Chapter 9. Brynn
brYNN
These stupid heels. Donovan should be the one pulling the BPC boxes. I ride my chair over to Meredith’s table and open another pink box.
She found the client’s phone number in Scott’s email; now, she’s leaning back in her seat exchanging pleasantries with whoever’s on the other end of the line.
She shifts forward, her face full of questions.
“So, a complete makeup line?” She looks in my direction.
“Some are filled with cream blush and eye shadows?”
I unscrew each dumbbell, showing her the shade inside.
A few of these reveals make her eyes expand in approval, others twist her perky little nose as if it’s smelled something offensive.
She ends the call. “We may be able to target a younger demo with these.”
“Yeah, grown women aren’t going to pull a mini dumbbell out of their bag. But maybe preteens will. I can see them stacked or lined up on a tween’s dresser. Do they make a lip gloss?”
“There you are.” She waves Donovan over. “You and Brynn can start brainstorming ideas for this new Bradley Products line.”
He shrugs. “How’s now?”
I steel my jaw, closing my eyes. This can’t be happening.
Holding my newly acquired laptop, I ride my chair to the other end of the table, where he sits.
He stares at his monitor. “Um, conference room. Bring one of the boxes with you.”
I replace all the ends, repack the dumbbells in the box, and lift the wobbly cardboard, stabilizing it with one knee underneath. I balance my laptop on top, then head to the conference room.
“They’re not what you think,” I say between gasps for air as I place the large pink box between us on the table.
His eyes narrow. “It’s makeup.”
“How did you know?”
“Scott said he scored a new cosmetics client.”
I smirk like we’re in this together. “So, why the dumbbell design?”
“Why worry about why?” His face hardens.
My cheeks warm. What’s this guy’s deal?
His thumbs tap a text on his phone.
I study the Chrysler Building’s sunburst pattern out the window. My gaze drops to the back of his phone, then to the people at their desks on the other side of the glass from us.
He picks at the skin on the side of his face and swipes at his screen a few times. “I’m not coming up with anything right now.” He stands and leaves.
What the hell?
I trudge back to my desk and fall into my chair.
Tears threaten. I tighten my jaw, digging my fingernails into the armrests.
I eye the way I walked in here. No one would notice if I ran back to the coffin, curled up on my mattress on the floor, and pretended today never happened.
What am I doing here? I can’t do this. It’s not like they taught us advertising in high school.
Where do I even start? Donovan’s no help.
The printer comes to life, rattling my desk.
I jump out of my chair. That constant occurrence won’t become too annoying, I’m sure.
I sigh and open up a new Word doc. I type, brADLEY PRODUCTS COMPLETE.
I change the font to one I like better. I bold it, underline it, and save it to my desktop.
I stare at the sea of whiteness, thinking any other color would be better than white.
Okay, enough.
I thumb through the copy of Adweek Micah gave me.
Shouldn’t be this hard . . . and . . . where did my team go?
I look around and see Zoe and another girl walking toward me.
After they pass, I stroll between my team’s two tables and pick up some magazines—an Advertising Age from Meredith’s desk, a few issues of Communication Arts off Priya’s, and a Wired and Direct Marketing News from Lucius’s.
I memorize agency names and accounts awarded.
I check out the campaigns getting attention and those attracting controversy.
I learn about something called an ADDY and the agencies who won one this year.
I find everything I’m looking at to be a big snooze—except for the Communication Arts magazines, which contain one advertising campaign after another. Many I’ve never seen before.
Like writing songs, maybe ads follow a formula?
These all have an image, a headline, and a logo with a closing—I mean, a tagline.
It’s surprising how entertaining they are.
Some make me smile, while others stir up a whole different set of emotions.
I’m in awe of how talented these copywriters and ad designers are.
What would they do with a line of dumbbell makeup?
“Where are all my CAs?” Priya stands by her computer, second one down from mine, a hand on her hip.
“I borrowed them.” I cringe a little. “Is that okay?”
Her face softens. “Be sure to return them.”
“I will. Thanks.” I watch her in profile, contemplating something on her screen.
Her legs turn out, reminding me of the ballerinas at my high school.
“Um, Priya? Do you know what Meredith means by brainstorming campaign ideas? Do I have to come up with entire ads like this?” I lift a page from one of the CAs toward her.
“Scott will want to see ad concepts, including headlines and a few taglines. Donovan usually does those. You should shadow him.”
“Thanks.” I force a smile, pressing my lips together.
She reads my face. “Is Donovan here?”
I shrug. “We were supposed to brainstorm ideas for the new Bradley Products line. He left before we got started.”
Her brown doe eyes grow tall. She scans the open room, then the hallway that leads to the lobby. “Alright.” She reaches for her bag, flipping her bangs to the side. “I can look at your ideas when I get back.”
“Really? That would be great.”
She exits like the agency’s on fire.
I sit up straighter, moving my hair off my face, and type: SPORTY TEEN MAKEUP. I wrinkle my nose. I reexamine the sneaker ad I showed Priya, the one that promises a better bod and a more fulfilling life—all from a shoe. Maybe I can come up with something along those lines.
Makeup in general helps one feel more attractive . . . it can help to erase the undereye circles I’m sporting these days, for example.
Meredith circles back to her desk at the other table across from me.
Micah materializes next to her a moment later. “Scott’s back. You coming to the meeting?”
“Be right there. Brynn too?”
“I haven’t told him about her yet.” He glances over at me for a millisecond.
Once they leave, I blow out the air I’ve been holding. I’ll be lucky to stay the two weeks Micah promised.
I check to see if Priya’s returned before lifting a blank notepad off her desk.
Dumbbells and makeup. Dumbbells and makeup? Why is right.
Both can enhance your appearance
Dumbbells help you stay fit and feel more attractive like makeup
Both can make you feel better about yourself, improve self-esteem
Help you transform into a new and improved version of yourself
Someone that you’re not but strive to be . . .
Hmm.