...with a splash of Kay, page 13
“Um, I can’t today.”
“What about later this week?” I pressed, despite her hesitation.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Grab me Thursday. My calendar is pretty light.”
“That’s when Samantha leaves, right?” I asked.
“Yeah, she leaves that morning.”
“Perfect, so let’s go out after that!” I set up a calendar date with Natasha for Thursday, emailed Myra to meet on Friday, and asked Milo if we could have our next date this weekend. Everyone agreed except Milo.
Milo: Can’t wait until the weekend. Meet me at the High Line Wednesday? On your time, any time. I’d love to see you.
Samantha had a weekly doctor’s appointment on Wednesdays at 2:00 p.m. How could I not agree?
Kay: Okay, you have me for an hour at 2 p.m. Wednesday, 14th Street entrance.
I loved that Milo willingly flexed to my schedule so I didn’t have to try and fit into his. And I was excited to explore where this flirtation could go. We had a chemistry, but romantic chemistry? I wasn’t sure yet. I just knew I wanted to find out.
Sweet and Sugared
* * *
The overcast sky made for a cooler spring day. Perfect for meeting Milo at the High Line, an old subway line turned into an outdoor walking path in downtown Manhattan. It cut through beautiful high rises and greenery.
I knew I had a crush on Milo because I put extra effort into my outfit today. I even bought a new bomber jacket last night for today’s date. It paired well with my dark green cargo pants and white, low-rise sneakers. Not that I felt pressure to look any type of way with Milo, but I fed into his streetwear style, and he noticed.
“You look nice,” he greeted me before leaning in for a hug. “Remind me. How long do I have you for?” He took my hand and led me up the stairs to the High Line.
“An hour. No more, no less,” I teased.
“Dang, I was hoping you’d change your mind and I’d have you longer.” I should have realized Milo asked me here because of the architecture. I assumed he wanted to share his knowledge about the buildings and hotel designs, especially after I showed interest in the subject on our previous date. And he was right. I enjoyed learning about his work. Almost as much as I enjoyed the people watching. A combination of local New Yorkers and tourists—with a more sophisticated taste for exploring the city beyond typical areas like Rockefeller Center and Time Square—strolled along the walkway.
Milo pointed to several buildings we passed to tell me about their history and design concepts. Each time he leaned in, the smell of his cologne was as sexy as the strength of his arm muscle against mine. Surrounded by dozens of people, I somehow felt alone with him, and I wanted more.
“I could really use a pick me up before heading back to the office,” I said after we passed a coffee stand about thirty minutes into our walk.
“Long night ahead?”
“Uh, yeah. But once Samantha leaves, I’ll have more time to myself.”
“Well, let’s get you caffeinated then. I won’t keep you too much longer.” It began raining as we waited in line. “Ah, está chispeando,” Milo muttered in Spanish. It was the first time I heard him speak it.
“Huh?” I asked.
“Ah, I said it’s drizzling. This weather reminds me of Miami.”
“You lived in Miami?”
“Yup. Before New York and after Spain.”
“Ah, so you were a party boy?” I joked, trying to glean more into Milo’s past.
“Ha, just a little bit. I actually went to the University of Miami for undergrad. My English wasn’t great at the time, so I moved somewhere that wouldn’t be a problem. I just hated how rain would come out of nowhere. Kind of like this.” We looked up at the sky and then down the walkway. People began dashing for cover, the rain growing more intense.
“Well, this isn’t Miami, but it looks like it’s about to downpour!” I said. In seconds, the drizzle turned into heavy rain. Milo took off his jacket and swung it over our heads. He led us inside Chelsea Market, an oversized shopping center in the Meatpacking District with various cafés, eateries, and stores. Inside, he shook out his wet coat, took my hand, and navigated us through a packed corridor of people to a small bakery.
“Let me guess. You helped build something in here too?” I asked, wondering how he knew how to get around.
“Actually, no. I just smelled something really good.” I laughed because he was totally serious. It smelled like freshly baked bread and sugary cupcakes.
A crowd of people must have had the same idea because they amassed around us as we incidentally stood in the bakery’s line. Elbows bumped us from left and right, so Milo stood behind me and placed his arms over mine to mitigate the blows. I felt his chest against my back and gave into an urge I could no longer resist.
I turned around and kissed him, my lips against his face, a bit wet from the rain. He pulled away to look at me, his eyes opened in shock, his mouth with a slight grin. Without another word, we kissed again. Slowly, passionately. Again, I could have sworn we were the only two in the room.
