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Yet Lola still felt there was something missing from the campaign. As though she still wasn’t seeing the big picture. But the agency execs said they’d take her pitch and run with it. They’d have mock-ups by the end of the week.
The Marketing management seemed pleased, but Lola paced the conference room after everyone left and tried to latch on to whatever it was that she found so elusive. She had the sense that there was a broader market to tap into—but what was it? And how the hell was she going to crack the nut when the most significant thing on her mind was Alex?
Bristling a bit, she went about the rest of her day. She finally checked her cell, having turned it off after she’d left Alex’s house. She saw that he’d called. Repeatedly. He’d sent her a dozen or so texts as well. She ignored them all for the time being, focusing instead on the voicemail from her apartment complex. She called them back and found that her new pad was ready for her to move into, so she contacted the moving company that had stored her packed belongings in Baltimore and asked them to make the cross-country delivery.
In the meantime, she’d stay at her parents’ house. They weren’t due back for a few more days, right around the time her furniture and the rest of her clothes and shoes would arrive.
By Friday, Lola still hadn’t worked out in her mind what final thread needed to be woven into the ad campaign. Nor did she have any idea what to do about her situation with Alex. She’d fallen in love. He hadn’t. And that would have a huge impact on how they’d move forward as friends. Because Lola couldn’t go a single day without thinking about how badly she wanted him. Or how much she missed him. That was torturous. One friend couldn’t be in love
when the other could turn off his attraction with the snap of his fingers.
So… what? Not only were they no longer lovers, but they were no longer friends?
That thought tore her up and brought on the waterworks so that she had trouble putting her makeup on before work. She bypassed the mascara altogether and headed into the office.
Luckily, there was plenty to do to occupy her time and mind. As she stared at the mock-ups displayed on easels set along the back wall of the conference room, she saw her vision come to life. Not the hard-core dominatrix one, but the more flirty workplace-and-romance one that left a few things to the imagination, but was still suggestive enough to give the sense of strong women successfully conquering the boardroom and the bedroom. Being assertive. Taking initiative. Yet sharing the power.
“Leave Your Shoes On…” was the slogan the agency had gone with, and it totally worked with their mock-ups.
Lola gazed at the last proof, a bedroom with the door partially open, a man lying on the bed in briefs, a woman with her back to the doorway, resting her bent knee on the edge of the mattress and staring down at her soon-to-be-lover. She was in sexy lavender lingerie and even sexier purple Mary Janes. Very provocative.
Lola thought of Alex again. He’d liked her in lingerie and heels. Had completely lost it for her when she’d dressed up sexily for him.
And that’s when it hit her. Hard.
She said, “We’re missing the male demographic.”
“As in the gender-benders?” Jen asked.
“Do we even make shoes in size thirteen?” Tiff inquired.
“I’m not talking about transsexuals—although, yeah, that’s totally another market to consider. Right now, though, I’m thinking about men who like their women in sexy shoes. We should make it easy for them to keep their ladies in Staci Kay footwear. We should have a Staci Kay credit card. And gift cards. Do you know that we don’t have gift cards? I always found that odd. They should be a glossy black and say “Leave Your Shoes On…” scrawled in a crimson-colored font that looks like lipstick. And they should be available everywhere—all the places that have a gift card kiosk or mall. Even online.”
“Another killer idea. Product Development should have been all over that,” Jen said. “You’re on fire.”
Lola sighed with relief as she expelled the last of the I’m missing something with this campaign tension.
And celebrated over happy hour with the team.
She wished like hell she were with Alex instead.
* * *
The next day, Lola’s older brother, Jason, helped her hang pictures in her apartment as she unpacked them.
Jace was a former college star quarterback who could have gone pro had he not suffered an impossible-to-fix-and-rehab torn rotator cuff and multiple detachments of his biceps.
As he drilled holes in her walls, he said, “Great place, sis. Why isn’t Alex doing all this manly stuff for you?”
A painful thorn-in-her-side topic. She felt the prick deep in her heart, her soul. “Alex and I are taking a breather from each other.” Did she sound casual enough? Unaffected? Not devastated to the core of her being?
Apparently not, because Jace eyed her curiously. “You two get in a fight? Oh, shit, you didn’t mess up his condo too badly when you were staying there, did you?”
Lola sighed. “No. I totally respected his OCD ways. For the most part. I did sort of suggest we sleep together, though. No strings attached.”
“What?” Her brother’s eyes bulged. “What the fuck would make you do such a thing? Bad, bad idea, Lola. Bad.”
“Okay, fine. Lesson learned the hard way.”
