Tempo (6 page)

Nearly two hours later, I emerge on the ground floor. The lobby is circular and everything connects to this vast space. If you are standing at the entrance, the casino is directly across from the grand entrance. The casino area is roped off and burly security guards sit as sentinels on both sides of the entrance. My eyes scan the area and I see that the lounges flank the casino with two on each side. No graphics mar the walls; nothing gives any hint to what lays inside. The mystery draws you in. Walking into each of the lounge areas I can see that careful thought and planning have gone into each place. The names are written above the bar in the same handwriting, his handwriting. The words Velocity, Pulse, Essence and Soul are inscribed above the bars in each of the four lounges. The spaces vibrate with their own energy making the names unnecessary. Tingles run down my spine. I totally understand his mea
ning of Tempo. You feel it, but it’s more than the beat. I get it. Most people won’t. It’s genius really and suddenly I feel excited to be in on the “secret.”

Standing in the center of the lobby with
my head tilted severely up, I take in the wonder of the glass masterpiece. It’s completely hand made, a skilled artisan has created each prism. The lengths vary from a few inches to several feet. Each piece is perfectly weighted and flawless. The sculpture is eight feet at its widest near the ceiling and tapers down to a single prism. The glass I originally thought was aqua is actually a combination of colors. The blues, greens and gold of the glass reflect the light and the result is breathtaking. Feeling a tingle run up my spine, I turn my head to the right and see him staring at me.

“She is a thing of beauty.” He states.

“She is magnificent, a work of art.”

“Yes, she is, I felt it when I first saw her.”

Looking his way I get the feeling that he is not referring only to the sculpture. Blushing, I lower my head. He reaches out and places his right palm firmly against the small of my back, guiding me toward the elevator. His touch generates a burning sensation that runs straight to the juncture between my thighs. My knees feel weak and I stumble, grabbing my left elbow he steadies me.

“How did you find me?"

“Security cameras.”

Frowning, I break from his grip and put some distance between us. The loss of his touch leaves me with a hollow feeling. “Were you stalking me?” I ask.

Laughing, he rolls his eyes and leans against the elevator wall. “It’s twelve-twenty and you were supposed to return for a twelve o’clock lunch.  I asked security to locate you. I thought you might be lost. When they told me you were in the lobby, I decided to come get you myself.”

Looking at the control panel I realize that we are standing still on the ground floor. I reach over to push the button and our fingers touch. I pull mine back quickly feeling like I had just been burned. The elevator shutters as it ascends to the third floor. Looking in his direction, I consider the man in front of me.

Within seconds we are once again in the foyer of the third floor. Michael stands aside and lets me lead.
He is such a gentleman!
Rolling my eyes, I lead the way to the conference room. In the center is a linen draped table that sits fully adorned with china. The designers from Chicago and Los Angeles are already seated. Two empty seats remain. Michael pulls out my chair and I sit. He walks to the other side of the table and seats himself.

“I took the liberty to order lunch for us. Our chef has prepared a simple chicken Caesar salad, fresh bread and a light desert of fresh berries and cream. A variety of beverages have been set on the counter for your enjoyment.” Raising his glass of water, Michael proposes a toast to the success of Tempo. Slightly irritated that this man has ordered for me I grab my fork and dig into the salad. I did not realize how famished I was. The salad is delicious. Sitting across from Michael, I notice how the other designers are fawning over him. I don’t know why, but I don’t like them touching him. The poor man can’t even eat because Tina and Maggie keep touching his arms and hands. You can see the irritation in his eyes and he looks to me as if asking to be saved.

Coughing to grab their attention, I distract them by asking questions. Redirecting their attention to something other than Michael makes me feel better for some reason.

“What did you think of the rooftop patio?” Both women look at me with puzzled expressions. The women look at each other and Tina answers for both of them.

“We didn’t go to the rooftop, it’s not part of our design contract. There is no use in wasting precious time.” She smugly smiles at me as if she has just won some small battle.