“Hey, you two gonna order or what?” a grumpy man yelled at us from behind.
“Geez, get a room!” another murmured under her breath. We stepped up to the counter. Ruffled, I ordered a flat white, and Milo ordered a coffee with cream.
“I got it,” I said, wanting to repay him for our first date. I also had the extra cash to spend more easily these days. We moved to the second counter and waited for our drinks. I felt the tension between us like I wanted to kiss him again. He must have read my mind because he looked at me and leaned in.
For the first time in my life, I was one of two people, in public, who absolutely “needed to get a room.”
Back at the office, I wasn’t sure how I’d get the butterflies out of my belly or the smile off my face. Today proved that Milo was, most definitely, not in the friend zone. At my desk, I took a deep breath and sent him a message,
Kay: I made it back. Thank you for showing me another side of the High Line I hadn’t seen before.
Milo: Thanks for showing me another side of you I hadn’t seen before.
His instant reply gave me goosebumps. I looked around to see if anyone saw me grinning at my phone screen. Contrary, my colleagues had their heads down working. I assumed all for the same reason—Samantha was leaving tomorrow, and there was a lot to do beforehand. Suppose I should join them.
A few hours later and an expensed late-night takeout meal to the office, I finished preparing for my meeting with Myra. I planned to scan over my inbox one last time when I saw Natasha walking toward our desks. She had a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Please tell me you’re up for a drink,” she said. I was surprised to see her initiate such an amicable gesture.
“I was just about to leave, but why not?” This was surely a better way to crack Natasha than a coffee date tomorrow afternoon.
She poured a glass of South African Chenin Blanc, a bottle from the office collection. Samantha often received beverages as gifts, so many that she ordered a separate wine cooler for the staff.
“Cheers!” Natasha toasted my glass.
“Cheers,” I conceded.
The office had nearly all but cleared out as we sat adjacent to one another—me at my desk and Natasha at Andre’s. For once, he actually left on time.
“So, what are you working on before you leave?” she asked. In an attempt to form a friendship, I showed her the Brunchies campaign. “Hm, not too bad,” she said, looking over my pitch.
A drink later and I knew more about Natasha than I ever thought I would. To my surprise, she wasn’t as enthusiastic about LaToulle as she let on. “Honestly, I just want to move back to Canada and forget about this place. I’m only here to show my parents I’m as great as Bri, but they’re not convinced.”
“So you don’t want to stay at LaToulle?” I figured now was as good a time as ever to get her angle on the client lead role.
“Want? I have no choice,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m here on a work visa. If I don’t stay at LaToulle, I’m almost certainly going home.”
“Kind of sounds like what you want, right?”
“Uh, does anyone really know what they want?” Natasha took another sip of her wine. She was clearly a lightweight and definitely confused. I thought it best not to press her further, but she continued on freely. “I mean, I could stay here and go after a better role. I did talk to Samantha about that.”
“Wait, really?” I couldn’t believe she’d talked with Samantha about her trajectory before I did.
“See, this is why I don’t drink. I get tipsy too fast and say too much.”
“No, no, it’s okay. That’s great for you!” I put on a warm smile that felt cold inside.
“I guess so. Hard to know what she was thinking, though. You must be eyeing that client lead role, right?”
“Um, I hadn’t really thought about it.” I lied through my teeth but didn’t want to give away that I’d not been savvy enough to talk to Samantha yet.
“Mm.”
We finished our drinks, walked out together, and jumped on our respective trains home. Is this what it was like to have a frenemy?
Make It a Double
* * *
My meeting with Myra was top of mind this morning as I prepared to pitch my idea for rebranding Brunch in a Bottle to Brunchies.
My outfit resembled the office. I wore a white blazer, white pants, and just a dash of color—my royal blue heels. It was a bold choice I hoped would help exude the confidence I was starting to build. You got this, I told myself on the way to the meeting.
At the start of the video call, only myself, Myra, and one of Myra’s associates were on. No Samantha. We waited a couple of minutes and through some awkward silence when I had a feeling Samantha wouldn’t join. It wasn’t like her to ever be late.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Myra. Let me ping her again,” I said.
Kay: I’m on the Zoom with Myra. Do you need the meeting ID?
“Should only be a moment,” I reassured Myra, who over video wore a blank expression.
