Chapter 4
4
Iris’s philosophy was that maintaining a garden was a lot like maintaining one’s life. After a seed was planted, its development depended on how well it was nurtured. If watered appropriately and given the right amount of sunlight, the seed could bloom into a beautiful plant. A healthy garden required consistency and dedication. It also required a sense of order, and Iris had orderliness in spades.
She loved her garden. It was her happy place.
The morning sun shone down on her as she took a cursory stroll through her garden in her backyard before work. Her hydrangea bushes were thriving, and purple flower buds were beginning to open. Her orange and yellow marigolds looked good too, which relieved her. Two summers in a row, she’d planted marigolds only for the flower heads to mysteriously disappear overnight. She’d discovered that deer had been sneaking into her backyard and snacking on her marigolds specifically. The trick now was to spray her flowers with deer repellant.
She crouched down and peered closely at her pink begonias. Two bumblebees hovered around the flowers, collecting pollen and paying Iris no mind. Bumblebees were mostly harmless and tolerant of people, unless you did something dramatic to threaten them. Iris considered the bees part of her garden’s ecosystem. Similar to the big spider who lived in the web above her peonies. Every spring, he reemerged and trapped the bugs that tried to eat her plants.
Everything that she knew about gardening and plants she’d learned from her parents, thanks to the many summers she’d spent working at their florist/nursery shop, Greenehouse. Then after college, she’d joined corporate America and never looked back. Now gardening was her hobby, but sometimes she wondered what her life might have been like if she’d taken that other path and stayed in the family business.
She stood upright, brushed the soil debris off her hands and walked inside. Their house was two stories with three bedrooms. Iris used the third bedroom as an office and storage space. Admittedly, the house felt too big for just her and Calla. When she and Terry had first moved here almost seven and a half years ago, they’d done so with the assumption that they’d have more children down the line. Their studio apartment on the Lower East Side with its uneven floors and unreliable heating system hadn’t been large or safe enough for a baby. Moving back to Iris’s New Jersey hometown, Willow Ridge, had made sense. It was only an hour train ride away from the city, and Iris couldn’t imagine taking care of a newborn without her parents’ help, especially since Terry’s parents were hours away in DC. They’d gifted Iris and Terry with the money for the house’s down payment.
Iris walked upstairs and paused in Calla’s bedroom doorway. Calla unabashedly loved the color pink. Her walls and bedspread were pink. Pink teddy bears sat atop her little bookshelf, which housed tons of books gifted to her by Lily, who now was a children’s book editor. And the window drapes were pink too. Wearing a light pink short-sleeved sundress, Calla kneeled in the center of her room, carefully tying the laces of her white sneakers. She’d recently mastered the bunny ears method. She was graduating from kindergarten at the end of the week, and soon she’d be a child of summer, juggling day camp, swimming and karate.
Iris quietly observed her daughter’s quirked lips and pinched brows as she tied her shoes. Calla wore such a serious expression sometimes, like she’d experienced much more life beyond her six years. When she’d been a newborn, cute and soft and fragile, everything that she did had seemed like a wonder to Iris and Terry.
Did you see the way her mouth moved? I think she’s smiling at us, Iris would say.
Look at the way she stretches her arms. She’s going to be so strong, Terry would say.
They’d been new parents, exhausted and bleary-eyed, whispering to each other in the early-morning hours as Calla dozed on the bed between them. Their lives had turned out so differently from what they’d pictured when they’d first bumped into each other at NYU’s Bobst Library. That first year of business school, Iris had seen Terry around here and there. They’d even shared the same Foundations of Finance class. She’d noted that he was handsome and well-spoken, often raising his hand to answer questions. But she hadn’t talked to him directly. After graduating from Princeton at the top of her class and landing an entry-level job at Save Face Beauty, Iris had been focused on moving up in the corporate world. Not on spending time with handsome young men.
One night during their first semester, she’d been in the library studying after class, and Terry had been there too, seated a few tables over. They’d stayed until the library closed, and it had been raining when they’d stepped outside. Iris usually came to her evening classes straight from the office, so she hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella. As she stared at the rain, annoyed with herself and her unpreparedness, contemplating a mad dash to the F train at West 4th Street, Terry had appeared beside her and opened his wide umbrella over both of their heads.
