Chapter Six
Three Years Ago
Downtown Portland, Oregon
The Mayfairs
“Tonight is the Christmas party, so please tell me you’ve made sure you can be home by five to get ready?” I ask Jack who’s standing at the kitchen counter waiting for his coffee to brew.
“Yes, I’ll be home by six at the latest and ready to go by seven.”
“Good. Cause I hate work functions alone.”
“You hate work functions at all,” Jack laughs.
He’s right. I’m not the biggest fan of work functions. I do all the PR and advertising for Mayfair Homes, so I should probably go and show my face and pretend that I love spending my evenings with the people I already spend eight hours a day with.
“I know. How about we go out for drinks afterwards?”
“Perfect! Maybe we can just make a quick appearance and leave early.”
“Maybe, but then how would you mingle with all the contacts you’ve brought to the business? You’re good at your job, Emi. You should put on a smile and be proud of that.”
“Why do you always have to be so good at making me feel better? Maybe I wanted to pretend I’m always irritated, instead of proud of what I’ve done.” I can’t help but laugh because even though I put on a serious face at work and around the clients, Jack knows I love what I do. I may not love the furniture business, but I love that I’ve helped grow this company into one of the top home stores in the area.
“It’s cause you’re cute.” He winks before patting me on the behind and heading towards the front door. It’s not like my job is nearly as important as his job as a lawyer. Not that he’ll ever admit that. He says he went into law because his dad was in the business and he always wanted to be like his father. But I don’t think that’s really it. Jack is the second top lawyer at his firm and he works so hard for people he barely knows. I’m proud of him and I know he’s proud of himself. “I’ll see ya tonight.”
When I get to work, my boss Aron Mayfair is waiting for me at my desk. “Emi, I have an idea that I wanted to run past you.”
“OK, shoot.” I click on my computer and sit at my desk that he’s leaning against.
“Have you seen those commercials from businesses in town wishing their clients a Merry Christmas?”
“I have.”
“Can we turn this Christmas party into one of those? We’ve got just over 3 weeks until Christmas so you should have time to get everything lined up. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a great idea, Aron. I’ll get started on everything right now and arrange for our film crew to be there tonight. Leave it to me and it’ll be great.”
“One thing, though…” He stands away from my desk. “I want Greta to be the host of the show. Maybe she could walk around and ask questions to our employees.”
“I’m not sure what kind of show it will be?” I ask, thinking he was talking two-minute commercial here. “Really the ad can’t be more than a couple of minutes.”
“I know, I know, but Greta gets so much attention everywhere she goes and she wants to become the face of the company. I’m thinking what better way to start than with a Christmas and New Year ad?”
“OK, maybe we can have her ask clients about their New Year’s resolutions and just do a Happy Holidays ad as opposed to a specific Christmas ad?”
“Perfect! I’ll let her know. What time should she be there tonight to get started?”
Shoot. I didn’t want to come to this party at all, and now I have to work it. So much for arriving with Jack, I guess we’ll just meet up there. “Um… Maybe have her meet me at five, that will give us an hour to work through her performance and get ready.” When I say ‘performance’, I mean that as loosely as possible. A holiday commercial is hardly much of a performance, or ‘show’, as Aron keeps calling it.
“I knew I could count on you, Em. You’re a star!”
“You know who Greta Mayfair is, right?” Morgan, my camera guy, flips open a magazine he brought with him. A tall, thin, half-naked, blonde woman stares back at me.
“Whoa.” I stare down at the picture even though I suddenly feel a little dirty. This girl has no shame and apparently not a lot of morals from the looks of it.
“That’s just the pic I felt comfortable showing you. She’s done full-out nude.”
“So, then, why come work for her dad’s furniture store, if she’s basically a playboy bunny?”
“They fired her. I guess she’s a real bitch. No one wants to work with her anymore so her daddy is saving her.”
“How do you know so much about this?” I ask Morgan, who’s busy setting up his camera and technical supplies.
“You saw that picture. Every man knows about her.”
“Gross. Well let’s just make sure she’s wearing clothes and everything should go fine.”
