The emcee stood at the podium and smiled out at the crowd. “And the winner is…the Center for Missing and Exploited Children campaign by…”
“Ugh,” Dex complained, head in his hands.
“Told you,” Phoenix said, holding out the palm of his hand.
Dex handed over a twenty.
“You bet against yourself?” Orchid asked with shock.
“A guy’s gotta know his limitations,” Phoenix said.
“And yours would be…?”
“I have plenty, I just don’t want to ‘fess up to them.”
“Are you sure? I googled your pedigree. Agency start-up by the age of twenty-seven, AdAge’s ’Small Agency to Watch.’ What’s next? Is NASA recruiting? Need someone to second your Nobel Prize nomination?” Her voice lifted as she took a poke at him.
“Very clever. I’m sure you’re just as accomplished. Marketing manager for a top company? Now you’re working on a global launch… that’s a huge accolade.”
She nodded. “And thanks to you, maybe I have a shot at the China assignment.”
“If you get it, it’s your doing, not mine.”
Orchid nodded, as if acknowledging that what he said just might be true. “Speaking of China, I started those Mandarin classes. Thanks for the suggestion! They put me up a level because I grew up knowing some Chinese.”
“Is your teacher Tang Laoshi?”
Orchid practically spun in her seat. “Yes! And I feel like I’m always one sentence away from making a fool of myself.”
“Everyone does. One time, I asked for a pen, and she informed me that the way I’d pronounced it sounded like the word for a part of female…um, anatomy.” He felt his face warm. He hadn’t meant to skirt into sexual territory. It was as if his subconscious wasn’t able to remain platonic.
“How are we supposed to remember four tones?” she asked. “Shoe sounds like write, Soup like hot. And apparently, pen like….” Her lips seemed to cycle through surprise, indecision, and then halted on embarrassment.
Phoenix’s humor bubbled up, in complete sympathy for the position his anecdote had created for them both.
Her resolve seemed to break and she joined him.
They looked at each other like confidants in a bank heist.
Fiona jabbed a thumb upwards as she left the table, giving the two of them a sign of approval before heading in the direction of the bathrooms.
Orchid swilled some wine, calming her hiccupped laughter.
Phoenix nodded towards her plate. “How’s your dinner?”
She looked at her half-eaten meal. “It’s fine, but the haricots verts could use some shaved asiago, and I would’ve blended parsnips with potatoes.”
“I’m impressed!” he said. “I can eat, but I can’t cook.”
“Don’t be impressed. When I was a kid, if I wanted to eat, I had to cook it myself.” And then she turned away, cheeks growing flushed, as if she’d said too much.
Phoenix wondered if these were more pieces of Orchid’s puzzle that she did not want to reveal. He was certain that under her gold sheath lay layers of complexity. He recognized her pain because he’d also lost a parent. Yet, Orchid also suffered in a way that was foreign to him. Beyond that, she effused joy, warmth, humor…and an edge. Her professional drive was apparent; the trait that had earned her the non-profit assignment.
Phoenix pulled them both onto safer ground. “This next category is about positive changes in sustainability.”
She peered at the portion of the program he indicated. “Seems like they should have no page for that category. Save some trees.”
“Ha. You make a decent point. Live your brand purpose.”
