"Well, from the posts I’ve seen,” Delia says, dabbing her mouth with a paper towel as if she wasn't wearing a dress that could pay my rent for a year, "your event was way better.The food at Tom's event was micro-gastro-whatever.Foam and…grass, and…" she wrinkles her nose.“And the live performance artist?I don't need to see some naked lady reading bad poetry."
Hunter snorts."High-brow bullshit is what that was."He indicates me."You had real food, I saw.And a string quartet.”
I can't help but feel good about this comparison."I mean, yes.I figure even rich people need to eat, right?Full stomachs equal generous donors.At least, that's my philosophy.Food is always the centerpiece of my events."I glance at Eliza's closed door."Our events."I meet Hunter's eyes, and then Delia's."Please don't get the wrong impression of Eliza.She's not like that very often.She worked hard on the guest list, and then half of them jumped ship for Tom's event.So, she consoled herself with the champagne."
"Well, I'd say you had a successful event anyway, so be proud," Delia says."And trust me, we don't judge.In my family, it's not a party until someone passes out."
Hunter polishes off one last piece and then wipes his hands clean on a paper towel, sitting back and eying me speculatively.“In the interest of transparency, Miss Kaplan, this was an interview…of sorts.And none of it was an accident."
I blink."Um.What?"
"Honey, may I?"Delia squeezes her husband's thigh, and he goes quiet, sipping his drink."We—my family—own a little chain of bars and restaurants, most of them in Alaska."
I nod."I've heard of Badd's Bars.There's a location in Hollywood, isn't there?"
She nods, smiling."There is.We're expanding further into the interior—meaning into the heart of Alaska."
“Okay?"I'm not exactly sure what this has to do with me, but I’m willing to let it play out.After all, "interview" suggests employment, and if I could book an event with Hunter Fucking Hawkins?My career as an event planner is locked in.
"We're opening a wilderness resort.It's sort of in the middle of nowhere, actually.The closest town is thirty minutes away.The whole idea is an unplugged retreat.There's no cell signal, no wifi, and no televisions."Hunter has taken over, now."The idea is corporate retreats, team building, digital cleanse weekends, stuff like that."
I frown."Huh.Interesting.People will pay to be inconvenienced?"
Delia snorts."Big bucks, yeah.It's a new thing.There'll be hikes into the bush, guided photography hunts, all sorts of events like that.Get people out into nature and reconnecting with their primal selves."
"Sounds…" I struggle for a good word.
"Like a lot of woo-woo bullshit?”Hunter says, laughing."Maybe.But don't knock it till you've tried it.I've taken several groups on test runs, and we've gotten rave reviews.And I’m talking stuffy suits from Manhattan.It's gonna go gangbusters."
I laugh, shrugging.“Okay, sure, I believe you—you’re the billionaire here, not me.But what does this have to do with me?I'm not a resort runner, I'm an event planner."
"Oh, no."Delia grins."We've got staffing all sorted out.No, what we need you for is…well…planning an event."
"You've got my interest."
"It's a grand opening, first and foremost, but it's also a fundraiser," Hunter says."The nearby town, from which we're drawing a lot of the local, year-round staff, has a fundraiser for cancer victims.They recently had a Guns ’N Hoses hockey game, and we figured it would be a good way to sort of ingratiate ourselves with our new neighbors and labor pool if we pitch in for the cause."
My nose wrinkles."Hockey?ew."
Delia covers her mouth, stifling a laugh."Don't let Alaskans hear you say that.Especially not the folks in Tomlin Falls.It's not just a sport around there, it's a way of life."
I shake my head.“Sorry, I don't mean any offense, I just…I don't sport.And hockey in particular?What kind of sport lets you beat each other up as part of the game?It's barbaric."
Delia laughs like I've said something hysterical."Oh, man.I happen to agree with you, but that's part of what makes it so much fun to watch."
"We can agree to disagree on that."I hold up my hands."Let me first say, that regardless of my personal feelings, if the fundraiser is hockey-themed, I’ll show up in a jersey.When I commit, I commit a hundred percent."
"Good to hear," Hunter says.
"So, what's the timeline?"I ask."I've got events booked out for a good seven or eight months, but I’m wide open beyond the fall."
Hunter and Delia exchange looks.“That's the thing," Delia says."We're in a bind.The event is in three weeks, and our planner just had an emergency C-section."
I nearly spew Diet Coke everywhere."Um…threeweeks?What's done?"
"The guest list, obviously the venue since we are the venue, and being the venue we’re handling the catering—well,providing, nothandling."Delia casts a thoughtful glance ceilingward.“I think she got in a little over her head, to be honest.She's a local woman.We thought it would be good to keep it local, you know?But…maybe it was baby brain—god knows I was a spaz when I was pregnant.She just…she left a mess, and we need it fixed, ASAP.And here you are."
"Um."