“I can walk with you to the subway,” he’d said quietly. “If you’d like.”
He had impeccable manners. That was the first thing Iris noticed about him. He knew to walk on the side of her that was closest to the street to protect her from getting splashed, and he lightly held on to her elbow and steered her around trash in the middle of the sidewalk. He wore a classic digital Casio watch, wrinkle-free slacks, a button-up and a tan trench coat. She didn’t recall ever seeing him wear jeans to class. During their walk, they discussed their courses and what had brought them to New York. Terry was originally from DC and had graduated from Hampton four years prior. He was getting his business degree and then planned to return to DC to work for his father’s financial advisory firm. He spoke in a direct, matter-of-fact way that Iris appreciated.
When they reached the West 4th station, he’d politely bid her good night. The following evening, he’d sat beside her in class, and later they’d walked to the library and discussed their notes. It became their routine, soon followed by late-night walks for slices of pizza, where they shared their ambitions, like Terry’s desire to expand his father’s business and Iris’s desire to learn as much as she could from her boss, Dominique. He told Iris about how he liked playing basketball for fun but was only passably good. She told him about how she loved gardening and had her parents to thank for it.
She fell in love with Terry the way that she did most things: methodically. First there was the spark of physical attraction, then she fell in love with his mind. At the end of the semester, when their cohort went out for drinks on the last day of classes before winter break, Iris stared at Terry’s mouth the entire time that they talked at the bar. She was single-minded in every aspect of her life, and when Terry finally kissed her outside the bar, she knew she’d become single-minded about him too. Falling for him hadn’t been part of her plan. But life was full of surprises. Iris knew that all too well now.
“Ready for school?” Iris asked Calla, leaning against the doorjamb.
Calla glanced up. She had Terry’s dimpled chin and the shape of his nose. The traits she’d seemed to inherit from Iris were her thick, curly hair and her penchant for organization. She stood and grabbed her Little Mermaid backpack, placing her hands on her hips in satisfaction.
“Yes,” she said, smiling.
Calla followed Iris downstairs and they ate bowls of cereal. Then Iris packed Calla’s snacks in her backpack and grabbed her travel mug. Calla was newly obsessed with dinosaurs because they’d watched the most recent Jurassic Park movie over the weekend. She’d been talking about dinosaurs nonstop since, and she provided Iris with random facts as they walked outside to the car.
“Mom,” Calla said contemplatively. “Did you know that the longest dinosaur was the same length as four fire trucks?”
“I didn’t know that.” After they climbed inside, Iris made sure that Calla was safely buckled up before she pulled out of the driveway. “What else can you tell me?”
“The first dinosaur was called the Megalosaurus .”
“That’s a mouthful,” Iris said, smiling.
“Mom, I want to be an arch…archeo—” Calla frowned, and her tongue continued to trip over the word.
“Archaeologist?” Iris supplied.
“Yes. I want to find dinosaur bones.”
Iris nodded, encouraging this new idea. A few weeks ago, Calla had declared that she wanted to be a gymnast, and a few weeks before that, she’d wanted to be a teacher. Iris took each of her ideas seriously. She wanted Calla to know that she could be anything that she put her mind to.
“Did you know that the museum of natural history in the city has an exhibit on dinosaurs?” she asked.
Calla’s round eyes widened. “They do?”
“Yep. They even have life-size replicas of dinosaurs.”
Calla gasped. “ Wow ,” she whispered. “I want to go. Can we go, please? Please? ”
“Of course. We have all summer.”
Minutes later, she pulled into the drop-off line at Calla’s elementary school, and the radio caught her attention.
“We got some new songs taking up our top ten spots this morning,” the Power 105.1 DJ announced. “A new hit from Angel coming up after these messages.”
