Mine to Lose (9 page)

“I shit you not,” I respond, causing us
both to laugh. The sudden knock on the door tells me that my two friends are
finally going to meet and I just hope they hit it off.

My phone ringing, somewhere, halts me
mid-step, and I turn to Joss asking her to get the door while I answer my
phone. When I finally locate it, I’m happy to see that it’s Ryan. As Joss gets
the door I look over at them. “Cam, Joss. Joss, Cam.” I nod to Joss. “Fill her
in, I’ll be right back.” I head into my room and shut the door behind me so I
can talk privately.

“Hey babe,” I answer, with the first
genuine smile I’ve had today.

“How’s it goin’?”

“Not too bad.” The emptiness of him being
gone hits me like a brick. “Awful. I miss you so much.”

“I know, baby, I miss you, too.” When he
speaks those words, I know he means them.

“How was your day?”

“It wasn’t too bad. Alex and I had to
stay late to finish up some paperwork, so I’m exhausted,” he admits, “but I
wish I was there with you.”

“Me too,” I admit, sinking into my bed. If
sadness were tangible, it would be my entire being.

“So how did your meeting go today?”

“It was good. Great, actually.” My
excitement is short-lived. “I mean, I still have to gather more information,
and show more places, but the good thing is that they increased their budget,
so Elle was very happy.”

“That’s awesome, Em. I’m so proud of you.”
I can tell he’s smiling that smile that I love, which makes mine show through
on my end. “So, you get along with the lady alright?”

“Actually,” I pause to figure out what
I’m going to tell him, so I leave out details. “I met with the owner. He had to
fire Sandy, not sure why, so I’ll have to meet with him for the planning.”

“What did Elle say about that?” He knows
how controlling she can be.

“She was great, insisted that this is my
project, even with the increase in budget.” I don’t tell him that a stipulation
was that I handle it myself, red flags would be going up all over the place.

“That’s good that she’s letting you run
with it. You excited?”

“I am, there is so much I can do, and I’m
just happy I get the chance to prove what I’m capable of.”

“Damn, babe, I really wish I were there
to show you how proud I am of you. You deserve it.”

And just like that, my mood takes a dive,
and this is where he gets off. “I wish you were here, too.”

“We’ll see each other soon, I promise.
Okay?” He doesn’t wait for a response, he knows me too well, and knows I’ll
probably start to argue. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ry.” There is a lump in
my throat that I feel is suffocating me, but I try my best to finish, even if
it’s just with a whispered, “Goodnight.”

Looking down at the phone in my hand, I
want to cry, and my bed looks like the perfect place to mope. The sudden
laugher and talking from the living room pulls me out of my lonely thoughts, so
I follow the noise, standing in the doorway, watching my friends get to know
each other. They see me standing there, and almost in unison, jump on me. “So?”

“What?” I head to the couch under their
intense stares. “It was just Ryan.”

“Yeah, we figured that much,” Cam teases.
“Did you tell him about who you’re working with?”

“I did.” Not quite the truth, but I told
him, so I’m not lying when I say this.

“Did you tell him that the guy whose ass
he wanted to kick at the club is the same guy you’re having to work with?” Joss
rephrases.

Damn it! She knows me too well.

“No. Okay? I didn’t spell it out. I mean,
what good would that do anyway?”

Joss and Cam both look at me, and then
away, like they know I know better. Joss is the first to speak up. “If it’s not
a big deal, then why are you making it seem like it is?”

“You know how Ryan gets. And it’s
not
a big deal, this is my career we’re talking about, okay?”

Joss looks over at Cam, a silent
conversation taking place between them and I feel like they are teaming up
against me. Cam nods her head, prompting Joss to speak up.

“How, exactly, does Ryan get? Because, as
long as I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him overreact or go all Neanderthal.”

“That’s not what I mean. There’s nothing
to tell, and if I make it a point to say mention it, he’s going to
think
something’s up.”

Cam shakes her head at Joss and looks
back to me. “Em, Trey is damn sexy.”

“So what’s your point?”

“See?” Joss goads with a huge grin, “You
think so, too.”

“You two are jerks! I leave the room for
five minutes and you’ve already discussed my relationship and now you’re
turning on me. Not cool.”

Joss laughs, “Look, since you seem to be
drowning in sexy men, both available and unavailable, don’t you think it’s only
fair you let someone else have some fun?”

“Bitch,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her
with a smile. “You’re just lucky I love you.”

After the girls left last night, I
started to rethink my objections to their concerns. Trey, I mean,
Mr. Miller,
is a client. And while I do think he’s attractive, I have Ryan, who I love more
than anything, and a job to do.

