Ashlei
Things couldn’t be more perfect.
On this warm February evening in South Florida, a gentle breeze rolling in from the water and brushing my long, curled locks off my neck, it’s impossible not to feel proud as I look around at the Ball & Pen launch event.
That I planned.
That I coordinated.
That I was one-hundred percent completely in charge of.
And that’s going off without a hitch.
At first, I was bummed when we couldn’t secure a yacht like I’d envisioned, but everything happens for a reason. In lieu of being on the water, we have a sweeping view of it — plus a dramatic outline of the downtown skyline as the last of the sun sinks over the horizon.
Not only did I book one of the most romantic, intimate rooftops in the city for the event, but my team and I completely transformed it. Dramatic red uplights and canopy-draped silk took what once was just a rooftop with a pool, a bar, and plenty of space to a high-end carnival.
Games of all kinds line the left edge of the pool, except instead of winning a giant stuffed teddy bear, guests could win a cocktail, or a dress rental from the hottest boutique downtown, or a designer watch, or — my personal favorite — a speedy ride in a luxury car across town.
Performers pepper the event space tastefully, everything from drag queens in all their carnival glory to hoopers, Lyra and silks aerialists, and even some of the women I train with at the pole studio.
Deep bass and high-energy lo-fi beats thumps rhythmically through the party, loud enough to dance to, but low enough not to overshadow the conversation.
This is the kind of lighting, music, and event space that ignites deep thoughts, gives space for creative work, and illuminates endless possibilities.
I can feel it as I walk around from group to group, introducing myself and my team, checking in on guests and ensuring everyone is having a great time.
And I know the guests can feel it, too.
Jeannie is by my side as I flitter around, clipboard in hand and earpiece tucked inconspicuously in the shell of her ear.
Every now and then, she’ll tap my shoulder to let me know of a minor issue, ask a question, or let me know of someone’s arrival.
Otherwise, she’s a friendly smile and perfectly timed polite exit at my side.
It’s just after eight when I finally get the chance to talk to Mrs. Lambert, who has been tied up with every executive at the event up until this point. She joins me at the east side of the balcony, resting an elbow on the glass railing as she lifts her champagne to her burgundy lips with a smile.
“Ms. Daniels, you completely outdid yourself.”
“Too much?” I ask with a smile that tells her I already know her answer.
“I’ve played host to many events, but none quite as eclectic as this one.
If you would have let me in on the planning and told me you were conjuring up a carnival theme, I would have promptly wrinkled my nose and demanded you pivot in another direction.
I mean, honestly… carnivals?” And just like she said, she wrinkles her perfect nose.
“They’re dirty and smelly and cheap. But this?
” She sighs, looking around the space. “This is magical.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“To you, my dear,” Mrs. Lambert says, lifting her glass to mine. “And the undoubtedly bright future you have with Ball & Pen.”
I clink my glass to hers with a smile.
“I’m so glad Brandon Church was stupid enough to let you go,” she adds once we’ve cheersed, chuckling to herself and taking a sip of her champagne.
She’s completely oblivious to how those words have shocked me still, especially since she’s apparently spotted someone across the pool whom she needs to speak with.
“Alright, back to the rounds. Let’s rendezvous at the office Monday morning before I fly back to Atlanta.
I’ve already had offers to collaborate and there are unhappy clients looking to move their accounts to our firm. ”
And with a waggle of her brows and a dazzling smile, she’s off.
It only takes me a moment to shake off her words once she’s gone.
If this was me even a year ago, they might have crippled me to the point of not being able to hold it together for the rest of the event.
But I’ve learned a lot in my short life, and one thing I knew for certain was that the show must go on.
And giving power to someone in your past does nothing to grow your future.
Still, even as Jeannie gently touches my elbow and guides me to the next group of guests, I can’t help but ruminate on her words.
That rumination grows substantially when I realize Brandon is in the group I’m approaching.
I’m surprised my legs manage to keep working once I spot him.
I’m surprised my heart doesn’t stop beating at the sight of his warm eyes, crinkled at the edges as he laughs at something the woman next to him said.
I’m surprised his brilliant, megawatt smile doesn’t steal my breath, that the delicious way his tailored navy suit hugs his shoulders and biceps doesn’t make me audibly moan.
He is, in every way, the absolute picture of elegance and power. Strong and confident, enigmatic and sure. It’s the kind of aura a king might possess, or a billionaire greeting guests on his private island, or the captain of a championship team.
But I’m holding it together, holding everything steady and confident, myself, even in his midst.
Until the very moment his eyes find mine.
They flick to me easily, accidentally, a casual glance up at the crowd around his little pocket of people as he takes a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. I just so happen to be in his line of vision when he does, and at the sight of me, his hands pause, glass hovering just away from his lips.
I could look away. I could turn to Jeannie and pretend I have something to ask her. I could smile as I pass one group on my way over to his. I could look anywhere else than right back at him.
But I don’t want to.
I love the way his gaze burns, like a candle flame I can’t help but hold my hand over. It’s enough to sear my flesh and leave a mark, but it’s a price I’ll pay to keep this warmth as long as I can.
“Are you going to be okay, talking to your ex-boss?” Jeannie whispers as our heels click along the tile. “I can steer you the other way and avoid them, if you prefer.”
