Tempo (5 page)

“No, I think I’m set.” As he walks to the door I remember that I have to tip him. “Hold up,” reaching into my purse I pull out ten dollars and place it in his palm. “Thanks Joshua.”

He leaves, closing the door behind him. Left on my own, I wander through my suite. My room is a combination of blues, browns and beiges. The king sized bed takes center stage in the room. The suede headboard is simple but elegant. The linens are top quality. The upholstered bench at the end of the bed is nice, but the raised velvet seems out of place. I would have put a textured fabric on the bench myself, but would have chosen something more natural like linen or even a finely woven banana leaf or elephant grass. Directly across from the foot of the bed, there is a sitting area that contains a sofa, two chairs, a cocktail table and an entertainment cabinet. A giant flat screen TV is strategically positioned on the wall above the cabinet, making it easy to view the TV from anywhere in the room. The coolest part of the TV is that it looks like framed art when it’s not in use. To the right of the sitting area is a small dining area consisting of a table with four chairs and a long wet bar. The wall above the bar is mirrored and reflects the view from the 39
th
floor. Tucked against the wall near the bed is a large desk. Seeing the desk reminds me of why I am here. I gather my sample boards, textiles and computer and begin to prepare my workspace. Heading to the bathroom, I grab my toiletries and begin to unpack. The bathroom is fantastic, large tub, separate shower, quality products and lush towels. Grabbing my toothbrush I turn on the sink and look at the girl in the mirror.
That was quite an adventure we had today wasn’t it?
What an understatement. Burying the thought, I move to the desk and get started. I have several hours of work to complete before I will feel ready for tomorrow’s meeting.

The grumbling of my stomach informs me that it’s time to eat. Stepping away from the desk, I pick up my purse and I head out to explore Las Vegas. Grabbing a soda and a bag of chips from the lobby gift shop, I head for the heart of the strip. Twirling around in circles, I take in the sheer over the top quality of Las Vegas. Its excess is what makes it so sexy. Anything goes! The phrase “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas
,” seems like a survival mantra. Trying to get a jump on tomorrow, I head north in hopes of locating Tempo. My journey takes me past some of the hottest casinos on the strip. The Excalibur, New York New York, and the MGM Grand disappear as I walk down the street in search of Tempo. Sitting just south of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel I see it. It’s breathtaking. Not like the other places on the strip, Tempo offers contemporary elegance. The face of the building is Absolute Black and River White Granite. The top third and lower third are horizontal stripes. The center is a diamond pattern resembling an Argyle sweater with interchanging black and white slabs. The moniker is a hand written neon sign that spans the width of the center of the building, softening the hardness of the stone. Its aqua blue light pops off the sleek natural stone. The sides of the building are glass from ground to rooftop. Tempo is going to be different, it’s obvious that the owner is not following anyone’s lead; he is forging his own path. Turning around, I time my walk back to The Four Seasons.  It took twenty-two minutes to make the journey. My first meeting tomorrow begins at nine o’clock in the morning. If I get up at six, I should be able to hit the gym, eat, shower, dress and still have plenty of time to walk to Tempo. Looking at my watch I realize I haven’t called Anna to check in. Racing to my room, I grab my phone and dial her cell.

“Hello.”

“Hi Anna, I am so sorry I didn’t call earlier. I got caught up in unpacking and other stuff and I forgot.”

“I was wondering what happened to you. How was your flight?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine, it was your first flight and all you say is fine?”

“Well, I was so nervous that I had a few glasses of champagne and fell asleep.”

“Did you meet anyone interesting? I always meet the most interesting people in airports.”

“No, pretty nondescript people on my flight.” Biting my lip, I think back to Michael.

Changing the subject, I redirect the conversation to Tempo. “I took a walk to Tempo tonight. Oh Anna, it’s magnificent. I am so nervous and yet so excited to help create this place.”

“If I know anything about you Karlie, I can guess that you have the trip timed down to the minute. Your samples are packed and your preliminary design is complete. Your clothes are probably already ironed and ready to go.”

Laughing “You have me down to a tee with the exception of my clothes, I guess I should get on that now.”

“Check in with me tomorrow Karlie, I think the first elimination will be quick. One designer will be going home by tomorrow night. I am confident it won’t be you. Is there anything else you need?”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“I saw a couple today that seemed to have this crazy energy. I could feel a tingle like the crackle of lighting in their presence. Their attraction was palpable.  Do you think most people feel like that?  How often does that kind of connection really happen?”

