...with a splash of Kay, page 11
“Wait, are your lips bigger?” I asked, noticing they were plumper.
“Yes! I didn’t think anyone would be able to tell. I just got filler last week, but I think the plane made them swell!” She walked over to the mirror and lit up with contentment. “Ah, they’re huge!”
Without responding, I checked my phone. This was the first day since the anniversary event I hadn’t received a desperate text from Adam. I didn’t want to talk with him but took comfort in knowing he was still trying.
“Hello? Do you see how great these look?” Sisi asked again, pointing to her lips.
“Huh, no. Sorry, let me see,” I asked, distracted as I scrolled through mine and Adam’s previous messages.
“Can you get off your phone? We only have a short time until we leave.” I put my phone down.
“Is it that Natasha girl again? What happened now?”
“No, no, it’s not her.”
“Good, because we can’t have her ruining our trip.”
“Ever feel like you can have everything but still feel so alone?” I asked, reciting the same line Natasha asked me at the party.
“It’s called a vibrator, sweetie.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“Kidding! Is this about Adam? Kay, that dude is not worth your time.”
“No, it’s not even that. It’s just the feeling of being alone.”
“Kay, he sucks. The sooner you focus on what you have going on that is positive, the better off you’ll be. Plus, I’m here! And I need you to get out of self-sabotage mode to help me get ready. Now tell me, how great do my lips look?”
Thirty minutes later and we were ready. Sisi truly fit the bill. She had on pink latex booties that wrapped up to her knees, an oversized, off the shoulder pink tie-dye T-shirt, and no pants. Her wavy blonde extensions were long and flowy.
“You look great! It’s giving Barbie meets pop star vibes,” I told her.
“Perfect!”
“What bag are you wearing?”
“This one!” Sisi held up a pink latex box-shaped bag. “What about you?” I showed her the pink baguette I brought.
“Love it! Now get your shoes on. I need a drink.” I slid on bright pink shoes with a transparent wedge, which contrasted with my fuchsia corset and three-quarter-length, wide-legged pants.
The party kicked off the official launch of Brunch in a Bottle, a canned nonalcoholic beverage brand. In my research, I learned their team aimed to sell themed mocktails, like mimosas, Bloody Marys, and Bellinis, in ice buckets at boozy brunches across the country. Thus far, they’d only had a soft launch but performed strongly, in large part because it resonated with young people who’ve been quitting drinking in droves.
Knowing LaToulle’s board wanted to expand our audience, I was keen on convincing their team that we could blow them up. As for Sisi? In addition to her love for a good theme party, she also thought they might be a good fit to sell at Lola’s.
—
The festival took place in a field several acres wide. Clusters of vendors under white tents took over, and I couldn’t identify where they ended. A diversity of guests representing various industries and professions swarmed the place—some in business attire, some in hipster wear, and most in casual, posh clothing.
Once Sisi and I were in, we spotted several attendees in pink and presumed they were headed to the Pink Party too. As we followed them, I noticed how attractive and styled they looked and was glad I coordinated my outfit. It relieved some of the impostor syndrome I may have felt otherwise.
A black stanchion blocked the only pink tent in the field. It appeared we were attending the only exclusive party in Austin, yet no one was there to guard the entrance.
“Maybe it’s just for optics?” I asked Sisi, hoping there wasn’t a guest list.
“Hmm, maybe.” Unfazed, she lifted the rope to let us in. Apprehensive, I looked around to see if anyone saw us, but I didn’t see staff anywhere. I followed Sisi, closing the rope behind me.
“Miss! Miss!” A few seconds later, a rambunctious woman wearing a black suit flailed behind us. Her lanyard indicated she worked here.
“This event is for invited guests only. Do you have an invitation?” A few of the other attendees stared at us as she stormed at Sisi and me with a scanner in hand. Great, just the entrance we needed.
I didn’t know what to say. We hadn’t been invited, but I absolutely needed to go to this event. I had planned my pitch for days.