Samantha: Can’t make it today. You got it. Send me an update later.
Her text sent a lump through my throat.
“My apologies, but Samantha can’t make it. If you’re willing, I’d love to walk through our pitch without her.” I searched for Myra’s reaction through the camera. She looked disappointed but assented.
Over the next ten minutes, I recited the pitch I gave Samantha a few days earlier, only this time with her recommended tweaks. I emphasized the legacy of LaToulle, including the type of clients we typically worked with but that, like the broader culture, we were evolving too.
“Trends clearly show those turning the legal drinking age are, in fact, not drinking. They’re going so far as to label binge drinking ‘cheugy,’ a term coined against millennials to describe someone who is out of date or trying too hard.”
Myra laughed. “Oh yes. We know what cheugy means. It’s what we’re trying to avoid.” Her approval gave me relief, so I moved on to the name reveal.
“I’m glad you agree because, with this vision in mind, we also believe Brunch in a Bottle would be better received if it wasn’t called, well, Brunch in a Bottle.” Though Myra had been commendatory thus far, suggesting a name change was a big deal.
“Brunchies,” I announced and screen shared a suggested logo. “And each flavor has a fun twist, like Peach-a-lini, Miss Mosa, and Hail Mary,” I continued, animating each can on the shared screen. I paused for her reaction, but Myra remained quiet. Looking away from the camera, her expression took a one-eighty. As I wavered on what to say next, the conference room door swung open.
“Kay! Samantha can’t make your meeting with brunch something.” It was Andre, a little too late and a lot too inappropriate. “Oh, sorry, ladies. I see you’ve already started.” He pursed his lips and tiptoed out of the room, as if it’d erase what he’d just done.
I had a few options—go cold and fumble the call; run out of the room and pretend I never met Myra; or continue on, knowing Andre’s words spoke for him. Not me.
I chose the latter. “Myra, what are you thinking?” I finally asked.
“I’m not sure.” I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me.
“What about it don’t you love?” I stuck to the content. I didn’t let her concern deter me.
“Well, the whole Brunchies thing. It will be a lot of work for us to rebrand the cans… and the names. Aren’t they a bit cheesy?”
Shit. My heart dropped, and my head wanted to too. But I wore a smile and remained present as our conversation unfolded.
“I hear you. This is the first go at it. How about we come back with a few more ideas, and—”
“As I said, I don’t love it. But I could be proven wrong. I have no idea about the market in New York. I’m an Austin girl, born and raised.” She gave me an inch. How could I take a mile?
“Why don’t we try a proof of concept? Beta test the rebrand in New York. We know the market here and restaurants that could help promote it.” Myra nodded.
“Okay, okay.” I could tell she was ruminating on the idea. “Okay,” she said a third time. “Let’s do this. I’ll speak with the manufacturer. They should be able to implement the new logo in a couple of weeks.” Myra talked over logistics, her associate taking notes, then we settled on a date.
“Fourth of July it is! We’ll host a launch party you won’t forget. I even have the perfect venue in mind.” Because this time, I did. A wave of optimism rushed over me. I couldn’t wait to share the news with Samantha.
Pinot Noir
* * *
Sisi: Take the night off. I’m all set! But let’s do after-work drinks tomorrow?
Kay: Yes! Also, I can help with any extra shifts you need covered. My body is finally adjusting to bartending again.
Fast cash is instantaneously rewarding, and I’d become accustomed to the extra buffer each week. I especially loved indulging in takeout lattes and lunch and wasn’t willing to give it up anytime soon.
Sisi: Of course. Can you work Sunday brunches?
Kay: Perfect!
It wasn’t lost on me how lucky I was to curate the schedule of my second job, especially with Samantha away. But considering I had this night off, I asked Milo if he wanted to see me, so long as it involved ordering in and bad TV.
Milo: I’ve been working too much. This sounds perfect.
Knowing Milo was coming over got me excited, especially because he’d be the first guy to visit my studio apartment.
—
“You’re a busy lady, huh?” Milo joked. He arrived at my apartment before me.
“Sorry! Subway trouble!”
“I hope you like red.” He lifted a bottle of wine in one hand and gave me a half-hug with the other. He wore fitted tan pants, a zip up hoodie, and the familiar pair of Vans. His smile revealed one dimple, only slightly concealed by his facial scruff.
“I do! Thank you! And I hope you like Pad Thai,” I said.
“Love it!”
