Page 41 of Spring Break Fling

I took a few minutes to compose myself. Then, I busted into the minibar. It was on the company. They could afford an eight-dollar water.

Dehydrated from drinking and dancing, I sucked down the water and thought about what I was going to say to my boss. I needed to stay positive. All was not lost. I could make the adjustments and save the pitch.

We had to. I needed to land this account.

I went back to the mini fridge and grabbed a Snickers. It was my weakness. When I was stressed, I needed sugar. Feeling fortified, I called Clarke to give him the rundown.

“The client’s assistant already emailed me,” Clarke said before I could even start. “Looks like there are some hefty adjustments you need to make.”

“I’ll get on it right away,” I promised.

“Hannah,” he said, his tone sharper than I was used to. “Why were there so many missed opportunities in your pitch?”

“Nerves.”

“The assistant asked how you were feeling,” he said. “They made it sound like you were sick. Are you sick?”

I wanted to crawl into a hole. “No. I’m fine.”

“You’re not one to be sloppy, Hannah. What have you been doing to prep?”

I winced. “I’m sorry. It was just a little jet lag. It won’t happen again. I have a better understanding of their expectations now. I’m going to get some sleep and I’ll make sure I’m fresh eyed tomorrow.”

“Good. Because this is no joke.”

“Yes, sir.”

The call ended, leaving me staring at the ceiling. The excitement I’d felt when I landed this pitch was starting to tarnish, replaced by creeping doubt.

Was I capable enough to pull this off? Was I talented enough?

Was this even what I really wanted?

No. I shoved that last thought away. Of course it was. This was my dream job—a huge step in the right direction.

I grabbed my laptop and started reviewing the pitch. I was determined to nail it on Monday. No more distractions. No more late nights at dive bars with sexy tattoo artists. I had to focus.

I was a little disappointed in myself. No, scratch that. I was a lot disappointed. The pitch looked so good on paper. My slides were beautiful. Unfortunately, I was working off what I thought they wanted. I should have reached out to the client myself to ask more specifics. I wanted to blame Clarke, but I should have taken the initiative to reach out.

Lesson learned.

If I was going to play with the big dogs, I needed to get a bigger bite. I couldn’t fall back on excuses. And I sure as hell couldn’t afford to slack off.

A knock at the door interrupted my spiral.

I opened it to find no one there, just an envelope propped against the doorframe. My name was scrawled across it in bold handwriting.

I assumed it was information from Clarke. It was a bit antiquated to send an envelope. He could have just sent me an email. Hell, even a fax.

I closed the door and opened the envelope. To my surprise, it wasn’t a stack of information.

It was a card. I opened it and found an invitation to an art exhibit.

Meet me there. 7 P.M. —Nikko

Well, that was a surprise.

I would say Nikko and an art exhibit go together like peas and carrots, something my grandma used to say, but I realized he truly was an artist.