“I hope so.” Morgan nods towards the doorway.
She looks exactly like her picture. She’s got to be almost six feet tall, probably something like a size double-zero, her long blonde hair is perfectly curled with not a strand out of place and her skin would make a porcelain doll jealous. I’d say she’d be perfect as the face of the company if it wasn’t for the Jessica Rabbit dress she’s wearing, with cleavage falling out of the top and a slit cut up to her hip on the right side.
“Are you Esmeralda?”
“No…” I reach out and shake her outstretched hand. “I mean yes, but I don’t go by Esmeralda, you can call me Emi.”
“Emi, great. So, what kind of show are we going for here? So I know what kind of character I’m playing.” She flips her hair behind her shoulder and then puts her hands on her hips.
“Character?” I ask, a tad confused. “It’s not really a show per se; but more of a two-minute commercial slot. We’re going to have you work the room and ask people about their New Year’s resolutions before getting a group shot of everyone shouting Happy Holidays.”
“So…” She rolls her eyes as if it’s part of her profession. “You’re telling me that I’m doing a commercial?”
“Yes?” I ask it as a question, unsure of what her father told her, and glance back at Morgan whose eyes are as wide as saucers. His stare bores through her barely-there dress, as if he is trying to use X-ray vision. Besides what he just showed me in the magazine, I’m not sure there is a lot more to see.
“Ridiculous. I told Daddy that I could do so much more than this. I should not have ruined that contact with E! for my own show.”
Morgan and I exchange glances wondering what planet this girl thinks she’s on. Not that I have any doubt, what-so-ever, that she’s perfect for the E! channel. She has that Kardashian vibe.
“This will be fun,” I reassure her, hoping that the diva in her stays away long enough for me to shoot this commercial.
“Whatever. Where’s the dressing room? I need to touch up my makeup.”
A laugh suddenly escapes my throat, causing Morgan to start coughing to cover it up.
“We don’t have an actual dressing room, but the bathroom is down the hall to the right and it’s really nice.” Her face stays stone-still and her eyes never leave my own. “I can show you? But in all honesty, you already look amazing.”
That brings a small smile to her face.
“I’ll take your word for it.” She flashes an obviously fake smile and glances around the room. “Who decorated this?” she suddenly asks. The decorators, caterers, and employees are still here, tirelessly working getting the place ready for the party that starts in less than an hour.
I made sure it looked Christmassy since we are also shooting a commercial tonight. There are six eight-foot-tall Christmas trees around the room, fully decorated, loaded with fake presents. Garlands and twinkle lights hang from the ceiling, and the tables have centerpieces that would make a Christmas bride jealous. It’s truly gorgeous, and cost far more than I would ever, ever pay myself.
“We hired a company,” I say, grabbing the list of questions I made up for her.
“They did an OK job.” She glances over at the bartender. “I’m going to just grab a drink.”
“Greta—” I rush to her side, hoping getting trashed is not on her agenda. “I actually have a list of questions I need you to look over.”
“I already know what I’m going to ask.” She waves my paper away and beelines to the bar.
Five minute ago she asked what character she needed to play and yet suddenly she’s prepared with questions she didn’t even know she had to ask? I find that more than hard to believe.
“This is gonna be a nightmare.” Morgan stands at my side watching her sashay her tiny ass to the bar and immediately flirt with the bartender who seems mesmerized by the spell that is Greta Mayfair.
“Hi, babe.” Jack leans in and kisses my cheek.
He’s here right on time, but since I’m a tad pre-occupied with not bringing out the evil from within Greta I don’t even have a minute to spend with him like I’d planned.
“I’m so sorry I have to work during this.”
“It’s no problem. Did you get something to eat?” he asks me, being the great boyfriend that he is.
“I haven’t. You should, though.” I’m starving, so knowing that I might not have time to eat, from the menu that I worked so hard to get perfect, is irritating to say the least.
“I’ll bring you a plate. How about you?” he asks Morgan, who shrugs his shoulders before glancing at me for permission.
“I can always eat.” Morgan is my favorite camera guy because he’s the most honest guy I’ve met. When you ask him a question you’d better really want the truthful answer, because he will give it to you.