Inside, he asked about my day right away. “Wait, you’re not going to let me change into comfy clothes first?”
“No! I want to hear all about your call. Plus, you look great in that suit,” he said. Smitten with his compliment, I kicked off my heels, the comfort of which made me want to rip off my bra too. But I was a lady, and I’d wait.
“I need a drink, you?” In my white suit, I poured red wine for us both.
“Doesn’t seem like I have a choice,” he said in jest before I passed him a glass. I sat on the couch across from Milo, my legs crossed. While telling him about my day, I threw my hair up in a loose bun, said like too many times, and accidentally swallowed too large a gulp of wine that I coughed. Milo was unfazed. With our romantic chemistry proclaimed at the High Line, I sat with him unworried about being me.
“So why wouldn’t Samantha join the call?” Milo asked.
“Ya know, I’m still not sure, but thinking more about it, she hardly interacts with clients aside from mingling at cocktail parties and schmoozing them on initial pitches. I mean, she’s been out of the office more than she’s been in it this year.”
“Do you think she just knows you can handle it for her?” Milo suggested.
“Yeah, maybe. I just always thought I’d learn more from her when it came to clients. But she left me on my own with this one.” I shrugged and took another sip of wine.
“Sounds like you’re more than capable on your own, but if you want a mentor, it doesn’t sound like you’ll get it from that place.”
“I want a promotion! I love the client work but want to be paid for it. Our promotion cycle is, like, a month away. If I don’t get it, I’ll be so disappointed.” As the words came out of my mouth, I realized just how badly I wanted it and how much pressure I felt to earn it.
“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t get it. But make sure they give you what you’re worth. In my last job, my boss took advantage of my work ethic. Dangled small bonuses in front of me, which kept me much longer than it should’ve. I’m just glad I finally started working for myself.”
“What do you mean by your last job?”
“In Miami before I came here for grad school.” Milo told me how he’d managed large teams and multimillion-dollar projects. “There was a lot of pressure, and I kept thinking I’d get a bigger salary, a better title, but it never came.”
“But look at you now! You’ve got your own business!”
“Yeah, but it’s not always so great. When I’m out of school, I’ll get my own staff, and they can deal with the hands-on stuff.” He laughed and took a sip. “I mean, it’s fine.”
“What about later this week?” I pressed, despite her hesitation.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Grab me Thursday. My calendar is pretty light.”
“That’s when Samantha leaves, right?” I asked.
“Yeah, she leaves that morning.”
“Perfect, so let’s go out after that!” I set up a calendar date with Natasha for Thursday, emailed Myra to meet on Friday, and asked Milo if we could have our next date this weekend. Everyone agreed except Milo.
Milo: Can’t wait until the weekend. Meet me at the High Line Wednesday? On your time, any time. I’d love to see you.
Samantha had a weekly doctor’s appointment on Wednesdays at 2:00 p.m. How could I not agree?
Kay: Okay, you have me for an hour at 2 p.m. Wednesday, 14th Street entrance.
I loved that Milo willingly flexed to my schedule so I didn’t have to try and fit into his. And I was excited to explore where this flirtation could go. We had a chemistry, but romantic chemistry? I wasn’t sure yet. I just knew I wanted to find out.
Sweet and Sugared
* * *
The overcast sky made for a cooler spring day. Perfect for meeting Milo at the High Line, an old subway line turned into an outdoor walking path in downtown Manhattan. It cut through beautiful high rises and greenery.
I knew I had a crush on Milo because I put extra effort into my outfit today. I even bought a new bomber jacket last night for today’s date. It paired well with my dark green cargo pants and white, low-rise sneakers. Not that I felt pressure to look any type of way with Milo, but I fed into his streetwear style, and he noticed.
“You look nice,” he greeted me before leaning in for a hug. “Remind me. How long do I have you for?” He took my hand and led me up the stairs to the High Line.
“An hour. No more, no less,” I teased.
“Dang, I was hoping you’d change your mind and I’d have you longer.” I should have realized Milo asked me here because of the architecture. I assumed he wanted to share his knowledge about the buildings and hotel designs, especially after I showed interest in the subject on our previous date. And he was right. I enjoyed learning about his work. Almost as much as I enjoyed the people watching. A combination of local New Yorkers and tourists—with a more sophisticated taste for exploring the city beyond typical areas like Rockefeller Center and Time Square—strolled along the walkway.