“I have talked to people who said that they knew immediately when they met their mate. They were connected by something that couldn’t be explained. I have never experienced that, which is probably why at forty-eight, I am still single. If I met a man who warmed my blood by his slightest touch I would give up everything. That kind of connection is rare. What a lucky couple. Maybe someday you and I will get that lucky.”

“What about your job? Doesn’t it keep you busy and happy?”

“The design firm is great and I love what I do, but it doesn’t warm my bed at night or hold my hand. You can have both if your lucky, but if you have to make a choice, always choose love!”

Hanging up the phone I consider the advice Anna gave me. I felt something magical today. It’s been so long since my core melted and my breath hitched. Evan stirred passion
, but that was his objective. He had a mission and he attacked it with the fervor of paparazzi chasing this week’s big star. I guess I have to admit that I was in love with the idea of Evan and Evan was in love with himself. Michael on the other hand, stirred something in me that I have never felt. I was shocked and disturbed to find myself acting so out of character, but in all honesty it felt great. Naughty and sexy are so not me, but it felt good to try her on. Sadly, but probably fortunately, I will never see him again.

Entering Tempo was no small task this morning. I was required to show identification at the door, the elevator, and now again at the conference room. My bags were thoroughly searched at each checkpoint. I spent so much time reorganizing my bags that I didn’t get to see any of the building. If security is always this tight, I am going to have to allow more time to get here. I can hear my mom’s voice in my head saying: “Early is on time and on time is late.” Looking at my watch and seeing that it’s 8:58, I realize that I am late. Pushing the door open, I see a tall man with his back to me writing on a white board. Even from the door I can see that his navy blue suit is well tailored and very expensive. Looking around, I notice two others in the room. They are both women and both appear to be somewhere between their mid-thirties to mid-forties. Stylishly dressed they look confident and ready. Looking down at myself I see that my black and white ensemble may be a bit too conservative. Lifting my bag off my shoulder I make my way to the front of the room. Just as I am about to set my things on the table, Mr. Scarpetti turns to greet me. Of all the people it could be, I am facing the last man on earth I thought I would see. Michael stands before me smiling. The air rushes from my lungs and the blood drains from my face; feeling faint I grab for the table sending my belongings crashing to the floor. Looking down I can see my perfectly organized presentation strewn about my feet. Collapsing into the chair beside me, I try to put my head between my knees to stop the room from spinning. I can feel his presence immediately; his nearness makes my chest tighten. Kneeling down beside me he whispers “Seems like I have been picking up after you a lot lately.” I gasp, hating the fact that his words are true. Placing my spilled items on the table, he turns and walks to the front of the room. Suddenly, I sit up and I am furious. This man lied to me. He told me his name was Michael and yet here I sit with the elusive Vincent Scarpetti a.k.a. dirty slime ball, lying son of a bitch. Unbelievable, and I was convinced that I had a special connection to him! My face must be beet red because it feels on fire. I stand up tall and walk straight at him, ready to do battle. As I near him, he offers me his hand to shake. “Hi, you must be Karlie, it’s my pleasure to meet you.” Leaning toward me as if to pluck some lint from my lapel he softly tells me: “Lets discuss this later.” I glare into his eyes, wishing I had a super power. One that could burn his eyes out might be nice. I am so mad. I could just wind up one of my balled fists and punch him. I smile a disingenuous smile and head back to my chair. I take a seat and look over at my competition. Introductions are made all around. Tina, a tall thin brunette hails from Chicago. She works for Branham and Benson. She is a senior design consultant and has worked for her firm for ten years. Maggie is a petite blonde from Los Angeles and a partner at Ratchet Designs. They are world famous for their work at the Beverly Hills Plaza as well as the Ritz Carleton. As soon as I am introduced, the other designers summarily dismiss me. This infuriates me and sets me on a mission to kick some ass. Could this day get any worse? 
Don’t borrow trouble Karlie.
The voice of wisdom decides to pipe in. Where was she when Michael or more correctly Vincent was lying to me? Oh yeah, she was swooning in his presence.

Mr. Smooth-talker asks for our attention. Looking up, he directs us to the white board. Tempo is written across the top in the exact signature as the writing on the building. He has definitely put his personal mark on this place.

“My name is Vincent Michael Scarpetti, but I go by Michael.” As he says this, his dark eyes stare directly at me. He might not have lied about his name, but he lied about his occupation. I would bet my life that he knew exactly who I was. He told me he was a vintner for goodness sake and I thought that was so cool. “Vincent Scarpetti is my father. I want to get this out of the way because I don’t want our time wasted with questions regarding my infamous father. My father is a criminal and has been in jail for nearly twenty years. I have no contact with him and so I can’t answer any of your questions. End of story!”