“Um, I don—” Before I could answer, Sisi stepped in.
“Excuse me, but I’m Sisi Schwartz with Lola’s Lounge and Bar. Part of LAR hospitality. Is there any reason we can’t attend?”
“Yes, ma’am. This is by invitation only.”
“Well, I don’t have one.” Sisi acted like her response was enough to justify our entrance.
“You cannot, under any circumstances, enter without it.” It was a humbling reminder that we were not, in fact, very important people. As Sisi and the young woman entered a stare-off, I saw Lilly coming our way.
“Abigail, you can let ’em in! They’re with me.” Abigail reluctantly let us through. Mortified, I thanked Lilly. Her long black hair, slicked back in a tight ponytail, paired gorgeously with her pink pantsuit. She looked equal parts chic and professional.
“Oh, it’s nothing. She can be a real arse! I’m just glad you’re both here. And what great outfits you’ve got on!” she said before leaning in for a double air kiss with Sisi.
“You two know each other?” I asked, pointing to Lilly and Sisi.
“Of course!” Sisi said. “Lilly writes for Moxy. She interviewed me for the feature on Lola’s a few weeks ago.”
“No, no, sweetie. That feature was about you! I was so impressed with how you’ve resuscitated that place. It’s one of my favorite spots in town these days! It’s a delight to see you here.” Lilly took us to Moxy’s table with her colleagues, all of whom were invited. On the way, we passed a flower-themed photo booth and stilt walkers sprinkling rose petals above the crowd.
But none of this distracted me from why I was really here. I needed to meet the Brunch in a Bottle team. I just wasn’t sure where they were.
“Honestly, I find the Brunch in a Bottle concept pretty interesting, but they need a new name. How drab!” Lilly said about an hour into the party. She, Sisi, and I were taking photos in the flower-themed photo booth.
“Right! Hopefully, they hire my firm, and we can help them rebrand,” I said as we held up flower props.
“Boozies or something catchier,” Sisi chimed in before we took another photo.
“Right! This isn’t even a bottle!” Lilly said as we took our last photo. “Hey, do you see that woman over there?” Lilly asked after we left the booth.
“No, who?” I turned around.
“Don’t be so obvious!” I turned back, embarrassed. “Okay, look again, but more discreetly. She’s wearing the pink blazer.” This time, I saw the woman Lilly referenced. “She’s the marketing director for Brunch in a Bottle and the one you’re going to want to talk with.” I nodded before scoping out how best to approach this woman.
I envisioned myself getting tongue-tied or tripping on my way over. Then I thought about not speaking with her at all. Not being able to tell Samantha I landed us a potential client… That was scarier.
I combed my hair with my hands, adjusted my corset, and walked up to the woman in the pink blazer. “Excuse me. Hi.” She looked puzzled. “Hi, sorry, I’m Kay with LaToulle Relations.” The woman’s expression changed from uncertain to appealing.
“Ah, the renowned Samantha. You work for her?” she asked.
“Um, yes, I do.”
“Ah, lucky girl. She’s a legend. What do you do for her?”
“I’m a client lead. I focus on creative branding and marketing for our clients.” This was only partially true. While I’d worked on Henry’s the past few weeks, I was only an associate and by no stretch resolved of my administrative and entry-level work.
“Well, Ms. Creative, I’m Myra, and it’s lovely to meet you. Tell me, what do you think about Brunch in a Bottle?” This was my moment to tell her what I’d been brainstorming.
“I love the concept! Seeing how younger generations are increasingly moving away from alcohol but still enjoy going out, I think it’s a hit! And the flavors, they’re good. But I do find the packaging and branding need work.” I surprised myself with how little I withheld.
“Well, tell me what you really think!” Myra laughed.
“I really believe you’d be a great brand for LaToulle. There’s so much we can do to build off your initial success. With a few enhancements here and there, I see Brunch in a Bottle going national. Just like that!” I snapped my finger.
“Here’s my card. When you get back to New York, why don’t you and Samantha give me a call?”