At the sound of Angel’s name, Iris stilled. She’d thought about him in the couple weeks since Violet’s wedding, of course. Mostly, she’d been embarrassed at how she’d experienced a small freak-out at his suggestion that they see each other again. She’d since realized that she’d completely overreacted. He was probably just trying to be nice because he could tell she’d been feeling sad. It had been kind of him to dance with her in an attempt to cheer her up. There was no way he’d actually been interested in her romantically. He was famous! And she was…well, she was a decidedly unfamous person who lived in the suburbs of New Jersey and took the commuter train to work in the city after dropping her daughter off at school.
“Mom?” Calla said, waiting for Iris to get out and walk her to the front doors. She was eager to be at school today because they were having a pizza party for lunch.
“Sorry, baby,” Iris said, snapping to attention.
She walked Calla to the school’s main entrance and gave her a big hug and kiss goodbye.
“Have a good day, honey,” she said. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Calla smiled and darted away. Iris was grateful that Calla was still at the age where she didn’t mind being hugged and kissed by Iris in public. Iris felt like just yesterday she’d held a newborn baby in her arms, and now her baby was graduating from kindergarten. Time was moving so quickly.
Iris watched as Calla joined the group of students walking down the hall. Then Calla paused and quickly doubled back. When she reached Iris, she leveled her with a serious stare.
“Mom, remember, karate ends at six thirty,” she said.
Usually, Iris’s mom or dad, who also lived in Willow Ridge, picked Calla up from school and dropped her off at karate class. Iris insisted on being the person to pick her up. But dealing with the unreliable MTA and NJ Transit during rush hour was a lawless gamble. More often than not, Iris was late to the karate dojo and Calla was one of the last kids to be picked up. A huge no-no in the little-kid rule book. But today, Iris planned to leave early anyway since she had her scheduled therapy appointment.
“I remember,” Iris said. “I’ll be there on time today. Promise.”
“Okay, bye.” Calla waved as she hurried back inside, her book bag bouncing against her back.
Once Calla was safely on her way to her classroom, Iris walked back toward her car. A few feet in front of her on the sidewalk, she spotted Janet and Viv, two women who had daughters in Calla’s class. Their daughters also took karate with Calla, which meant that the girls were friends and had playdates often. Janet and Viv were fine in small doses—chatting idly before tournaments or in the dojo parking lot. But Iris was fully aware that if she didn’t have a daughter who was the same age as theirs, she probably wouldn’t be friends with Janet and Viv. They were about a decade older than her, but that wasn’t the issue. Mainly, she didn’t want to get that close to them because they were nosy, and if she told them anything personal, she couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t share her business with someone else. But that was the problem with a small town like Willow Ridge in general.
“Iris, hey!” Janet said, waving Iris down.
She and Viv were wearing pastel-colored workout sets and holding iced coffees. Their hairstyles also matched, each donning jumbo knotless box braids. They’d been best friends since high school, and their husbands were best friends as well. Janet had dark brown skin and was tall and slender, while Viv was light-skinned, medium height and curvy, but they liked to tell everyone that they were fraternal twins. They went to barre classes during the week and often invited Iris. She wished that she had the freedom to go to a workout class on a weekday morning.
“Hey there,” she said, slightly slowing her walk. She didn’t really have time to talk, but she didn’t want to be rude. “How’s it going?”
“Good!” Janet said brightly. “You know, same old, same old. Trying to get my ten thousand steps in every day but failing!” Dramatically, she looked to her left, then to her right, and lowered her voice. “Viv and I were just talking about Adrienne and Lamar. Have you heard what happened?”
Adrienne and Lamar were the parents of Lamar junior, another one of Calla’s classmates. Iris glanced at the time on her phone screen.
“I haven’t,” she said. “I wish I could stay and talk, but—”
“They’re separating ,” Viv whispered, eyes widening. “Adrienne said she caught Lamar texting his secretary. I mean, how stereotypical can you be?”
She and Janet tutted, shaking their heads. Iris didn’t know Adrienne or Lamar that well, so talking about their personal business made her uncomfortable.
“That’s, um, really sad to hear.” She continued edging away. “I’m sorry but I’ve got to head to the train.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll share the rest of the story through text,” Janet said, tapping her phone.
