Inferno (2 page)

“True story,” Bella agreed.

I turned to Bella, “please tell me I did not just say that out loud.” 

The bimbo turned to Mr. Hottie McHot Pants and demanded, “Are you just going to stand there and let them talk to me that way?”

“Yep,” was his unruffled reply.

Wincing just a little, I turned to the blonde bimbo, “I really didn’t mean to say that out loud.  Sometimes my mouth just works a little faster than my filter, and you’ve given my brain
a lot
to filter.”

With what I assume was intended to be a warrior’s cry, Blondie, with her fingertip daggers, launched herself at me, and I found myself flat on my back for the second time that night.  Thankfully, my skirt only rode up a little and did not expose any naughty bits.  The girls stayed firmly in place, probably holding on for dear life.  Bimbo Barbie did not fare as well.  Her tube top, I mean dress, gave up the good fight, and rolled, from both the top and bottom, to form a hot pink, cloth belt around her waist.  Unfortunately, for us, she was now exposing her tactfully placed pasties and barely there thong.  Someone was pulling her off me, and all the while, she was kicking and screeching like a cat in heat.  Jack hauled me up from the floor while Makayla, hands cupped to her mouth, shouted.  “You left part of your nasty ass weave over here on the floor!”

Chapter Three

Group Message

Jack – yo peeps! What tha dilly yo?

Bella – chillin at da crib. Last nite was slammin

Jack – dat beotch was whack

Bella – dat try-fo-lin ho was like shorty better gets all up outta my grill or we gonna have us serious beef

Jack – dat hood rat was jello cuz we was lookin phat.  She be needin schooled

Bella – maaannnn, we had to jet b4 the po po showed

Jack – off the hinges dat was

Makayla – will you two idiots knock it off!  I’m trying to sleep and these damn notifications are driving me nuts

Jack – be easy gurl, be easy

Bella – what’s the 411?  I need me sum fresh kicks

Jack – imma bouts to be rollin out, want me to stop by ur hood

Makayla – we live in the suburbs, 2 blocks from each other asshats.  Get off Urban Dictionary

Jack – m’s be trippin.  Where’s r boo Lex?

Bella – self-imposed shamecation… smdh

********************

It’s Monday morning, and I am freaking out.  I have my first solo client.  That’s why I spent all day Sunday reading the miniscule dossier on a new restaurant marketing campaign that was assigned to me.   When I say miniscule dossier, I really mean a folder with one sheet of paper that Kathleen, my boss, had hand written:

Restaurant – Sebastian Graham

Monday morning 10:30 – 125 Pike Street

Do not be late & dress to impress!

Ok, I admit, I mostly napped on Sunday.  Can you blame me after the epic fail of a night I had.  Making a complete fool of myself, by getting into a catfight with that rent-a-ho, could not have made a worse impression on my dream man.  Oh well, it’s not like I’m ever going to see him again.  I mean, I didn’t even get his name.

I am dressed in a knee length, dark forest green pencil skirt, long sleeve, black fitted blouse with a little flare at the hem and cuffs, black pumps, medium sized hoop earrings, and a long necklace consisting of varying lengths of silver chains. 
I didn’t do too bad picking this out all on my own,
I think to myself.  I double check my bag to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything and then I’m off.

I pull up and parallel park across the street from the address on the note.  I’m early so I take that time to organize my thoughts and practice my deep breathing.  I am so nervous that I am going to screw this up, but Kathleen has faith in me.  She keeps insisting that I am ready to fly out from under her wing, and this is my opportunity.  Kathleen is an awesome boss.  She is the head of the Community Advertising Division.  We concentrate on local businesses in the tri-state area and leave the national marketing to the much larger Corporate Accounts Division.  I am perfectly content in my little niche, and I have no desire to enter that cutthroat atmosphere.  Plus, us little guys have more creative freedom and less red tape to hack through.  Oh, and weekends off.  I like my weekends off.  I take one last look in the review for a lipstick check, and it is go time. 

I push through the unlocked door and take a moment to look around.  First thoughts, this place is freaking cool.  The walls and ceiling are painted charcoal gray, and the slate floor is just a shade darker than the walls.  Black tables are scattered about in a deliberately jumbled formation.   Some with bench, booth style seating, others with high, straight back chairs, but all are in varying shades of red.  A bar ran along the back wall with the same black granite top as the tables.  Red leather bar stools were scattered about haphazardly, probably moved out of the way by the work crew who is installing shelves on the back wall.  Soft lighting adds to the intimate atmosphere.  It reminds me a lot of
Inferno
…minus the blonde bimbo.  I can’t help but to smirk to myself on that thought.