This is just a job
, I remind myself, and I can handle whatever comes my
way. With that in mind, I send him an email detailing the information I
gathered from our meeting, as well as what I’ll be working on before we meet
again. However, I didn’t count on such a swift response.

Trey
Miller
August 13, 2013 9:08 AM
To: Kane, Emogen
Re: Venue Notes - Ivy Glen
Emogen,

Thank you for the information from yesterday. I am
concerned with the location, as many of my clients are downtown. I would like
to see a few more locations before making my decision, so if you could set
something up, I would appreciate it.

I also need to discuss the entertainment you
suggested, because I feel it would be best to have something that appeals to
the entire audience, not just the younger crowd.

Regards,
Trey Miller
T.M. Enterprises

There is no hint of the tension from the day before, and I exhale a
breath in relief. The girls were wrong to get on my case for the way I handled
things, there’s nothing to handle. I send him a response to let him know we are
on the same page.

Emogen
Kane
August 13, 2013 9:24 AM
To: Miller, Trey
Re: Re: Venue Notes - Ivy Glen
Mr. Miller,

I agree about other locations, and I am contacting
the other places to see what they have available. Please let me know when you
have some time so I can show you a few of the places I have in mind. I agree
that Ivy Glen is out of the way, but I believe it may be our best option for
space, and that is one of the few places that allow you to bring your own
vendors. I will check to see what other locations, central to the downtown
area, will allow this as well.

Regards,
Emogen Kane
Event Planner
Elle E. Grant Events

I press send and start looking for the
venues that have proven to be sure things in the past. Elle tends to go for the
popular locations, but I believe there is an untapped market when going to the
outskirts of town. As someone who has only lived here a short time, I tend to
gravitate to the places that I hear about from other people. These people don’t
live, work and play in the downtown area; they’re transplants, like me.

Since Tuesday mornings at work are pretty
low-key, we spend most of our time on the phone confirming dates and times, or
sending emails to clients about what we need to proceed. The most hectic day is
definitely Thursday, because, as planners, we run all over the place to pick up
any last-minute items to make sure the events run smooth. I’m at an advantage
because I have one client to focus on, where Cam, Elle and the others have the
experience to handle multiple clients at once. I guess that’s a backhanded
advantage, because Elle is still testing me to see what I’m capable of.

I pick up my phone to call The Parlor,
another venue I think will appeal to T.M. Enterprise’s clientele, but I don’t
have a chance to make that call. I can hear someone on the other end. “Hello? I
mean, Elle E. Grant Events, this is Emogen Kane.”

“Emogen,” a male voice repeats, and I
know that it’s
Mr
. Miller. “This is Trey.”

“Good morning,” I respond. “What can I do
for you?”

“I just got your email, and I wanted to
see if you could meet for lunch. I have a few questions about the venues you
have in mind, but I’m running to a meeting in a few minutes.”

“If you’d like, I can email you the
places I have along with some details. I know you’re busy,” I acknowledge,
hoping that I don’t have to have lunch with Trey,
Mr. Miller.

“No, that’s okay,” he sounds distracted.
“Just bring it with you. I’ll pick you up at eleven thirty. Will that be okay?”

I glance at my calendar, hoping there is
something to keep me from being alone with him again. But there is nothing, and
I hope the defeat I feel isn’t evident in my tone. “No, that will be fine, Mr.
Miller.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” he says. “And
Emogen? It’s Trey.”

He hangs up, leaving me feeling as though
I may have just fucked up. He sounded more irritated than pissed, but then
again, he probably hates being called ‘mister’ as much as I hate someone my age
responding with a ‘yes ma’am’ to me.

For the next two hours, I gather as much
information as possible to share with Trey. I have choices for vendors,
caterers, entertainers and florists to discuss with him, so there won’t be a
lull in our meeting. I should have insisted on meeting him someplace, yet here
I am, waiting at my desk like a sixteen-year-old waiting for her date to show
up.

Callie, our receptionist, buzzes me.
“Emogen, Mr. Miller is here for you.”

“Thank you, Callie. I’ll be right there.”
I let go of the button and grab my files to stuff them into my oversized
leather bag.

When I make my way to the front desk and
see Trey, all of my senses go out the window. Ryan who? No, I shake my head. I
love Ryan. I love Ryan. I repeat this with every step I take toward a grinning
Trey Miller.

“I’m sorry I’m early,” he says, reaching
for my bag. I pull the strap a little closer to my body, as if it has the
ability to save me from my wayward thoughts.