That was another thing. Last year, they’d created a group chat with a couple other karate moms. It was their water cooler for town gossip. Iris never looked at the chat and had it silenced.
“Have a good day!” she called, breaking into a light jog, waving over her shoulder.
Iris knew that Janet and Viv had singled her out and made continued attempts to bring her into their fold because they felt sorry for her. It was the whole being-a-young-widow thing. In a way, Iris appreciated that they had good intentions where she was concerned. That was probably why she literally ran away from conversations with them instead of straight up saying that she’d rather stick to discussing matters that mutually involved their children and nothing more.
Iris climbed back into her car and began her drive to the train station at the same time that the radio DJ finished his commercial break.
“Okay, so this new song from Angel is a nice lil summer turn-up,” the DJ said. “Let’s get into it.”
Iris perked up in her seat, realizing she was relieved that she hadn’t missed hearing the song. She turned the volume up as the song began to play. The beat was smooth and fast, something to easily dance to. The kind of song that she was used to hearing from Angel. His dulcet tones filtered over the airwaves.
Your name is like a flower. I think about you every hour.
Iris blinked and stared at her dashboard. The driver in the car behind her honked their horn as the stoplight turned green. Iris put her foot on the gas.
A name like a flower. That could mean anything. He’d probably needed something to rhyme with hour .
The song continued, and Iris listened more closely.
You in that dress, the color of champagne. I don’t know how else to say it, baby, how can I make it plain? I remember every move of our dance. Even though I know I’ll never have a chance.
Iris gasped.
Wait a minute…Was this song about her ?
No. No way. It couldn’t be. Could it?
She pulled into the train station parking lot and cut the engine. She was scatterbrained as she raced up the staircase and onto the platform. The two-decker train came roaring into the station, and Iris entered the train and moved to the designated quiet car. She found an unoccupied window seat and opened the music app on her phone. She didn’t even need to search for Angel’s name. His new song “Summertime Fine” was being advertised on the app’s home page. She popped in her headphones and clicked play, listening to the song again.
She hadn’t imagined things. Those lyrics were real.
Her name was a flower.
She had worn a champagne-colored dress as they had danced together.
Blood rushed to Iris’s face. She glanced around at the other commuters, as if they could hear what she was hearing. She had the weird fear that everyone in the world was staring at her, which obviously couldn’t be further from the truth. No one on the train was looking in her direction. Why did he write those lyrics? What did it mean? And why was her heart pounding so painfully?
She was in a confused daze as the train pulled into Penn Station and she took the downtown A train to the Financial District. She waved hello to the doormen at the Save Face Beauty building and took the elevator up to her floor. When she reached her office, she placed her bag on her desk and flopped into her chair. All the while, Angel’s voice continued to croon in her ears. She’d listened to the song on a loop at least ten times.
She was flattered—how couldn’t she be?! It was Angel! But she was also so, so confused. Why had he written a song about her , of all people?
A knock sounded at her door. “Good morning!”
Startled, Iris glanced up at her assistant, Bree, who stood in her doorway, a ready smile on her lips. Bree wore a black turtleneck and black jeans even though it was mid-June. On Bree’s first day, Iris had told her that she mostly wore black because it was easy and always looked professional. That was two years ago, and Bree had taken that little nugget of information to heart. Her blonde faux locs fell midway to her back, and she smoothly brushed her hair over her shoulders as Iris hastened to sit up and pull her headphones out of her ears.
“H-hi, good morning.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Bree said, approaching Iris’s desk. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay. Do you need me?”
“Dominique wants to see you.”
Iris glanced at her monitor. It was 8:53 a.m. She still had seven minutes left until her day started. “Right now?”
Bree nodded. “She said it’s urgent.”
Iris shrugged off her white Nike trainers and slipped on her black single-sole heels. She grabbed her legal pad on her way to the door. “Any idea what this is about?”
“No,” Bree said, keeping up with Iris’s brisk stride. “I asked her assistant for extra info, but she didn’t give much away.”