Milo pointed to several buildings we passed to tell me about their history and design concepts. Each time he leaned in, the smell of his cologne was as sexy as the strength of his arm muscle against mine. Surrounded by dozens of people, I somehow felt alone with him, and I wanted more.
“I could really use a pick me up before heading back to the office,” I said after we passed a coffee stand about thirty minutes into our walk.
“Long night ahead?”
“Uh, yeah. But once Samantha leaves, I’ll have more time to myself.”
“Well, let’s get you caffeinated then. I won’t keep you too much longer.” It began raining as we waited in line. “Ah, está chispeando,” Milo muttered in Spanish. It was the first time I heard him speak it.
“Huh?” I asked.
“Ah, I said it’s drizzling. This weather reminds me of Miami.”
“You lived in Miami?”
“Yup. Before New York and after Spain.”
“Ah, so you were a party boy?” I joked, trying to glean more into Milo’s past.
“Ha, just a little bit. I actually went to the University of Miami for undergrad. My English wasn’t great at the time, so I moved somewhere that wouldn’t be a problem. I just hated how rain would come out of nowhere. Kind of like this.” We looked up at the sky and then down the walkway. People began dashing for cover, the rain growing more intense.
“Well, this isn’t Miami, but it looks like it’s about to downpour!” I said. In seconds, the drizzle turned into heavy rain. Milo took off his jacket and swung it over our heads. He led us inside Chelsea Market, an oversized shopping center in the Meatpacking District with various cafés, eateries, and stores. Inside, he shook out his wet coat, took my hand, and navigated us through a packed corridor of people to a small bakery.
“Let me guess. You helped build something in here too?” I asked, wondering how he knew how to get around.
“Actually, no. I just smelled something really good.” I laughed because he was totally serious. It smelled like freshly baked bread and sugary cupcakes.
A crowd of people must have had the same idea because they amassed around us as we incidentally stood in the bakery’s line. Elbows bumped us from left and right, so Milo stood behind me and placed his arms over mine to mitigate the blows. I felt his chest against my back and gave into an urge I could no longer resist.
I turned around and kissed him, my lips against his face, a bit wet from the rain. He pulled away to look at me, his eyes opened in shock, his mouth with a slight grin. Without another word, we kissed again. Slowly, passionately. Again, I could have sworn we were the only two in the room.
“Hey, you two gonna order or what?” a grumpy man yelled at us from behind.
“Geez, get a room!” another murmured under her breath. We stepped up to the counter. Ruffled, I ordered a flat white, and Milo ordered a coffee with cream.
“I got it,” I said, wanting to repay him for our first date. I also had the extra cash to spend more easily these days. We moved to the second counter and waited for our drinks. I felt the tension between us like I wanted to kiss him again. He must have read my mind because he looked at me and leaned in.
For the first time in my life, I was one of two people, in public, who absolutely “needed to get a room.”
Back at the office, I wasn’t sure how I’d get the butterflies out of my belly or the smile off my face. Today proved that Milo was, most definitely, not in the friend zone. At my desk, I took a deep breath and sent him a message,
Kay: I made it back. Thank you for showing me another side of the High Line I hadn’t seen before.
Milo: Thanks for showing me another side of you I hadn’t seen before.
His instant reply gave me goosebumps. I looked around to see if anyone saw me grinning at my phone screen. Contrary, my colleagues had their heads down working. I assumed all for the same reason—Samantha was leaving tomorrow, and there was a lot to do beforehand. Suppose I should join them.
A few hours later and an expensed late-night takeout meal to the office, I finished preparing for my meeting with Myra. I planned to scan over my inbox one last time when I saw Natasha walking toward our desks. She had a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Please tell me you’re up for a drink,” she said. I was surprised to see her initiate such an amicable gesture.
“I was just about to leave, but why not?” This was surely a better way to crack Natasha than a coffee date tomorrow afternoon.
She poured a glass of South African Chenin Blanc, a bottle from the office collection. Samantha often received beverages as gifts, so many that she ordered a separate wine cooler for the staff.
“Cheers!” Natasha toasted my glass.
“Cheers,” I conceded.
The office had nearly all but cleared out as we sat adjacent to one another—me at my desk and Natasha at Andre’s. For once, he actually left on time.
“So, what are you working on before you leave?” she asked. In an attempt to form a friendship, I showed her the Brunchies campaign. “Hm, not too bad,” she said, looking over my pitch.
