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Sarah’s gaze followed her. “You didn’t write on the board the thing you said yesterday about thinking better on your feet because of the shoes.”
Lola drew up short and eyed the group. “Is that something significant?”
Todd nodded. “This is a process, Lola. Seeds can be discarded or they can be cultivated. If we don’t plant them, we’ll never grow a garden.”
“Right.” She bit back the grin. They allowed her to write on the board once more. How cool was that?
“My thought,” Jen interjected, “is that we have varying degrees of how a woman’s shoes impact her entire existence. For example, I can’t wear the sexy stilettos or peek-a-boos that might have been the star of this whole campaign if we hadn’t pulled in the diversity aspect. I have hobbit feet.”
All eyes landed on Jen, and she shrugged while her cheeks flushed.
“Seriously,” she continued. “It’s so embarrassing. I won’t wear strappy sandals or any other revealing style. I stick with the classics. The basics. Because I just don’t have attractive feet, and my toes are, well, weird and stubby. My husband teases me and says my mom pulled my socks too tight when I was a baby, and so my toes sort of curl under. But…” She wagged a finger as she made her point. “I can still find the perfect Staci Kay shoes to fit my style and every outfit in my closet.”
Lola smiled. A little something about Jen’s confession jerked her heartstrings. Jen had opened up to the group. Lola wondered if it was because she’d shared a little about herself the day before.
Lola said, “We all have insecurities. Yet we can find the right boost with Staci Kay shoes. We wouldn’t be here otherwise, would we?”
“My wife, Krista, is short,” Mark blurted. “Like, really short. Four-foot-eleven. Can’t even make that five-foot mark. But that woman in five-inch heels?” He grinned, and it lit his dark-brown eyes. “She’s kick-ass.”
“See?” Lola said. “We’re not just selling shoes. We’re selling attitude. Confidence. Even altitude.”
Mark laughed. “It’d be safer for us all if we didn’t mention that last one to Krista.”
Todd closed his leather portfolio and stood. “Good work, people. Keep it up.” He left the room, followed by his director and manager.
Lola took another leap of faith and asked her coworkers, who lingered around the table, “Where do we go from here?”
“Lunch,” Sarah said.
“Stingray Sushi,” Jen chimed in.
“Awesome,” Mark added.
Tiff asked, “I’m invited too, right?”
Sarah eyed her for a moment, seemingly debating, as though they typically didn’t ask the administrative assistant along, then said, “Yes. There’s still some shoptalk we need to cover. And we’re expecting you to make the ad agency appointment happen on Monday. For sure. They have to be here.”
“They don’t respond that quickly,” Tiff said, a hint of nerves in her voice. She clearly hadn’t figured out how to go toe-to-toe with Sarah yet. Being included with the team, however, was obviously paramount to her.
“They will this time,” Sarah said in a firm tone. “You heard Todd. He’s all over this campaign. Sell it, Tiff.”
Tiff’s gaze slid to Lola, and her chin lifted. A hint of determination flickered in her hazel eyes. “They’ll be here,” Tiff asserted. “And you’ll blow them away.”
Lola didn’t really know what to make of this turn of events, but as she stared at the team that had started to embrace her and her campaign concept, she said, “Do whatever you have to, Tiff. We’ll be ready for them. More than ready.”
“Hell, yeah,” Mark said.
Sarah and Jen concurred.
In that instant, Lola felt as though—after three long years of wanting this job—she’d finally “made” it.
“I can’t do this without you all—Tiff as well,” she told them. “I know how I feel about the campaign, but let’s face it. Something this big isn’t one person’s vision.”
Mark said, “That’s why we meet every morning and throw whatever shit we can at the whiteboards to see what sticks.”
“So eloquently put,” Jen snickered.
“You know what I’m saying,” he commented. “And we do need to work more cohesively. This project proves how important it is that we act as a team.”