“Right.” This wasn’t untypical. Dominique, Iris’s boss and the president and CEO of Save Face Beauty, relied on Iris’s input for a handful of things. This meeting could be about Dominique’s desire to know Iris’s thoughts on a new employee’s performance or she might ask if Iris had any ideas for this year’s company retreat. It really just depended on the day.
Iris and Bree rounded the corner that led to Dominique’s office. Dominique’s door was open, and she sat behind her desk as Paloma sat across from her. A life-size cutout of Angel wearing an all-white sweat suit and holding the new facial moisturizer was positioned right behind Dominique. It was a literal jump scare. Like he’d leaped from Iris’s thoughts right into the room. She yelped and froze in the doorway. Bree stumbled into her back.
Dominique snapped her head up, and Paloma, who was resting her hands on her stomach, whipped around to face Iris. They stared at her, brows raised at her sudden outburst.
“Are you okay?” Bree asked, tapping Iris on the shoulder.
“Sorry,” Iris said, regaining her composure. She let out a shaky laugh. “We did such a great job with those cutouts. They look so real, I thought it was actually him.”
Dominique and Paloma laughed, and Iris secretly released a sigh of relief that they’d bought her lie.
“That was all you,” Paloma said.
The promotional cutouts had been Iris’s idea to place inside Refine stores. Iris swallowed hard, hearing the melody of Angel’s new song again in her head.
“Don’t hover in the doorway. Come in, come in,” Dominique said. She looked at Bree. “Bree, hun, no need to join this meeting just yet.”
Iris and Bree exchanged a quick look. Bree usually sat in on all of Iris’s meetings to take notes. If Dominique didn’t want Bree there, the subject matter must have been of a confidential nature. Bree whispered to Iris that she’d be at her desk if Iris needed her, and she quickly left the room.
“Good morning,” Iris said, taking the open seat beside Paloma.
“Hi, lady.” Paloma reached over and lightly touched Iris’s hand. Paloma’s wavy hair was dyed honey blonde and she wore her signature blue-red lip that popped against her brown skin. Iris and Paloma had started at Save Face Beauty right out of college. Iris had been hired as a marketing assistant and Paloma had been an assistant in PR, and they’d become quick friends. In the past decade, they’d both climbed their way up the corporate ladder.
As director of partnerships, it was Iris’s job to cultivate Save Face Beauty’s expansion. She led the team that secured endcap displays and exclusive gift bundles and sales with companies like Sephora, Ulta, and Refine. The work that Iris did used to give her a rush. But for the better part of this past year while finalizing Angel’s meet-and-greet tour for their skincare line, something had changed. She felt less inspired. Maybe it was because of the Turks and Caicos food poisoning situation. The constant online bashing had resulted in record-low sales and had even led to a round of layoffs at the end of spring. It had affected overall morale. Iris could feel the difference in herself and her colleagues as they sat in meetings and walked through the halls. It was an eerie feeling, like they were all waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everyone was hoping that this new skincare venture would help turn things around. Maybe the pressure Iris put on herself had depleted her creativity.
It was also highly likely that she was burned out and just needed a vacation.
“So, we have some news for you,” Dominique said. Her gray braids were pulled into a bun high on top of her head. Pearl drop earrings dangled from her ears.
Iris glanced back and forth between Dominique and Paloma. “What’s going on?”
“I have to take early pregnancy leave.” Paloma pointed at her stomach. “Just found out yesterday evening. Doctor’s orders.”
Iris knew that Paloma, who was seven months along, had been experiencing a difficult pregnancy after she and her wife had finally conceived last year through IVF. Iris squeezed her friend’s hand. “Oh no, babe, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” Paloma said, sighing. “I guess it gives me more time to catch up on Grey’s Anatomy . Be prepared to receive several live texting updates.” She laughed, and Iris laughed too. “I’ll still be working from home, but I won’t be coming into the office. The daily commute is too much.”
Iris nodded. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
“Well…” Paloma looked to Dominique.
“That’s why I’ve called this meeting,” Dominique said. “Given Paloma’s situation, she won’t be able to go on the meet-and-greet tour with Angel next week.”
“Oh.” Iris’s stomach tightened at the mention of Angel’s name. “Of course, that makes sense.”
