradise? How will I ever manage?”