“Can I help you?” said a male voice from…somewhere.  I turned slowly in a circle looking for the source of the voice.  No such luck.

“Um, my name is Alexis Reed.  I’m from Bridgestone Marketing.  I, um, have a 10:30 appointment with Mr. Graham.”  I felt really stupid talking to a disembodied voice. 

“Oh yeah, forgot about that.  Sorry,” said the voice.   “Be right there.”

I didn’t wait long before a door, I hadn’t noticed in my earlier perusal, opened and out walked who I assumed was Mr. Graham.  He looked to be about five-nine, broad shoulders with sandy brown hair a little on the shaggy side.  He had on loose fitting jeans and a long sleeve, green tee advertising an Irish pub.  Definite eye candy.  As he made his way to me, hand extended in greeting, he introduced himself.

“Hi there, I’m Sebastian Graham, co-owner of this dump.  My business partner will be a little late.  He’s running some kind of interference at the club, but he’ll be along shortly.  In the mean time, we can go ahead and get started.”

We sat down at one of the booths, and I pulled out my tablet to take down some notes as we talked. Handing him my business card, I said, “first, tell me what type of restaurant you’re opening.  What kind of food and atmosphere will you have?  Will there be music?  That kind of stuff.”

“Well, this place isn’t really going to be a restaurant.  Not in the traditional sense anyway.  Our menu will consist of some appetizers but no entrees.  We don’t really want this to be a date night place, more like people coming together to mingle.  There will be a fully stocked bar.  We want it to be an extension of
Inferno
, but the music will be softer.  We’re envisioning a place where people can relax after a long day at work, get to know other people with similar goals that understand the meaning of responsibility.  Our vision is for this place to be more sophisticated than a normal club.  We want it low key enough that patrons won’t feel as if they’re on display.  Kind of like a never ending cocktail party.”

Holy Shit.  This guy owns Inferno.  Please don’t let him have heard about the almost brawl with the bimbo.  Please, please, please, pleeaasse.

“So the demographic you’re after is more sophisticated, early thirties to late forties.  Stable jobs and bank accounts, past the partying all night, every night stage of their lives.  But you want to stick with a mysterious, sexy vibe.  A mini club without the chaos.  Is that about right?”

“Exactly,” he said with a charming smile. 

“I can work with that,” I smiled back.

Sebastian and I spent the next thirty minutes discussing what he liked and disliked about other marketing campaigns he had seen.  They haven’t decided on a name yet, but know that they want it to be something that links this place to
Inferno
.  I wondered through the space, and I took some photos to use as reference during my creative process.  We chit chatted a bit, all the while my mind was racing a million miles a minute.  Most ideas were discarded as soon as the thought struck me, but there were a few that I filed away as possibilities.  That’s when it hit me. 

“Sebastian, what comes to mind when you think about
Inferno
?”

“I don’t know.  It’s a club.  Dancing, drinking, having a good time.”

“When I think about
Inferno
, I picture a younger crowd that is full of passion, quick to erupt into a frenzy, but they also fizzle just as rapidly.  They are a group that lacks the experience to maintain intense heat for any length of time.  What you’re creating here is more of a slow, steady burn.  The populations you are targeting are accomplished.  They are mature enough to know that playing the slow game can lead to the greatest reward.  The name of this place needs to reflect intense passion, but it also needs to be subtle.  What do you think about
Ardor
?” 

Sebastian mulled that around for a few minutes before giving me a cheeky grin.  “I think you might just be worth the money we’re paying you.”

The front door opened and a vaguely familiar sounding voice said, “Hey, sorry I’m late.”

As Sebastian and I turned toward the new comer, he began introductions, “this is my business partner, Ethan Storm.  E, this is…”

“Alexis Elizabeth Reed, twenty-six years old, Master’s Degree in Advertising, Junior Associate at Bridgestone Marketing.  How’s your buddy Jack doing?” Ethan chuckled. 

Turning back towards me, Sebastian looked at me appreciatively before he burst out laughing.  “So, you’re
that
girl.  Damn, I wish I could have seen the little disagreement you had Saturday night.  I always miss the good stuff.”

I stood there staring between the two men with a look of horror on my face. 
My typical fucking luck,
I thought before I sent up a silent prayer for the floor to miraculously open and swallow me, saving me from the latest fiasco that is my life. 

********************

Group Message

Lex – my life sucks!