“I think it’s best that you go in her place.”
Iris balked. “ What? Me?”
“Yes,” Dominique said.
Iris shook her head. “I—but I’m not in PR.” She turned to Paloma. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone from your team go instead?”
“You helped plan the tour,” Dominique said, not dissuaded. “It was your idea. You’re the only person who knows the ins and outs as well as Paloma.”
“There’s no one else that I’d trust to do this,” Paloma said. “We want a more senior person there to make sure everything goes smoothly. And since you already have a connection to Angel through your sister, we thought it made the most sense.”
The issue wasn’t that Iris didn’t understand their reasoning. The meet-and-greet tour was a big deal for the company’s future, whose reputation currently hung in the balance, and after everyone’s hard work it made sense that someone at Iris’s level would take the baton from Paloma to ensure that the tour was a success. And personally, Iris wanted to protect her own reputation. No one at the office had blamed her for what happened in Turks and Caicos, and it wasn’t like she could have done anything about the resort choosing to switch kitchen management, but she was still frustrated that something so chaotic had happened on her watch. The skincare line’s success was imperative.
But agreeing to the tour would mean spending a week with Angel. Who’d written a song about her. Possibly. Or possibly not. Angel with his golden voice and soft eyes. The thought of him made Iris feel flustered, and she hated feeling flustered.
“I know that making accommodations this late might be difficult, and if there’s anything that you need for Calla, we’re happy to assist you,” Dominique said. She leaned back in her chair and folded her hands, analyzing Iris. She looked at Paloma. “Paloma, hun, can you give Iris and me a minute?”
Paloma nodded and rose from her seat. She gave Iris an encouraging smile before she left the room, closing the door behind her.
“You know that I take my role as your mentor very seriously, don’t you?” Dominique asked.
“Yes,” Iris said. “Of course.”
“I’m aware that this is all very last-minute and Calla’s graduation is coming up soon. I know that you’re a long-term planner. But not just anyone can accompany Angel and see things through. You’re the one that I count on time and time again.” She smiled. “You know I’ve felt that way about you from the beginning.”
Iris nodded. She had always known how much Dominique valued her and her work ethic. Over a decade ago, months before she’d graduated from Princeton, Dominique spoke at a seminar on campus, sponsored by the alumni association. Dominique had talked with fellow Princeton graduates on a panel about business practices, and Iris had been captivated by the Black beauty industry mogul who’d broken barriers by creating an inclusive makeup brand that celebrated everyone’s inherent beauty, with the motto it’s your skin, but better . Iris wasn’t necessarily passionate about makeup herself at the time. At most, she wore lip gloss and mascara and added eyeliner on special occasions. But she was intrigued by Dominique’s ambition and power. She wanted to be just like her one day.
After the panel ended, Iris had shouldered her way through the room until she was right in front of Dominique. She’d boldly asked for an informational interview, and surprisingly Dominique had agreed, saying that she rarely turned down the opportunity to speak with young Black women who were interested in forwarding their careers. Iris took the train into the city and met Dominique at the Crosby Street Hotel, where she told Dominique that she wanted to learn from her and would do anything for the opportunity. Dominique had been so impressed with Iris’s straightforward ambition, she’d offered her a marketing assistant position once she graduated.
Under Dominique’s mentorship, Iris had thrived at SFB. Her original plan had been to stay at SFB for a few years and then take what she’d learned and break into other industries, like tech or market research, while keeping her mentor-mentee relationship with Dominique intact. But then she’d gotten pregnant and later Terry had passed, and trying to switch into a new industry not only seemed impossible, it felt too risky. She knew SFB and she leaned into that secureness. Dominique and the rest of the team were there for Iris during one of the worst periods of her life, and because Dominique understood that Iris wanted to channel her energy into work, she continued to give Iris new projects and promote her. Iris owed so much to Dominique and SFB, and she didn’t want to see the company fail.
She needed to get over herself and quick. Refusing to go on the tour was simply not an option. Too much was at stake.
