“Okay, what do you think about this one?” His voice, this almost lightly raspy tone that’s a little deeper, seasoned with more life experience than I would’ve placed him for, interrupts the clicking of my keys that’s been accompanying my thoughts.
I pause the report I’ve been meticulously writing and rewriting for an hour now, and look over to the desk to my right, where a second white desk and large chair, just like my own, has been brought in for him to use during those afternoons where he’s shadowing-slash-working with me.
His slim hands, those long fingers, put down the Apple Pencil with a clink to the desk, and hold up the iPad for my perusal.
It’s a clean design. He nailed the brief.
A series of illustrations for the client’s social media, of their new mascot. The one he was tasked with creating on his first day.
The posts are supposed to be something light, mildly funny, inoffensive to all, that will endear existing and new followers to their brand. Not pitching a product, just wholesome and a little entertaining. Kind of rare in today’s day and age, but we’re shooting for more than visibility for them, but increasing brand loyalty as well. Taking a less serious approach to their social media presence for one whole quarter, on a trial basis.
For a mid-size accounting firm? It’s a scary step in their very conservative, traditional eyes. Based on the surveys we’ve done of their target market, I’m fully confident it’s the right move. After I saw Asher’s portfolio, I knew he was the one for the job.
My head didn’t let me down, yet again.
Good ole Ellie brain, still battin’ a thousand.
I let the smile that’s trying to emerge break free and shine from my face. He returns a smaller one.
It’s an old-school accounting ledger, you know, one of those notebooks people had to use before the invention of computers, and it’s wearing a green-tinted visor, got a real vintage vibe going on, it screams sixties. Neutral tones, muted shades. Classic, with a modern flare.
Anyway, the first one he’s drawn, the ledger is leaned back in a beach chair, arms behind its head, eyes blissfully closed, enjoying a vacation in the sand and surf, because presumably, all the work has been done.
It’s clean, simple, it gives an instant impression, and it’s fucking adorable, too.
“Nice job, Asher.”
“Yeah?” His eyes dart up from where his head is tilted down to meet mine. Warm. Earthy. Grounded.
“Yeah. You fucking nailed that.”
He plops the iPad back on the desk and leans back in the chair so it dips backward with his weight. “Thanks.”
“Do you have ideas in mind for other illustrations in the series if the client green-lights it?”
He nods slowly, just once, a languid and carefree motion, full of assurance. “Yep.”
“Why don’t you shoot me an email with the draft of the first design, and the next few ideas, and I’ll get with their account manager and start the ball rolling.”
Another tilt of his head, the chair goes upright again, and he gets to work, bouncing between the iPad at his side and the desktop computer in front of him.
I’ve got a good feeling about the next few months.
SIX
ELLIE
I took Chrissy’s advice.
I’m dressed in my new black lingerie I splurged on at Nordstrom last weekend after our brunch together.
Waiting in the foyer for David to get home.
On my knees.
It’s Thursday again, and I swear to God if he asks me why I’m kneeling on the floor for him when it’s taco salad night, I will probably takeanotherpage out of Chrissy’s book and punch him straight in the nads.
Luckily, he’s got just enough caveman in his DNA that there’s no mistaking my intention when he opens the door, takes off his tie, hangs his keys on the peg on the front wall, and turns to spot me there.