Wow, that was direct and to the point. Basically he just told us to stay the hell out of his business.

“One of you will be let go by tomorrow. I have a small window of time to get a lot accomplished. You were all asked to come here because you have the skill set that I need to make things happen. Our original design company filed for bankruptcy and could not finish the project. My family lineage makes getting things done much more difficult. Licenses, permits, and just about everything else takes longer when you’re associated with a major crime family.”

Thinking about his statement, I never really considered how a powerful family could influence things in a negative way. I figured if you had enough money you could get anything you wanted.

“Tempo means something very specific to me. I would like you all to write what Tempo means to you. When you are finished please bring your submission to me. I am going to take some time to look them over. In the meantime, you will have some free time to explore the building. Due to tight security I ask that you leave all of your belongings in this room. There will be security personnel at the door, so everything will be safe. Let’s meet back here for lunch at noon.”

Sitting down I ponder the meaning of Tempo and write my submission.

Webster’s dictionary defines it this way:

1.
       
The speed at which a passage of music is or should be played.

2.
      
The rate or speed of motion or activity.

3.
      
Latin word for time

I can see these as being accurate
, but their definition is lacking. When I think tempo I think living, breathing, organic. The word that comes to mind is lifeblood. It’s not speed, motion or activity but all of these things and so much more. It’s the rhythm of life, as it races past you. Nothing in life exists without tempo.

Pleased with my interpretation, I fold my paper in half and walk it up to where Michael is standing. Looking up, he stares deeply into my eyes. There is something there. Something resembling mischief hides behind those beautiful baby browns. He is toying with me and that infuriates me.

“Here you go Mr. Scarpetti.” Handing him my paper he reaches forward, grabbing my hand he pulls me forward slightly.

“Karlie, you can call me Michael.”

“No thank you, and Mr. Scarpetti, I would like to be addressed as Ms. McKenna.”

Turning on my heel, I leave him standing with his mouth agape and his eyes opened wide. Feeling as if I have re-established the boundaries of our working relationship, I head for the door. I feel strong and powerful. Did I really just assert myself?  That felt really good. Holy smokes! Will my brazen attitude hurt my chance at landing this job?  Set free, I break the confines of the conference room and set out to explore my surroundings. Taking stock of the space, I see the third floor executive office area has been completed. Modern art graces the chocolate colored walls. Textured, khaki colored carpet runs wall to wall. Upholstered chairs are strategically located around the foyer. The conversation areas are comfortable, well lit and thoughtfully placed. Thinking back to my research, I mentally run through the hotels floor plan. There are twenty-one floors and a rooftop patio. Each floor has sixteen rooms. Level twenty contains sixteen two-story suites. The twenty-first floor is slotted to be either one or two penthouse suites. I figure the best plan of attack is to start at the top and work down. I look over my shoulder and see that the other two designers have decided to chat for a while. No time to waste, I set out on my self-guided tour. Thinking that I would love to take notes and draw diagrams, I go in search of a writing utensil. Finding a security officer by the elevator I ask to borrow a pen.  Reaching into his pocket he hands me his. Asking directions to the restroom, the officer guides me in the right direction. I enter the bathroom looking for paper towels but find none. Looking around I spy the bathroom stall and rejoice. Toilet paper would not be my first choice
, but I will take what I can get at this point. Unrolling the massive paper rolls, I create smaller rolls consisting of twenty or so squares. Pleased with my scrolls, I stuff them into my pockets and head to the elevator. Arriving at the top, I step onto the rooftop patio. An eight-foot glass railing fence surrounds three-fourths of the perimeter and the remaining side is a granite wall that duplicates the face of the building. What a brilliant idea! The glass provides safety and wind protection and the granite hides the air conditioning units and provides noise reduction. I am impressed. The area is a blank palette except for the charcoal stained concrete floor. I find an area against the wall; sliding down the cool granite I take a seat on the concrete floor. Closing my eyes, I envision the patio completed. Six large fire-pits are placed throughout the space. All weather wicker furniture consisting of sofas, chairs and ottomans are placed in u-shaped configurations for easy conversation. Smaller intimate groupings are near the glass taking advantage of the romantic landscape. Spanning the length of the granite wall is a sexy bar that provides both walk up and seated service. Opening my eyes I can feel the space and I am so excited. This is not a space that I have been asked to design, but I would love to create something special up here. Sighing, I take out one toilet paper scroll and my borrowed pen and begin to sketch my vision. Looking down I see that I have captured the essence of the completed space. Rolling up my paper, I place it into my pocket. Standing up, I smooth my skirt and readjust to my heels. Walking back to the elevator I head down one floor and begin my self-guided tour.