Makayla – you’ll get laid again one day.  It may be years from now, but it’ll happen.  Maybe you should put it on your bucket list

Lex – thanks M.  Your such a good friend (insert sarcasm)

Jack – Tell auntie J all your probs Lexi Loo

Lex – Kathleen gave me my own account today.  Kick ass mini club

Bella – that’s great!  Congrats!

Lex – not sure that I’ll get to keep it

Jack – why not

Lex – the co-owner is Mr. Hottie McHot Pants

Bella – Holy shit.  He remember you

Lex – Yeah, he quoted back J’s rambled intro.  BTW, he said hi Jack

Jack – Sweet baby Jesus, he remembered my name (fanning self dramatically)

Makayla – does Mr. Hottie have a name

Lex – Ethan Storm.  His business partner is Sebastian Graham.  Oh, and they also own Inferno

Bella – You personally know the owners of the hottest club in town! Can you get us, like, VIP status or something

Lex – They’re clients, not my new buddies.  This is business.  Asking for favors would be unethical

Bella – who cares about ethics

Lex – I’m not getting you VIP passes

Bella – Please…(batting eyelashes and giving you puppy dog eyes)

Lex – I said no

Bella – (pout)

Jack – is the partner cute and which way does he swing

Lex – definite eye candy and surprisingly the topic of his sexual orientation did not come up during our business meeting.  Must have left it off the questionnaire

Makayla – did he mention our little altercation

Lex – Ethan, no.  Sebastian, yes.  They found my embarrassment very amusing

Makayla – lady luck has certainly been a fickle, fickle bitch to you lately

Lex – that she has

Chapter Four

Thankfully, the weeks that followed went relatively smooth.  Kathleen and I finished a few projects we were working on together.  They also provided a very nice commission check for me.  Every other minute I spent working up designs for Sebastian and Ethan.  Luckily, they didn’t hold the mishap at the club against me and pull their account.  I’m not sure how I would have explained that one to Kathleen.  At any rate, I have come up with several possibilities, and I am very confident that I’ll knock their socks off when I meet with them next week.  However, tonight I am looking forward to some fun and relaxation with my girls. 

Jack, an Administrator at Memorial Hospital, scored us tickets to their annual winter charity ball.  Anything that gives us an excuse to dress up like we’re going to a high school prom has good time written all over it.  There is also the added bonus that some very eligible bachelors will attend, and some of us are definitely on the prowl.

This evening we are modeling Bella’s work.  She is an aspiring fashion designer and has been working on our dresses for the past six months.  I’m dressed in a form fitting, halter dress.  The red satin skims my body all the way to the floor.  It’s simple and graceful.  I love it.  I left my hair long and sleek.  Rhinestones suspended from my ears and covering my left wrist add just a little flash. 

Makayla, hair in an intricate updo, wearing a black, deep sweetheart bodice, full floor length, light pink chiffon and tulle skirt with hand stitched pink, clear, and black beads adorning the empire waist, looks like she just stepped out of a fairy tale.  Looking at her, you would never know she is more evil queen than fairy princess.

Bella is exquisite in a peacock blue strapless evening gown overlaid with silver lace.  Ruffled silk in the same peacock blue is draped over her right shoulder grecian style and held in place by elaborate silver stonework along her waist.  Her hair is pulled back into a severe bun, accentuating her high cheekbones.  Long dangle earrings and silver bracelets add just the right touch, but her best accessory is the man on her arm, Tate Matthews.  He’s about five inches taller than Bella, which she loves because she can wear her four inch heels without the fear of looking like the odd couple.  Tate, short blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and a dimple in each cheek, is the quintessential boy next door.  He absolutely adores Bella.  Lucky bitch.

We just walked into the Grand Celestial Ballroom.  The place reeks of sophistication.  Silver fabric is draped elegantly to cover the walls.  Thousands of crystal snowflakes in various shapes and sizes hang from the ceiling, transforming the harsh lighting into a soft mellow glow.  An orchestra is playing quietly in the background while waiters in white tuxedos silently circulate; carrying trays of fluted champagne and hors d’oeuvres to the colorful gown and tuxedo clad patrons.

“This is gonna suck,” grumbles Makayla.  “Where’s the real food?  And please tell me we aren’t going to be stuck listening to this shit music all night.”

“You’re at a society event.  What did you expect, peanuts and beer?” I whispered.

“I’m just saying that if you’re going to spend this much money on a fancy party, it should at least be something that doesn’t put the guest to sleep.  Look, that guy in the corner is nodding off.  He knows what I’m talking about.”