I blink, and it’s as if that notion snaps Brandon back to reality. He finally sips his drink, and then his eyes are back on the man across from him, and he’s smiling like he’s been following along the entire time.
“No,” I answer confidently. “I’ve got this.”
The small group parts like the sea for Moses when Jeannie and I approach, and everyone is a bustle of greetings and smiles.
They congratulate me on a fantastic event, compliment me on the décor and entertainment, and almost immediately, I’m roped into the conversation that was occurring before we came by — how the Super Bowl will be held in Miami next year, and what that will mean for our event industry.
Jeannie and I slide right in, joining the circle and the conversation with ease, and while I chat business with the various executives, I can feel Brandon’s eyes on me.
Part of me doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking back.
But dammit if I can’t help it.
There’s a lull in the conversation when I finally peel my eyes up to meet his, and when I do, the muscle in his jaw tenses, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand.
“Mr. Church,” I greet with a smile. “It’s so lovely that you could join us this evening. I know how busy it must be at Okay, Cool with the launch of the work share space downtown.”
His Adam’s apple bobs hard in his throat, but he manages a smile. “We wouldn’t miss it.”
I don’t miss the we instead of I, and at that very moment, the woman standing next to him casts a shy smile his way.
Though my heart is sticky and sluggish at the sight, I smile wider.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” I say to the woman, extending my hand for hers.
She’s older than me, but still young enough for me to be impressed that she’s at this event, and while she wouldn’t capture my attention if I walked past her on a crowded street, she has a girl-next-door kind of charm about her.
Her dark blonde hair is pulled back in a tight bun, warm brown eyes friendly and kind, freckles dotting the pale skin of her cheeks. “I’m Ashlei Daniels.”
“Oh gosh, I know who you are,” she says with flaming red cheeks, but she shakes my hand confidently. “Your reputation proceeds you.”
I smile. “Well, hopefully it’s a good one.”
“Very much so,” she says on a breath. “My name is Colleen Sparks. I’m the new lead account manager at Okay, Cool. Just moved here from New York.”
“Ah,” I say with what I hope is a pleasant smile. “My replacement.”
The color drains from her face. “Oh, well… I… I, uh…” She looks to Brandon with a grimace like she’s said something she shouldn’t have, but his gaze is apathetic. He takes a sip of his drink with those eyes burning a hole into the side of my skull.
“We’ll have to collaborate sometime,” I say to ease the discomfort I’ve brought to the group. I can almost feel the collective breath of relief when I do. “I love the Okay, Cool team, and I know you have talent over there. Together? There’s no telling what we could create.”
“We’d be honored to work with you,” Colleen rushes out.
“If there’s time,” Brandon says just as quickly, and I can see straight through his forced smile. “It’s a busy quarter for us.”
Code for: Don’t you dare come back into my life.
Part of me shrivels up at the rejection, but it’s a small part. Sure, I still feel guilty for what I did. And sure, I still love that grumpy man and miss him something terrible.
But I’ve got the power buzzing under my skin, the kind that can only come from putting on a perfect event and knowing I’m the head bitch in charge, too.
I know I hurt him, but he hurt me, too.
And where I would have stayed to fight for us, he fled.
So no, I don’t feel even a little bit sorry when I stand even taller, offer him a pleasant smile and say, “Of course. I understand. Collaboration with the new kid on the block can be scary.” I shrug as the group exchanges knowing looks and grins.
“But my offer stands, should your schedule clear up at all.”
With a smile and a tip of my glass, I excuse myself from the group, then, and it’s not until we’re on the other side of the pool that I drain every drop of gin from my glass.
Jeannie smirks a little, taking the empty glass from my hand. “I’ll refill this.” She pauses, arching a brow. “Nice work over there. Mrs. Lambert would be proud.”
I just wink at her, and once she’s gone, I press a hand to my stomach to catch my breath.
I can feel it still, Brandon’s laser-sharp gaze, and when I casually turn to survey the party, I find him staring at me through the gaps in the crowd. Every now and then, someone will walk in front of him or in front of me, somewhere in the way, but all the while, his gaze stays fixed on me.
And it stays that way all night.
No matter where I move, no matter who I’m with, if I look in that general direction, I find those hazel hues locked on me.
So, toward the end of the night, I decide to give him something to stare at.
I know it’s juvenile. I know I’m playing a game similar to one I would have in college. I’m also completely aware that Brandon is an adult, and it will likely not have the desired effect on him that I’d like.
But I don’t care.
I still waltz my ass up to the hottest guy I can find and drag my fingertip down the sleeve of his suit jacket.
I still laugh at his stupid jokes and lean in closer when he talks business and draw attention to my lips with every sip of my drink.
I still push my cleavage together a little as I find the shell of his ear and whisper we should go somewhere more private, and I still let my gaze flick to Brandon’s when that man takes my arm in his and steers us toward the exit.
You’re doing just fine without me? That’s great.
Because I’m doing just fine, too.
I don’t care if it’s partially a lie. In that moment, with the adrenaline and power running through my veins and an incredibly fine specimen pressing his warm palm to the small of my back, it feels true.
And I hope the smirk on my lips as I leave Brandon behind is convincing enough that he believes every bit of it.