“I’ll be right back.” Jack heads in the direction of the buffet.
“Greta.” I approach her at the bar. “We need to get started. Maybe just work the room and start asking questions about people’s New Year’s resolutions.”
Greta glares at me. “What’sh your name again?” she slurs, almost knocking me over with the smell of liquor on her breath. I’d say she’s drank as much as possible as quickly as possible in the last thirty minutes, and is now the most flammable thing in the entire room.
“Oh my God, she’s drunk. I am so getting fired,” I mumble. I don’t know why, it’s not like she’s sober enough to comprehend much. “Emi is my name. Do you think you can still do the commercial?”
“Of course, I can, I’m a professional actress and model. Why would you even ask that?” She stands, stumbling just a bit on her stripper heels. “You worry about the cameras and I’ll do the rest.”
“Perfect,” I say, hoping she’s too drunk to notice the condescending tone in my voice. I turn to Morgan who starts filming. “Just start following her around I guess.”
“This is going to be epic.”
I glare at him. “Stop. It’s going to be fine.” I hope. If nothing else, at least we’ll have a potential viral video on our hands.
Morgan and I follow Greta halfway around the room and film her asking a few people some questions that she doesn’t slur through. She’s obviously got experience keeping her cool on camera when wasted. I’m sure she’d make any reality TV station a fortune. The tabloids would eat her up.
“Oh!” she yells and turns towards me. “I found a co-shtar.” She points towards the table where Jack is setting plates. “He ish…delishish.”
There are a few too many shs in her words for me to deny the fact that she’s completely lit. And now she’s after my boyfriend.
“What? No, he’s my fiancé. He doesn’t want to be in the commercial.”
“That’sh your fianshé? No way?!” Her emphasis on your makes my skin crawl. Why would she be so surprised that Jack is with me?
“Come on.” She prances across the room, hardly even wobbling on her platform heels. Her drunken strut is nowhere near as clumsy as mine would be.
Morgan and I follow her across the room, which seems to be at the speed of a moderate jog. I motion to Morgan to stop filming and he wastes no time setting down the camera and grabbing the plate of food Jack got for him.
“Hey, Ems.”
“You. Are. Beautiful.” Greta pulls Jack against her and breathes into his ear.
“I, uh—” he looks over at me, eyes widened, a stunned look on his face.
“I’m so sorry, Jack, this is Aron’s daughter, Greta. She’s supposed to be my host for the commercial we’re trying to shoot.”
“Oh.” He kindly reaches back and removes her hand from his ass before putting both his hands on her shoulders and pushing her away from him. “Nice to meet you, Greta.”
I bite my bottom lip hard to keep from completely losing it at his disgusted face. From the looks of it you’d think Greta has some kind of infectious disease that Jack is trying to keep away from. I’m sure there’s an STD or three floating around areas I’d rather not picture.
“Yhou are perfffect, we ssshould do thish together.” Her drunkenness is really starting to show now. The extra sounds within her words are becoming more and more exaggerated.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice Aron is heading in our direction. Shit.
“Greta, your dad is coming.” Why can’t he mingle instead of choosing now to check on how his star of a daughter is coming along in her performance?
She immediately straightens up and loops her arm through Jack’s, holding onto his elbow as if he was walking her down the aisle. Or maybe she’s just using him as a stabilizer in case she loses her balance. “Daddy, have you met my date?”
“I haven’t.” He ignores me and heads straight to Jack, hand extended. “It’s great to meet you, son, what do you do for a living?” Trust Aron to immediately quiz a potential suitor of his daughter’s on what he does for a living.
“Um… I’m a lawyer at Morgan, Steller & Cabot?” Jack says it like he’s not even sure, and glances at me for assistance.
“A lawyer—”
I cut Aron off. “Actually, Aron, this is my fiancé, Jack.” I get a confused look from both Greta and Aron. ‘You actually met him last summer at the company picnic?’ I stare at his shaking head and scrunched face. He obviously doesn’t remember.
“He belongsh wifth me.” Greta glares down at me. “Daddy, telll himm.”