“I swear if you do anything to embarrass or upset Jack tonight, I will kill you,” I warned Makayla.

“Where is twinkle toes anyway?”

“Makayla,” I said through clenched teeth, “I’m not kidding.  Don’t ruin this for him.”

“Fine, lets at least scope out the joint for possible man meat,” Makayla griped as she drug me away from Bella and Tate, who where in deep conversation with another couple. 

Bella and Tate are working the room, Makayla is working some poor schmuck who hasn’t got a clue what he’s in for, Jack is flitting around making sure everyone is having a good time, and I’m tucked neatly back against the wall out of the way.  I love to people watch.  The obnoxious flirting, the sly look from across the room and my favorite is watching the conniving people.  The ones who try to out maneuver the other pawns.  People forget that they always have an audience.  Nothing ever goes truly unnoticed.  You should really consider yourself lucky if you manage to avoid getting your stupidity posted on the internet.  That’s a win in my book. 

I was serendipitously watching a middle aged, balding, fat guy attempting to subtly place the palm of his hand on the bum of another man’s wife, when someone spoke to me, causing me to let out a little squeak as I jumped. I turned to see a good looking guy about three inches taller than me.  Close cropped, military cut, clean-shaven, perfect nose with just a hint of fading freckles, and light green eyes.  He has tanned skin and tight abs that cut into a yummy V down to his hips.  The latter I know from personal experience.  Unfortunately, all of that hotness is attached to my douche bag ex, David.  Damn, he looked good in a tux though.

“I see you still don’t pay much attention to your surroundings.  That’s going to get you into trouble one day,” he said teasingly.

“I believe it already has, or don’t you remember?” I replied with mock concern.

“You look beautiful tonight.  I almost forgot how breathtaking you can be,” David said as his eyes slowly worked their way from my face to the hem of my dress and back up.

I just continued to stare, saying nothing.

“Come on Lex, baby.  You won’t return my calls.  I said I was sorry.  Let me make it up to you.  I miss you baby,” he said as he reached in an attempt to run the back of his fingers along my cheek.

Smacking his hand away, I hissed, “don’t touch me.”

“Aw, baby, don’t be like that.  It was just a misunderstanding.”

“Exactly what part was a misunderstanding?  Was it the part where you continuously lied to me, or the part where I walked in on you and your office tramp?  Please tell me how I misinterpreted any of that.”  He was silent.  “That’s what I thought.” 

When I turned to walk away, David grabbed my arm, roughly jerking me to him.  I began to struggle discreetly in an attempt not to make a scene, when another hand latched on pulling me to collide with a very solid chest. I looked up at my new assailant to see blue eyes glaring menacingly over my head at David.

“Who the hell are you?  Get your hands off my girl!  I SAID GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF MY GIRL!” boomed David.  Shit.  Now people are looking.  We’re causing a scene and Jack is going to kill me.  Before I even have a chance to process what is happening around me, another tuxedo clad arm is firmly planted in the center of David’s chest, forcing him to release my arm and take a few steps back.

“I thought I told you to leave her alone.  You don’t listen very well, do you?” Tate seethed while removing his jacket.

“Back off Matthews, this is none of your business.”

“It is my business when you keep screwing with one of my girls.  Alexis told you,
repeatedly
, to stay the hell away from her.  This is the last time I’m going to tell you to walk away, and this time you better keep walking.”

“Just because you’re banging one of her friends doesn’t make you her anything.  Mind your own damn business.”

Tate and David faced off, nose to nose.  Well, more like nose to chin since Tate’s taller.  A circle started to form around our little group, and I would not have been the least bit surprised if someone would have started the schoolyard chant.  Fight…Fight…Fight.  This will definitely make the ball the talk of the town for weeks to come.  I just wish it wasn’t at my expense. 

I reached out to touch Tate’s arm and hesitantly called his name, “Tate?  Please just let it go.  He’s not worth ruining Jack’s party, and we’re causing a scene.”

After a few tense moments, Tate took a step back, and I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“Don’t worry about the party girly, are you ok?” Jack asked, appearing out of thin air, concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” I said automatically.

“This isn’t over Lex,” David warned, and then he turned and walked away.

“Sweetheart, you’re shaking.  You are anything but fine.  You are coming home with us tonight.  Makayla’s like a pit bull.  That jackweed will never get past her,” Jack said trying to lighten the mood.  “Thanks for the assist there Ethan; we’ve got her from here.”