“I’ve got it,” I say, referring to my
bag. “My mom always said ‘If you’re on time, you’re late,’ so I guess you’re
just fine.”

Why did I just quote my mom? And why
did she ever use that line; she’s never been early a day in her life.
I shake off my thoughts with a laugh and try to
refocus.

He smiles and I look back to Callie, who
seems to be picking up on my awkwardness. “Can you let Cam know I’ll be back in
a little?” Trey walks off ahead of me, and Callie’s gaze follow him. “Callie?”

“Oh yeah, not a problem,” she says
looking at me. Then she, not so subtly mouths, “Damn! He’s hot!”

* * *

During the drive to the restaurant, I
wrestle with what to say, if anything, but fortunately for me Trey makes light
conversation that was easy to reciprocate. By the time we make it to Café
Cellar, I have become comfortable with his presence. The maître d shows us a
table in the back and I immediately begin to pull out the file containing the
information I wished to discuss with him.

“Relax, Emogen,” he says. “Let’s order
and then you can open that oversized bag of tricks.”

I laugh at his description of my
briefcase and exhale, hoping he doesn’t hear. We order our drinks and food and
it’s then that I start running my mouth, as though I have never heard of a
filter. “I’ve told Ryan I wanted to try this place, but we just haven’t had
time since we’re both so busy.”

“I’ve been here a few times, the food is
great. I think you’ll like it,” he says with an easy smile.

“Ryan can be a food snob sometimes, so
unless they serve the ‘best burger ever,’ we haven’t tried it.”

“That doesn’t sound like a snob, sounds
like he just knows what he wants,” he counters. “Not that I blame him.” When I
look up he’s eyeing me, with a beautiful grin, as if we are more than
colleagues.

I feel my face flush and I begin to
stammer like an idiot. “Well, Ryan and I haven’t lived here for long, so we
still have lots to check out,” I say, trying to ignore his last comment.
“Hopefully we can check them out when he comes to town.”

“Emogen,” he leans forward, placing his
hand over mine. He lowers his voice and waits for my eyes to meet his. “I think
Ryan
is lucky to have you.”

My head is swimming in confusion. His
words say one thing, but the way he looks at me says something completely
different. I feel like he’s trying to convince me that he’s not interested, so
perhaps he should refrain from looking at me the way he is right now. Maybe
he’s like this with everyone, and I can’t help the twinge of disappointment I
feel at the notion that maybe I’m reading more into the gestures than he means.
It’s not like I
want
Trey to be interested in me, but the moment he
assures me he’s not, I will want it.

“No,” I bite out a little harsher than I
intend. “I’m the lucky one.” I rush to make a mental list of the reasons why
I’m so lucky to have Ryan in my life, but Trey interrupts my thoughts.

“So what do you have to show me?”

I pull out his file and begin my
presentation for his event. He seems impressed with the rough layout I have created
based on Lisa’s floor plan. When I give him the options of a theme, he is quick
to eliminate a few of them, which makes my job a little easier.

“Mr. Miller.” I rush to correct myself,
“Trey. Can I ask why you increased your budget?”

He doesn’t hesitate when he responds,
“Emogen- I’m sorry, can I call you, Em? Emogen seems a little too formal.”

Thrown off guard by that question, I nod,
unsure what defenses I have just let down. “Yeah, that’s fine.
Ryan
calls me that all the time.”

He huffs a short laugh and shakes his
head. “The thing is, I have many clients, but there are others with my
competition that I would like to acquire. So that being said, I want to
increase my guest list. But more importantly, I believe you are very capable.
You have great ideas and you listen to what I want for the evening. That’s why
I insisted to Elle that this be your event. Unless you are uncomfortable for
some reason.”

When he finishes his mini-speech, I
exhale and the biggest grin creeps on to my face. “I really do appreciate your
confidence in me.”

“I have no reason to believe otherwise.”

Sitting in front of him, I feel exposed
and vulnerable. I know nothing about Trey, where he comes from, what motivates
him or what he wants out of life, but he intimidates the hell out of me. The
way he looks at me isn’t lust, but it still feels intimate. That’s a word that
should not ever enter my mind when thinking about a client.  
Hell, I
shouldn’t even be thinking about a client at all.

The food comes out at the perfect moment and
it looks amazing. We are both fiddling with our plates and silverware. I place
my napkin in my lap and pick up my fork, ready to dive in, when I look up to
say, “Thank you, Trey.”

He looks up at me and his next words cause
my cheeks to flame. “Em? Ryan
is
a lucky man.” And then disappointment
sets in. “He has nothing to be worried about.”

Why do his words bother me so much?