“Of course, we’d love to.” Did I really just do that? Elated, I headed back to the Moxy table, ready to share the news with Sisi and Lilly.
“That is just fabulous, Kay! I know exactly how we can celebrate,” Lilly said. “Our team loves you both and wants to invite you to our work dinner.” Her colleagues were as friendly and outgoing as she was, so Sisi and I said yes without hesitation.
The dinner was at an oak farmhouse, and Moxy’s reserved table—longer than LaToulle’s boardroom—was set in its backyard. They strung big, bulbed lights above the table and decorated the yard in pink floral to match the Pink Party theme. I emailed a picture to myself as inspiration for a future event.
“Is this a media event or something?” Sisi asked Lilly.
“We’re writing a feature for Brunch in a Bottle.” I assumed this meant they had good funding—music to my ears.
By the end of dinner, Sisi and I were beat and too full to go anywhere else. In the taxi back to our hotel, the driver played Miley Cyrus. We sang the lyrics in between gossiping about our night. Austin didn’t feel so lonely after all.
Inventory
* * *
I again took pleasure in my expensed Wi-Fi on the flight back to New York with Sisi. I started writing my Monday to-do list when she bumped her arm against mine to get my attention. I took out my headphones.
“What’s up?”
“Look at this photo!” She showed me an image of Lola’s newly repaired wall, where the drapes I picked up a few weeks ago had been.
“Who sent that? The repair looks great!”
“Milo. He finally finished. But no, not that! Well, yes, it looks good, but look on the side here.” It was Olivia sitting at the bar. “What doesn’t she get about not being allowed there?” Sisi shook her phone like she was about to yell at it, her plumped lips pursed like a fish.
“Okay, okay.” I pushed her hand down to insinuate, Calm down for a moment. “I think she’s just bummed that you two aren’t friends. Think you can talk it out?”
“Kay, I’m going to need you to realize she’s toxic. Tox. Ick.” Sisi was right, and once again, my detest for conflict overrode my rationality. I just couldn’t shake my soft spot for Olivia. She was one of the first people I met in the city.
“I’m sorry, Si. I know it’s frustrating.” I avoided discussing their conflict further. I was more excited to hear about Milo. “So, to not so subtly change the subject—does this mean Milo is finished at Lola’s? Like, finished finished?”
“He’s finally done! I needed him to do a lot, and I’m so glad it’s over. He was getting pricey!” I was disappointed to hear I might not see him again. “Wait, why are you asking?” Sisi questioned.
I gave her a look like, You know why.
“Ah!” she shrieked. A man across the aisle gave us a dirty look. “I love this! He’s so nice and so so, so cute!”
“Yes, he is. But he’s also a handyman.” I released a phony laugh.
“Oh, gosh, Kay. Who cares? You really need to get over this complex you have. You’re so worried about everyone else all the time. What about you? Milo is such a nice guy, and he’s hot. Why wouldn’t you go for it?” I pondered a moment while the man across the aisle grew more annoyed with our conversation.
“I think that guy wants us to be quiet,” I whispered to Sisi.
“And? I’m talking at a normal level. If he has a problem, he can ask for earplugs.” She made another good point. “Look, I won’t tell you what to do, but he’s a nice, hardworking guy. It’s about time you dated someone like that.”
“Well, if I’m not going to see him at Lola’s again, maybe I’ll text him.”
“You’ve got nothing to lose!”
So, I did just that before Sisi showed me potential suitors on her dating apps, her long fake nail tapping the screen as she scrolled.
On Monday, I was less anxious about the weekly meeting. Dare I say, I was a little excited to share my trip with Samantha. Instead of obsessing about what I’d bring to the table, I actively listened to my colleagues’ updates. As I did, I realized I could handle their same responsibilities, like managing a disgruntled client or drafting a press release for an expanded product launch.
I kept this outlook when it was my turn to unveil the news about Brunch in a Bottle. My colleagues’ feedback was swift and encouraging.
