“Hello, Orchid, need another?” he asked, pointing to her empty glass. She was pleased to see a friendly soul in a place that held the potential to flatten her.
“I must’ve been parched,” she said, following him past a buffet laden with food to the temporary bar set up on the other side of the expansive area at the center of the agency. Corridors of offices fronted with clear glass walls lined three sides of the space. Soaring rock ballads crooned over the hubbub of wine-fueled conversation. The music swirled with the minimalist design, creating a cool atmosphere that seemed to be able to materialize creativity from anything, ordinary or extraordinary. The imprint of Phoenix.
“So, how’ve you been?” Dex asked, his bulk taking a spot in the snaking line of thirsty guests.
“Pretty busy with work. How are you? And Fiona?” She looked up at him, intuitively trusting the burly fellow whom Phoenix had always spoken of with the highest respect. He donned a decidedly unfashionable red sweater vest over a checkered blue and white shirt in the pattern of one of her dishtowels, paired with baggy jeans. Topped off with a bow tie in casual twill, he pulled off the look with the panache of an executive creative director.
“We’re good. Too bad we haven’t seen you much.”
“Much? As in nine months since the Effies?”
“Yeah, we thought we’d see you more often after that,” he said, inching up towards the guy taking orders at the bar.
“Me, too.”
He looked at her funny, but they didn’t have time to explore the reason. It was their turn. “Another white wine?”
“Vodka, double, rocks, splash of something, anything,” she said, needing liquid help to forget her unrequited obsession, who was engaged to be married in weeks.
Dex handed her a tumbler, and led them to a spot by an aggressively green ficus to talk above the din.
“Cheers,” he said, touching his glass to hers.
“Cheers. To Phoenix’s wedding.” She downed half the drink, waiting for the near-instant numbing she was sure to experience on an empty stomach.
“Wedding? What wedding?” he asked, his bushy brows pulling his normally drooping eyes up with them.
“To Tish?” she pronounced, glancing at him askance. “In April? At Cipriani’s?”
Dex’s face twisted, like a schoolboy trying to untangle a complex math equation. “April? Cipriani’s? He’s not getting married.”
“He’s not?” She saw them. Arms wrapped around each other. Phoenix’s eyes filled with tenderness and desire.
Before they could delve into this surprising revelation, Joan bounded over, striding as easily on four-inch heels as if she’d been barefoot on new-mown grass.
“I’ve come to say goodbye to my favorite creative genius. But you’re not going to let me go without saying hello to your hotshot founder, are you?” she teased.
“Ha, of course not. Let’s see if he’s done with his call,” Dex said, leading them down a corridor opening up to a series of offices featuring floor to ceiling plate-glass windows. The walls along the corridor were also clear glass, leaving unobstructed views of Midtown under late afternoon sun.
Orchid tipped the glass up to her mouth for the last few icy drops of courage and, leaving the tumbler on a tray, followed them.
The end of the corridor opened to a large, glass-walled conference room. Inside, Phoenix leaned back in a cream-colored leather chair, face tilted up, talking at a conference phone on the elongated table. He commanded the space, the room, the whole agency. Liv perched at the edge of her seat nearer the door, bent over an iPad, partially blocking Orchid’s view of Phoenix.
Noticing the trio, Phoenix put up two fingers. Catching her boss’ action, Liv turned towards the glass wall. Her glance traveled from Dex to Joan, and then settled onto Orchid. Behind half-moon spectacles, her eyes narrowed.
The call ended. He stood straight and strong and strode to meet them just as Dex ushered the women into the conference room. They nodded their hellos. Phoenix’s shirt sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. Orchid stared at him, not comprehending.
Oh no!His eyes affixed on hers. Then he met the group just inside the door and greeted Joan. Orchid could make no sense of their conversation, as every word was muffled under the weight of another revelation, one that annihilated news of the non-wedding or move to China.
Her stomach twisted as she squeezed her eyes. She swallowed to mitigate the shock. Feelings swayed.Poor Phoenix.
“Bye, Joan,” he said.
Oh God, he was standing so close. His voice reverberated through her. She forced herself to look at him. She met his eyes and she read her own transparency in his expression. His mouth turned down in dismay, his nostrils flared and quivered for a whisper of a second, his gaze cast upon hers and hardened as he took in her demeanor.
Stop.Phoenix is alive.He pulsed with life, energy in every wink of the eye and animated gesture. He was more than okay. His presence filled the room, dwarfing them all.
Phoenix whom she’d fallen for. Phoenix who’d abandoned her. In between, he’d been broken.
