“He is cute,” I admitted.
She nudged me with an elbow. “He thinks you’re cute too. Let’s go chat.”
When we returned to the boys, Jill struck up a conversation with Nate, sliding into her role as wingwoman.
Reeve moved closer to me. “So, you liked the show?”
“It was great.”
“What did you think about the modern feel of it?”
“It was the best. Master of the House was like a Jay-Z rap, and when you sang Empty Chairs at Empty Tables you sounded like the lead singer of Arcade Fire, and they’re only my favorite band ever.”
“Arcade Fire pretty much sets the standard for musical awesome. They’re amazing.”
“And so was your show. I was definitely into it.”
“What else are you into, Kat?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure if it was a prelude to a line, so I answered him directly. “Movies. I like movies. You?”
“I’d like to star in some movies,” he said. “I have an audition next week for a Joss Whedon film.”
“Wow. That would be incredible.”
I’d dated an actor once and it hadn’t worked out, but Reeve had the self-confidence Michael lacked. So as we talked about our shared love of all things Joss Whedon, I let my mind wander to his mouth, imagining what it would be like to kiss him. His lips were red and full, and he smelled of sweat and beer and the adrenaline of a fabulous opening night. I bet he tasted good, like charisma, like stage presence, like a star in the making who knew how to perform. I bet I’d enjoy the kiss. But I couldn’t kiss him tonight. I’d already been kissed by someone who could turn me inside out. By someone who had tilted my world.
When the night wound down, Reeve asked if I wanted to go somewhere quieter and have a nightcap. The offer would be tempting to almost any girl, but it was wasted on me. “I think you’re incredibly talented and will have an epic career,” I said to Reeve. “I have an early wake-up call tomorrow so I should go.”
I was caught up in Bryan, no matter how hard I tried to protect myself. He was the one I wanted. He was the one I’d never stopped wanting. I only wished Bryan wanted me in the same way. Body and heart.
Chapter Eleven
I spent the weekend working with my parents at their store, which took my mind off the way I’d run out on Bryan, and the way he hadn’t seemed to care. I prepped with my mom for her online deal, and helped my dad sort through some overdue bills. I even slipped one from a vendor into my purse. I’d pay that bill myself thanks to an order for ten necklaces that had been placed online over the weekend from a shop on the Upper West Side.
My parents took me to the train station on Sunday night, and walked me to the tracks. My mom still had a visible limp from the car accident and probably always would, but she kept up.
“I know why you came out this weekend, my Katerina.” My mom was the only one I let use my full name.
“I came here to see you guys,” I said, trying to dodge and dart.
She gave me a sharp, stern look, the kind only moms can give. “You’re worried about us. But we’re going to be fine. The store is going to be fine.”
“Yes, you need to focus on finishing school, not checking up on us,” my dad said.
“I took care of My Favorite Mistakes in the evenings and I did homework when there weren’t any customers,” I said, then winced. I shouldn’t have brought up the obvious. But then, maybe I should. The sagging store was the elephant in the room and they were trying to deny it. I was struck by the realization of how very alike we were. The three of us trafficked in everything-is-fine here attitudes, but inside we were trying to stiff-upper-lip it through life’s challenges.
“And that’s what you should focus on, Kat.” My dad pulled me in for a goodbye hug.
I hugged my mom next as my train pulled into the station. But before I boarded, I looked back at them, gathered up my courage, and said, “I know times are hard for you guys. I’m going to help. I promise. I have a plan.”
Then I hopped on the train, and waved. I didn’t want to give them the space to fashion a no.
*****
The next few weeks raced by in a blur of classes and homework for my Innovation & Design class and my Management course. I took copious laptop notes during school hours, and turned those notes and research into reports and projects. I filled many other hours perusing the latest European design blogs, bringing custom orders to the boutiques around the city that carried my line, and tending to online sales. I was wearing a tread on the sidewalk from my apartment to the nearest post office from the number of times I went there to ship orders. I stayed up late and woke up early, and I was exhausted, but I couldn’t complain because I was on track for a strong quarter, and I would be able to peel off a little bit to help my parents. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. I didn’t hear from Claire Oliver, but I kept checking email and my phone, hoping for some sort of update from my professor’s wife.
All things considered, the work and the business were the easiest parts of those weeks.
The real challenge, and I hoped to earn an A for avoidance, was steering clear of one-on-time with Bryan when I went to his midtown offices as part of the mentorship. The first time there, I attended a meeting as the design team presented the new additions to the holiday line for his approval. I left the conference room quickly when it ended, but he followed me down the hall, calling out to me.
“Hey Kat,” he said.
I stopped, turned around, and adopted a how-can-I-help-you look?
“Um, I’d love to know what you thought about the new additions?” he asked, but he didn’t sound like the same guy who’d just signed off on a new series of cufflinks. He sounded nervous.
“They’re just great,” I said, then gave him a double thumbs up, like a politician.
“Do you want to sit down and talk some more? I’d really love your detailed feedback.”
I looked at my watch for effect. “Oh. Darn. I would, but I have an evening lecture I need to get to in twenty minutes. I have to go.”
Then I marched off to the elevators, hoping the last words were not lost on him.
He tried again the next week when I ran into him at the water cooler, and he awkwardly asked me to check out copy for an ad slated to run in GQ.
“You’re reviewing ad copy now?” I asked in a questioning tone. I’d never known CEOs to be involved at the level of ad copy. A CEO’s role in marketing was more at a budget and branding level.