A drink later and I knew more about Natasha than I ever thought I would. To my surprise, she wasn’t as enthusiastic about LaToulle as she let on. “Honestly, I just want to move back to Canada and forget about this place. I’m only here to show my parents I’m as great as Bri, but they’re not convinced.”
“So you don’t want to stay at LaToulle?” I figured now was as good a time as ever to get her angle on the client lead role.
“Want? I have no choice,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m here on a work visa. If I don’t stay at LaToulle, I’m almost certainly going home.”
“Kind of sounds like what you want, right?”
“Uh, does anyone really know what they want?” Natasha took another sip of her wine. She was clearly a lightweight and definitely confused. I thought it best not to press her further, but she continued on freely. “I mean, I could stay here and go after a better role. I did talk to Samantha about that.”
“Wait, really?” I couldn’t believe she’d talked with Samantha about her trajectory before I did.
“See, this is why I don’t drink. I get tipsy too fast and say too much.”
“No, no, it’s okay. That’s great for you!” I put on a warm smile that felt cold inside.
“I guess so. Hard to know what she was thinking, though. You must be eyeing that client lead role, right?”
“Um, I hadn’t really thought about it.” I lied through my teeth but didn’t want to give away that I’d not been savvy enough to talk to Samantha yet.
“Mm.”
We finished our drinks, walked out together, and jumped on our respective trains home. Is this what it was like to have a frenemy?
Make It a Double
* * *
My meeting with Myra was top of mind this morning as I prepared to pitch my idea for rebranding Brunch in a Bottle to Brunchies.
My outfit resembled the office. I wore a white blazer, white pants, and just a dash of color—my royal blue heels. It was a bold choice I hoped would help exude the confidence I was starting to build. You got this, I told myself on the way to the meeting.
At the start of the video call, only myself, Myra, and one of Myra’s associates were on. No Samantha. We waited a couple of minutes and through some awkward silence when I had a feeling Samantha wouldn’t join. It wasn’t like her to ever be late.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Myra. Let me ping her again,” I said.
Kay: I’m on the Zoom with Myra. Do you need the meeting ID?
“Should only be a moment,” I reassured Myra, who over video wore a blank expression.
Samantha: Can’t make it today. You got it. Send me an update later.
Her text sent a lump through my throat.
“My apologies, but Samantha can’t make it. If you’re willing, I’d love to walk through our pitch without her.” I searched for Myra’s reaction through the camera. She looked disappointed but assented.
Over the next ten minutes, I recited the pitch I gave Samantha a few days earlier, only this time with her recommended tweaks. I emphasized the legacy of LaToulle, including the type of clients we typically worked with but that, like the broader culture, we were evolving too.
“Trends clearly show those turning the legal drinking age are, in fact, not drinking. They’re going so far as to label binge drinking ‘cheugy,’ a term coined against millennials to describe someone who is out of date or trying too hard.”
Myra laughed. “Oh yes. We know what cheugy means. It’s what we’re trying to avoid.” Her approval gave me relief, so I moved on to the name reveal.
“I’m glad you agree because, with this vision in mind, we also believe Brunch in a Bottle would be better received if it wasn’t called, well, Brunch in a Bottle.” Though Myra had been commendatory thus far, suggesting a name change was a big deal.
“Brunchies,” I announced and screen shared a suggested logo. “And each flavor has a fun twist, like Peach-a-lini, Miss Mosa, and Hail Mary,” I continued, animating each can on the shared screen. I paused for her reaction, but Myra remained quiet. Looking away from the camera, her expression took a one-eighty. As I wavered on what to say next, the conference room door swung open.
“Kay! Samantha can’t make your meeting with brunch something.” It was Andre, a little too late and a lot too inappropriate. “Oh, sorry, ladies. I see you’ve already started.” He pursed his lips and tiptoed out of the room, as if it’d erase what he’d just done.
I had a few options—go cold and fumble the call; run out of the room and pretend I never met Myra; or continue on, knowing Andre’s words spoke for him. Not me.
I chose the latter. “Myra, what are you thinking?” I finally asked.
“I’m not sure.” I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me.
“What about it don’t you love?” I stuck to the content. I didn’t let her concern deter me.
“Well, the whole Brunchies thing. It will be a lot of work for us to rebrand the cans… and the names. Aren’t they a bit cheesy?”
Shit. My heart dropped, and my head wanted to too. But I wore a smile and remained present as our conversation unfolded.
