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“What?” I whisper, mostly to myself, in a state of shock. “When?”
“Looks like it happened very recently.” Shelby sighs.
Rothburke is another rising company in the world of high fashion. The owner, Sasha Rothburke, is a notorious diva who consistently makes headlines for her less than professional critique of other brands. Most recently, she has made videos discussing the lack of contemporary designs from our client, Diosa. Her spotlight was one of the major factors in Diosa’s focus on new digital campaigns.
“This can’t be a damn coincidence,” she mutters under her breath.
“Were there leaks we were interested in her?”
Shelby shrugs. “Could’ve been, but these things happen. It’s why we need to move quickly on talent.”
I slump back into my own chair, feeling sick.
My entire pitch isn’t dead, but it’s on life support with a massive hole through it. It’ll take hours to revise my plan. I should’ve known better. You always have a plan B and C with pitches of this caliber.
“When is Mr. Cavendish expected to arrive?”
“There is no current word on that. Last I spoke to him, he was en route to the airport,” she says, picking at something under her polished pink nail. “He did mention that there were storms in the area, which could delay his flight. He’s traveling private, so he will have a longer wait.”
Not that I wish storms on anyone flying, but this might work in my favor. The smaller planes won’t go out in iffy weather.
I nod, working through a plan. “This is good. I have time to develop another option.”
“You sure do,” she says, sounding like my very own cheerleader. “Good luck,” she says, standing and making her way to the door. “I’ll keep you informed on his timing.”
“Thanks, Shelby.” I don’t look up, already beginning my search.
The easiest transition would be a client on Paxton’s client list. Someone with a large following but who can grow with Diosa, showcasing the star power of the brand.
I make notes on several ideas, opting to offer a few in my pitch, as I should’ve done from the beginning. Next, I’ll need to tell each of their stories and how it complements Diosa. I need all the hours and minutes to perfect this before Charles arrives, but I know I can do it.
What’s the line from that one play? I gotta take my chance? Shot? Something like that.
Hours go by, and I’m still tinkering with the plan. I think it’s strong, but I don’t like last-minute changes. I’m the type of person who lets things marinate for a day or two, and this current situation isn’t allowing for it.
“Knock, knock,” Shelby says from the doorway. “I brought you some sustenance from the Thai restaurant around the corner.” I perk up at the mention of food. She walks in, carrying a large bag, and I wonder who all she ordered for. “They just delivered it.”
My eyes land on the wall clock opposite my desk, and I balk at the time. It’s past six. I missed lunch and would’ve probably worked right past dinner if not for Shelby. My stomach rumbles in protest, and I grimace.
“The cafeteria is closed,” she says, making her way toward my desk.
“Oh, my God, you are the best, Shelby,” I mumble. “How much do I owe you?”
She waves me off with her free hand. “It’s on Cavendish.”
I snort in response. “Well, in that case, thank you, Cavendish. But out of curiosity, who all are you feeding?”
She shrugs. “I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got a bit of everything.” She sets the bag on my desk and makes quick work of setting out the containers.
She ordered all my favorites, not even knowing. Pad Thai, ginger chicken satay, and pad prik have me practically salivating.
Shelby is the coworker and mentor you dream of having in a career. She’s given me space to work on my pitch and offered help whenever I’ve asked for it. I know without a doubt she has my back, and she hardly knows me.
“Any word on his whereabouts?” I ask, trying to help her open containers.
“No, unfortunately. I’m afraid you might be stood up.”
I sigh, having feared as much. “I’m sure he’s been very busy.”