“Greta is a fine young woman. But if he belongs to Emi, I respect that.” It’s as if we’re talking about an object, which I can tell by looking at Jack is not something he’s very impressed with.
“WHHAT?!” Greta yells, gaining the attention of the people near us. “No. Look at him? He’sh gorgeoush, he’sh well off and shhe is jusht… ugh!” The disgusted noise coming from her makes me want to crawl into a hole and die. If only she would hiccup randomly through her sentences she’d be the description of an obnoxious drunk. “Shhe should be wifth hims.” She points to Morgan, who has a steak halfway to his mouth without using a fork. “He’sh like, ew and she’sh like, ew. Jusht trusht me… I’ll take goood care of hiiimm.” She pats Jack’s ass again with her free hand and tries to plant a kiss on his lips, but stumbles over her own step, tightening her grip on Jack’s arm that is outstretched to keep her away.
“I don’t think so.” Jack somehow manages to escape her grip, causing her to fall over and slump down into a nearby chair. “I’m with Emi and I’m perfectly happy with that.” He wraps an arm around me, pulling me as close to him as possible before clearing his throat and loosening his tie with his free hand. “But I’ve no doubt, any man would be lucky to have you.” He politely smiles at Aron but avoids direct eye contact with crazy Greta. Likely for fear that she’ll take it as some kind of marriage proposal.
My Jack. Always the gentleman, in even the strangest of situations.
Greta suddenly starts wailing some kind of snorting cry or distress signal, and Aron kneels down by her chair. A few sniffs into the air and I’ve no doubt he’s discovered she’s had more than just one drink. “What did you do to her?” Aron asks me, pointing at a now slurring, sobbing, slumped-over Greta.
“Nothing. We were trying to prep her on the commercial—”
“SHHOW!” Greta yells the word at me.
“And she was only interested in the bar so we uh—”
“So, you just let her get wasted?” Aron stands so that we are again at eye level.
“No. No, sir. We didn’t let her, she’s an adult. I just… She’s quite a handful and—”
“So, let me get this straight, I’m paying for a film crew—” He glances at Morgan, who is hardly an entire crew. “And the host is slurring, crying, and being humiliated by your fiancé.”
“I didn’t humiliate anyone, actually—” Jack shakes his head at Aron.
“Emi…” Aron is avoiding direct eye contact with me and shaking his head. “I thought you were right for this job. But with Greta coming into the picture, I can see that jealousy has taken over, as it always does when women are around my Greta.”
“WHAT!?” Jack, Morgan, and I say in unison. He has got to be kidding me. Jealous? Of Greta?! I don’t think so. Maybe I’m a little envious that I can’t pull off the dress she’s wearing, but that’s it.
“I am not jealous of Greta.” The disbelieving laugh I’ve been trying to stifle surrounds the words I’m using as my defense. Which makes me sound completely disrespectful. Although, in this particular situation, who would be married to respectful at this point? I mean come on, I’m in trouble because a grown woman decided to get wasted when she knew she was working. How is this my fault?
“It’s funny now?” Aron throws his hands in the air.
“No. Not funny, just… crazy! You can’t be serious about this? She’s a full-grown adult. I can’t make her not drink. I suggested it, but she wouldn’t listen. In fact she’s been talking down to me all night long. What did you expect me to do?”
Jack squeezes my hand. Probably as a signal that I should shut up and not make the situation even worse, but I can’t seem to go down without a fight.
“I’ll have you know that this entire situation has been utterly humiliating for me. If you’re now upset because she’s turned into this…” I point over at her. Her mascara is running down her face and her skin now a pale shade of green.
The retching noise she makes as she leans over to throw up on her father’s shoes turns all the heads that weren’t already in our direction.
“Ohh… That’s never good,” Morgan says behind me.
Aron momentarily closes his eyes through a giant heaving sigh. “I’m sorry, Emi. I’ll need you to pack up your things. Unfortunately, I’ll have to let you go.”
“You’re firing me?! For what?”