“I hear you. This is the first go at it. How about we come back with a few more ideas, and—”
“As I said, I don’t love it. But I could be proven wrong. I have no idea about the market in New York. I’m an Austin girl, born and raised.” She gave me an inch. How could I take a mile?
“Why don’t we try a proof of concept? Beta test the rebrand in New York. We know the market here and restaurants that could help promote it.” Myra nodded.
“Okay, okay.” I could tell she was ruminating on the idea. “Okay,” she said a third time. “Let’s do this. I’ll speak with the manufacturer. They should be able to implement the new logo in a couple of weeks.” Myra talked over logistics, her associate taking notes, then we settled on a date.
“Fourth of July it is! We’ll host a launch party you won’t forget. I even have the perfect venue in mind.” Because this time, I did. A wave of optimism rushed over me. I couldn’t wait to share the news with Samantha.
Pinot Noir
* * *
Sisi: Take the night off. I’m all set! But let’s do after-work drinks tomorrow?
Kay: Yes! Also, I can help with any extra shifts you need covered. My body is finally adjusting to bartending again.
Fast cash is instantaneously rewarding, and I’d become accustomed to the extra buffer each week. I especially loved indulging in takeout lattes and lunch and wasn’t willing to give it up anytime soon.
Sisi: Of course. Can you work Sunday brunches?
Kay: Perfect!
It wasn’t lost on me how lucky I was to curate the schedule of my second job, especially with Samantha away. But considering I had this night off, I asked Milo if he wanted to see me, so long as it involved ordering in and bad TV.
Milo: I’ve been working too much. This sounds perfect.
Knowing Milo was coming over got me excited, especially because he’d be the first guy to visit my studio apartment.
—
“You’re a busy lady, huh?” Milo joked. He arrived at my apartment before me.
“Sorry! Subway trouble!”
“I hope you like red.” He lifted a bottle of wine in one hand and gave me a half-hug with the other. He wore fitted tan pants, a zip up hoodie, and the familiar pair of Vans. His smile revealed one dimple, only slightly concealed by his facial scruff.
“I do! Thank you! And I hope you like Pad Thai,” I said.
“Love it!”
Inside, he asked about my day right away. “Wait, you’re not going to let me change into comfy clothes first?”
“No! I want to hear all about your call. Plus, you look great in that suit,” he said. Smitten with his compliment, I kicked off my heels, the comfort of which made me want to rip off my bra too. But I was a lady, and I’d wait.
“I need a drink, you?” In my white suit, I poured red wine for us both.
“Doesn’t seem like I have a choice,” he said in jest before I passed him a glass. I sat on the couch across from Milo, my legs crossed. While telling him about my day, I threw my hair up in a loose bun, said like too many times, and accidentally swallowed too large a gulp of wine that I coughed. Milo was unfazed. With our romantic chemistry proclaimed at the High Line, I sat with him unworried about being me.
“So why wouldn’t Samantha join the call?” Milo asked.
“Ya know, I’m still not sure, but thinking more about it, she hardly interacts with clients aside from mingling at cocktail parties and schmoozing them on initial pitches. I mean, she’s been out of the office more than she’s been in it this year.”
“Do you think she just knows you can handle it for her?” Milo suggested.
“Yeah, maybe. I just always thought I’d learn more from her when it came to clients. But she left me on my own with this one.” I shrugged and took another sip of wine.
“Sounds like you’re more than capable on your own, but if you want a mentor, it doesn’t sound like you’ll get it from that place.”
“I want a promotion! I love the client work but want to be paid for it. Our promotion cycle is, like, a month away. If I don’t get it, I’ll be so disappointed.” As the words came out of my mouth, I realized just how badly I wanted it and how much pressure I felt to earn it.
“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t get it. But make sure they give you what you’re worth. In my last job, my boss took advantage of my work ethic. Dangled small bonuses in front of me, which kept me much longer than it should’ve. I’m just glad I finally started working for myself.”
“What do you mean by your last job?”
“In Miami before I came here for grad school.” Milo told me how he’d managed large teams and multimillion-dollar projects. “There was a lot of pressure, and I kept thinking I’d get a bigger salary, a better title, but it never came.”
“But look at you now! You’ve got your own business!”
“Yeah, but it’s not always so great. When I’m out of school, I’ll get my own staff, and they can deal with the hands-on stuff.” He laughed and took a sip. “I mean, it’s fine.”