Reaching into my pocket I pull out my toilet paper scrolls. Looking at the faces around me Tina and Maggie look as if I was handling infectious waste. Looking at Michael, I can see he is intrigued. I locate the rooftop patio drawings and spread them out in the center of the table. I point out everything I had envisioned for the space and when I am finished I can see that the women are uninterested
, but I have Michaels complete attention.

“What would you do for lighting Ms. McKenna?” Noticing how he emphasized my name I look directly at him and float my idea.

“What’s my budget?”

“Let’s say that you don’t have a budget.”

“In that case, I would commission the artist who did the lobby sculpture to create a mini version in the form of a hanging light fixture. I would place them on lampposts and position them in higher traffic areas. They would be elegant and sexy and connect the rooftop to the lobby. This keeps the tempo of Tempo congruent.” My use of the word tempo is not lost on him; he knows that I get it. “The fire-pits give off enough ambient light for the conversation areas and the glass perimeter should remain light free to provide the dark needed to fully experience the lights of the city. The custom lampposts become functional art.”

Pointing to my TP rolls and pen Tina interjects. “We weren’t supposed to take anything out of this room, so by doing so you cheated.”

Feeling indignant at her attempt to slander me. I respond hotly, “I never cheat!”

“You’re a liar, we can all see the evidence laid out before us.”

“I didn’t cheat and I never lie!” Looking directly at Michael as I say the word lie, I continue to talk.

“I exited this room with only the clothes on my back. Nothing was said of using the items you could locate on your travels. I am sorry you feel slighted because you lack imagination. I borrowed a pen from the guard and vis
ited the lady’s room to grab paper towels. Finding only hand dryers, I used the materials left to me.” Gazing around the table, I see the pursed lips of two very pissed off designers and the sardonic smile of a man.

“I applaud your resourcefulness Ms. McKenna. What’s on the other rolls of TP?” He says this with a smile pasted to his face as if saying TP is some sort of dirty word.

Looking around me I locate the other rolls and open them alongside one another. Each scroll has room dimensions and rough sketches of my vision for the space. Not wanting to be outshined, Maggie pipes in. “While you were traipsing through the hotel making chicken scratch on toilet paper, Tina and I were fine tuning our presentations. The information sent by Mr. Scarpetti was thorough and contained all we needed to create a comprehensive plan. Our years of experience in this industry don’t require us to schlep around to get a feel for the place.”

The movement across the table drags my attention from the bitchy women flanking me. Michael leans back in his chair, his hand cupping his chin and his index finger is curling around his upper lip. He is trying to suppress a smile. He is enjoying this exchange.

“I understand that my lack of experience gives you an edge.” Both women nod their heads and look to Michael for confirmation. Giving none, they look back to me. “I like to walk a space simply because it’s the only way I can get a real feel for the place. I almost always find a discrepancy between the plans and actual building. For example, did you know that all rooms that end in nine and eleven in this hotel are actually one foot narrower than the floor-plan outlines? It seems that there was a post construction renovation required to make room for the housekeeping laundry chutes located between these rooms. Two rooms on each floor for twenty floors that span an average length of 36 feet could really throw your numbers off when you are bidding for a job. Using an average cost for high-end carpet or wall coverings, you have just overbid your project by at least $72,000.00. The more frightening scenario would be having rooms larger than the floor plan indicates. Running short of materials would put a project behind and that isn’t an option for Tempo. Let’s not even consider the availability of special orders and trying to match the lot numbers. So, yes I may be less experienced than you but never underestimate me. I am not about to let you intimidate me!” Looking around the table, I see every mouth opened in astonishment. I get up, walk over to the beverage table and grab a diet soda. Popping the top I bring the can to my mouth and gulp. I drink the entire soda, trying to extinguish the fire I feel inside.