“For letting Greta become wasted at what was supposed to be our company Christmas Greeting recording and party. I expected you to be able to handle anything thrown at you in this job. This entire situation is hardly professional, and I think you and I both know it.” He directs his statement at both Morgan and me.
“You’re right,” I shout. “The entire night has been completely unprofessional. Your daughter is the most conniving, manipulative person I have ever met, and I’ve only known her for an hour. The fact that you are punishing the only person who tried to keep things professional is a testament to her manipulating even her own father. Good luck keeping your company afloat with her as the face of the business.” The grip I have on Jack’s hand is probably injuring him. Holy Moses, I’ve snapped. A drunk, nude model has caused me to have a complete breakdown, and I’m standing in the middle of a party screaming at my boss.
“You can excuse yourselves now.” With a wave of his hand, he expects me to be gone for doing nothing wrong. “You, though,” he points at Jack, “you will apologize to my Greta for making her feel badly about herself.”
“I don’t think so! If anything she should be apologizing to everyone in the room.” Jack looks between Greta and Aron for a moment. He rolls his eyes skyward and nods with an irritated laugh. “Let’s go.”
Jack and Morgan work quickly grabbing his equipment and bags. “This is insane,” I bark at them as I grab my purse. “I’m taking these.” I pile the three heaping plates of food on top of one another and quickly shove the full bottle of wine chilling in an ice bucket in the center of our table, into my bag. I did all the work, so I should at least taste the menu.
My heels clack across the floor as I follow Jack and Morgan through the room. The eyes of my co-workers are following my every step. If I was really evil, I’d post whatever video Morgan got on the internet as soon as possible. But I can’t. I may have just had an epic meltdown in front of hundreds of people, but I can’t ruin anyone, not even Greta.
“I don’t even know what just happened.” I look up at Jack when I catch up with him.
“Me neither.” Jack’s face is netted with confusion. “That was… insane.”
We’ve all made it to the front of the building and stand staring at each other in disbelief. This is definitely not the Christmas party experience I was expecting.
“I stole our plates… and this.” I pull the bottle of wine from my purse and watch both Jack and Morgan break out into laughter.
“Wow… You’re a fighter and a thief. I’m learning all kind of things about you tonight.” Morgan grabs a plate from the pile of three in my right hand. “Want me to upload this video? I got the whole thing.”
“You were filming that?” I ask him, surprised I didn’t notice it. I shove the wine back into my bag before handing Jack a plate of food.
“Well… I thought it might be useful for the impending lawsuit.” He winks at me.
“It’s tempting.” I look over at Jack who shakes his head with a small smile. “But my lawyer says it’s not a good idea.”
“I know. If you ever change your mind, though, I’ll save it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say to him. “I’m so sorry about tonight.”
“Don’t worry about it, they’re assholes.”
“I hope you find another playboy bunny.” I try not to scrunch my face in disgust as I say it, but I can tell my face isn’t co-operating.
Morgan laughs and winks at me. “No worries there, I’ve got a whole stack of 'em.”
“Ew,” I say before watching him toss his half-empty plate into a garbage can on the sidewalk, grab his bags and jog across the street to hop on the Max train.
Jack’s phone pings in his pocket.
“Oh no, is it work?”
His face suddenly tenses as he looks at his phone before handing it over to me.
Jack, I have connections. You’ll be hearing from me. Greta
“What the fuck?” I yell, nearly dropping my plate on the ground and startling an older woman walking past us with a bag of groceries. “She could hardly speak a straight sentence five minutes ago. Now she’s suddenly become Nancy Drew? How on earth did she get your number so fast?”
“She’s going to be a real pain in the ass.” Jack growls in irritation. I watch as he hits Delete and shoves his phone in his pocket. “Don’t worry about it, though, I want nothing to do with her.” He gives me a peck on the cheek and nods in the direction of the parking garage. “Dinner on the street as we walk to our car, there’s a date we’ve not yet had.”
“True.” I wish this situation was a little less stressful than it is. Jack’s trying hard to make light of it, but I just lost my job. A job I worked really hard at.
“Everything will work itself out for the best, you’ll see.” As if reading my mind Jack sends his usual positive vibe into the atmosphere.
I hope he’s right.