I walked him through the vision while he listened, occasionally grunting or nodding. When I finished, he pulled out his blocking tape and started marking the floor.
“Stage here,” he said, stretching tape across the far end of the ballroom. “Main performance area. You want the star field projection behind you during the announcement?”
“Exactly. Like we’re standing under the universe itself.”
“Poetic. I can do that.” More tape. “Dance floor center, obviously. Lounge areas along the sides—conversation pits with the velvet furniture from storage. VIP press area…” He measured with his eyes. “Northeast corner. Soundproofing drapes, elevated slightly so they can see but can’t interrupt.”
“Perfect.”
Frank marked out the press area, then moved toward the entrance. “Red carpet entry is here. Photo backdrop wall with the theme elements—what did Leo say? Neon Elysium?”
“Yes. Bold, modern, Vegas spirit without being garish.”
“I’ve got projection equipment that can create a living backdrop—constantly shifting constellation patterns, deep blues and purples, and gold accents. It’s more dynamic than static signage, and we can program it to change throughout the night.”
“That’s brilliant.”
“Ice sculptures,” Frank continued, moving to mark out stations around the perimeter. “Ricky’s our guy. He can do your Four Hearts centerpiece—I’m thinking four separate heart shapes that interlock at the center, backlit with programmable LEDs so they glow from within.”
I stopped writing. “That’s perfect. Exactly what I imagined but better.”
“Always better,” Frank agreed without modesty. “Additional sculptures here, here, and here for visual interest. Food stations between them keep traffic flowing and prevent bottlenecks.”
He was marking faster now, his earlier skepticism replaced by the focus of a man in his element.
“Bar setup,” he muttered, taping off a long section near the east wall. “The champagne tower will be placed at center stage for the midnight moment. I’ll rig special lighting underneath, so it glows when you pour.”
“Can you do that?”
“Can I—” He looked offended. “Honey, I’ve done lighting for productions with budgets a tenth of what you’re working with. Your project is a dream compared to some of the garbage I’ve had to make work.”
“So, it’s possible? All of it? In thirty-one hours?”
Frank stood back and surveyed his tape marks—a complete blueprint of the gala laid out on the ballroom floor in bright yellow lines.
“Possible?” He pulled out his phone and started typing rapidly. “I’m calling in every favor, every freelancer, every crew member who owes me. We’re going to need the rigging team here by noon to hang the projection equipment. The lighting design will be finalized by two p.m. so we can program the sequences. Ricky starts ice carving at four p.m. and works through the night. Furniture delivery at six a.m. tomorrow. Final setup and tech rehearsal at noon tomorrow. Sound check at three p.m. and your walk-through at four p.m. It’s as good as done.”
“I hope the brothers pay you well.”
“I have no complaints.” He admitted, “We’re cutting it incredibly close, but it’s doable. This plan is feasible if nothing goes wrong, and all my team members are available. Assuming your budget is as unlimited as Leo suggested.”
“It is.”
“Then we’ve got a shot.” Frank grinned, and I could see why Leo trusted him. He made a few more notes on his phone.“When you make your big announcement, I need to know how long you’ll be speaking. I need to know how long to hold the spotlight, when to cue the confetti, and whether you want music underneath or silence.”
“Leo’s handling that.”
“Good, then I have an idea already. We’ve got thirty hours and forty-five minutes to make this work.” Frank started packing up his tape and equipment. “Tashi?”
“Yeah?”
“This is going to be spectacular—a night Vegas talks about for years. I can feel it.” He headed toward the exit, then paused. “Oh, and one more thing—you might want to eat something. You’re going to burn about ten thousand calories today, and passing out during your announcement would be disastrous optics.”
He left before I could respond, his laughter echoing back through the empty ballroom.
I stood alone in the massive space, surrounded by yellow tape marks that represented my vision, my plan, and my last desperate gamble to win this war.
Then I pulled out my phone and started making calls.