After a lengthy pause, Iris said, “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Dominique smiled, satisfied. “There’s my girl. Thank you. I knew I could count on you. Can you tell Paloma to come back inside, please?”
Iris gulped and nodded quickly. She was a professional. She could spend an extended amount of time with Angel as the company representative for his tour. Everything would be fine. Now that she thought about it more, it was silly to think that he’d written the song about her. Realistically, the song was probably about a model named Jasmine or Daisy whom he’d met at a famous-people party and she’d happened to also wear a champagne-colored gown. It was summer. Everyone wore champagne gowns to parties. Iris was simply overreacting.
This logical reasoning soothed her fluttering stomach. Taking a deep breath, Iris opened the door for Paloma and shared the news that she’d agreed to go on the tour. Paloma threw her arms around Iris, which was an impressive feat given that her belly was lodged between them.
“Thank you so, so much!”
“You’re welcome,” Iris whispered, eyes once again drawn to the Angel cutout. She forced herself to look away.
“Paloma, I trust you’ll catch Iris up on the specifics for our meeting this morning,” Dominique said.
“What meeting?” Iris asked.
“It’s the last preliminary meeting with Angel’s team,” Paloma explained. “We weren’t going to bother you with it because your schedule is already packed, and you don’t usually deal with talent care. It was supposed to take place next week, but we moved it up because Angel had a schedule conflict.”
Against her will, Iris’s heartbeat quickened. “Angel will be at this meeting?”
“Yep!” Paloma beamed. “Isn’t that so cool?”
“Today?”
Paloma nodded. “I know, shocking. He couldn’t make any of the meetings before, but he’ll be here. People in the office don’t know, for security reasons. It’s very hush-hush.” She mimed zipping her lips.
“They’ll be here in about an hour,” Dominique said, checking the time. “Paloma, why don’t you get started on updating Iris?”
Paloma jumped in, and after a delayed moment, Iris pulled out her legal pad to scribble notes. The fact that she somehow managed to absorb anything that Paloma said was a miracle because two thoughts ran on a constant loop in her brain.
Angel will be here.
You thought he wrote a song about you.
All too soon, a call came in from the front desk. Angel and his team were arriving. They were going take the freight elevator up for security.
Paloma needed to run to the bathroom before the meeting, so Iris was alone as she walked to the freight elevator bank to greet Angel and his team. Sweat gathered in the palms of her hands.
Be cool. She just needed to be cool. She could do this. It was no big deal, really.
The elevator doors opened, revealing a handful of people. A building security guard, a short, dark-haired woman, holding a phone to her ear. A blonde woman, texting feverishly. A tall, bulky man with light brown skin and neck tattoos. And in the middle of them stood Angel. He wore a dark brown short-sleeved leather button-up and matching leather pants. Sunglasses dangled from his shirt’s collar. His gaze landed on Iris and his eyes widened. Iris’s heartbeat decided to perform a drum solo.
“Iris?” Angel said, smiling as he stepped toward her. It was a relieved smile, like he’d been hoping to see her but wasn’t sure if he would.
The tempo of her heart’s drum solo quickened.
“Hi.” She stared up into his face, feeling a little breathless. “Welcome to Save Face Beauty.”
“I didn’t know you’d be at this meeting,” he said, looking at her with such focused attention, she felt glued to the spot under his gaze. “I’m really glad to see you.”
Oh no, why did he have to go and say that ? Her heart’s drum solo added tambourines and a team of majorette dancers. They kicked and jumped around inside of her chest cavity. Angel was glad to see her . Her initial response was pure joy. Because being face-to-face again, she realized that she was glad to see him too.
But then she glanced at the team of people standing behind him, who were also looking at her, and she snapped out of her daze. She forced her heart’s halftime show performance to pack it up and go home. This was her job . She needed to stop gazing at Angel like an awestruck fan.
“I’m glad to see you too,” she said in the most professional tone possible. She cleared her throat. “And actually, I’ll be joining you on your meet-and-greet tour.”
“Really?” The smile that he gave her was so bright and full of life, it jolted her entire system.
“Really,” she said, swallowing thickly. “Please follow me to our conference room.”