“It’s a good idea we start expanding our clientele,” one said. “To-go drinks are everywhere.”
“We need to hop on that,” another said. I imagine they also liked that a growing client list meant larger bonuses.
“I knew I sent you there for a reason, Kay! Send me their website, and I’ll take a look,” Samantha chimed in. I noticed Natasha’s head faced down. It was evident as ever that Samantha favored me as the stronger associate.
After LaToulle, I went to Lola’s. But unlike my recent shifts, Milo’s absence was palpable. I wanted to see him again but still hadn’t gotten a reply to my text.
“What do you mean he hasn’t responded?” Sisi was surprised when I told her. I even had to show her the text as proof. “How strange. You’re a catch! I think you should text him again. Maybe he didn’t get it.”
“How desperate would that be!” But I did it anyway.
Kay: Thought I’d hear from you by now…
I then prepared for the shift ahead. Maybe Sisi’s advice would work and I wouldn’t be as single by the end of it.
As the crowd picked up, the motion of pouring drinks and wiping the counter became mundane. Even though I only worked a couple days a week, I remembered why I traded in tips for taxes. While some aspects of bartending were really fun—meeting new people, free drinks, and discounted food—the whole slicing limes and dodging creepy comments got tired.
When I had a chance to check my phone, Milo still hadn’t responded. Maybe the issue really is me. I must have assumed too much and too quickly.
A few more dinner guests and a decent sized happy hour crowd later, we did last call. I had another thirty minutes to finish cleaning the bar when a customer asked me when I was getting a real job. The nerve. I just hoped he got the hint when I shot back, “This is my real job. What do you mean?” I then realized the hypocrite in me to prematurely judge Milo for being a handyman. The irony, because even he didn’t want to go out with me.
I turned in my bank to Sisi and collected my tips. I quickly swallowed my sour grapes from earlier when I counted three-hundred dollars. The cash made up for the mundanity of my night and motivated me for my next shift.
On my way home, as I mentally recited my to-do list for the next day, my phone pinged.
Milo: Wow, completely missed your text. Of course, I want to see you. Tell me when and where.
Finally! My waiting for him to answer only made me more intrigued. I suggested we go out for an early drink on Friday afternoon. It was Cinco de Mayo, and I had the day off from LaToulle as an annual celebratory holiday, one Samantha thought only right to pay homage to.
Mixer
* * *
Today’s call with Brunch in a Bottle had to go well. Earlier this week, Samantha got upset with me after I didn’t immediately respond to her “urgent” email—it wasn’t—at 5:30 p.m. on a Tuesday. She even requested we “have a talk.”
Truth was, I went to the bar early that day because Sisi needed help and Samantha was traveling. I thought I’d get away with it but was wrong because Samantha asked that, moving forward, I always be available before 6:00 p.m., especially in light of my recent client responsibilities.
I hated her calling me out. This was the first time my second job jeopardized my primary job, and I wouldn’t let it happen again, even if making five hundred dollars left me wondering if the tradeoff had been worth it after all.
—
“I never imagined Brunch in a Bottle would get here! That I’d work with the Samantha LaToulle,” Myra admitted on our call later that week. “But I won’t lie. We’re pretty desirable right now.” She let out a laugh.
“Oh, we know!” Samantha responded. “You’ve got a great product. We’ve traditionally only worked with established clients, but we believe in your brand.”
The call continued on just as positive a note. Myra shared their vision, current challenges, and why they were ready to hire a PR firm, though she was notably more excited to speak with Samantha than me, leaving me to feel like a fly on the wall of a meeting I organized.
“Let us discuss how we can be the best firm for you, and I’ll get back to you tomorrow. We want to make this the absolute right fit,” Samantha rounded out our call.
“Thank you, Samantha. This is why your reputation supersedes you!” Myra hung up. I waited for Samantha to gush openly about how great this opportunity was. But she didn’t.
“Okay, so let’s think about this. The goal is to expand their audience. The early twenties to mid-thirties range, right?”