“All righty then, it looks like we are finished with lunch.
Let’s get back to business. I read all of your submissions and have to say that for the most part, you all get it. One of you nailed it spot on. While you were touring, my people were gathering the final information necessary to vet the firms you work for. I can’t have Tempo’s reputation contaminated by any type of controversy or perceived impropriety. Unfortunately one of your companies is tied up in a labor dispute. The hiring of undocumented workers and paying them substandard wages is exactly the kind of thing that I can’t be associated with. I will be meeting with all three of you separately in just a few minutes. At the conclusion of our meeting, I’ll ask you to leave the premises immediately. The two remaining designers will be meeting me for dinner at seven o’clock
.
Maggie, you’re first, please follow me.”

Sitting in the room with Tina, neither of us has anything to say to one another. I wonder who could be going home. I am acquainted with all of my coworkers and none of them are undocumented workers. It has to be the other women; they are from large firms that probably have their own shops to produce textiles. It’s a common place to hire illegal immigrants. Anna is very careful to use only well respected workrooms. The wait seems endless. Several minutes later, Michael comes in and asks for Tina. Tired, I lay my head on the table and wait my turn.

“Ms. McKenna, would you please follow me?”
To the moon and back!
Thinking that my inner voice has failed me, I silently admonish her for interrupting my thoughts. This man is a liar and he is sneaky and underhanded. While you were “schlepping” around his building he was spying into your background. Why are you so willing to trust him? This leaves the “smart girl” silent. I walk into Michael’s office. Pointing me to a sitting area to the right, I am grateful that he didn’t sit me in front of his desk with him sitting behind it in a position of authority. The man intimidates me as well as riles me. Feeling like I have fought my way through this entire day, I could do without any more contentious conversation.

Sitting across from Michael, I watch as he stares through me. He is leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his laced fingers. Deep in thought he is unaware that I am taking stock of my surroundings. The office is basic, not very exciting and certainly not what a man of his stature should have.  Looking back at him I inventory his features. He is tall, maybe 6’ 3” or taller. His wavy dark hair is cut short in a modern James Dean style and parts to the right. I can see the shadow of his whiskers breaking free. His perfectly tailored suit accents his broad shoulders, tapering to his narrow hips.  Shaking his head, he refocuses to look at me. Knowing where my mind was headed, I blush. Uh oh, that familiar stirring is starting to rise. Swallowing hard, I redirect my thoughts by starting meaningless chatter.

“Nice office.”

“Actually, it’s not mine, it’s the marketing directors. Do you really like it?” he cocks his head to the side and gives me a look of surprise. 

“No but I just thought I would be nice just in case you did.”

“Ms. McKenna, did you just lie to me?” The look of mirth and merriment is dancing in his eyes.

Squirming in my seat, I answer him.  “I told a small fib. I just said nice office, I didn’t specifically say I liked it; you came to that conclusion on your own.

Raking his hand through his thick black hair, his wavy locks fall perfectly back into place. He suddenly looks nervous, like he doesn’t know where to begin.

“Ms. McKenna, I am impressed. In spite of the fact that you lack the experience of the other designers, you held your own today. More importantly you surprised me with your astute observations. I love your vision for the rooftop patio and may actually ask you to formally do that project. How many custom fixtures do you think I would need?”

His question catches me off guard; I ponder this for a few minutes. “I think you should have fifteen to twenty. The space is large.”

Reaching into his left inside pocket, he pulls out a notebook and pen and writes something down.

“It was an interesting lunch today. Normally, one so young doesn’t have the life experiences needed to flatten two world-renowned designers.  I watched you do it in less than ten minutes and move on. Normally I wouldn’t applaud this type of behavior, but they were being disrespectful and this is a competition of sorts. I admire a person who is committed to their work and attacks it with integrity. As for the designer leaving today, it will be Maggie. She has some labor issues to deal with. Dinner will be at seven o’clock
at Charlie Palmer Steak in the Four Seasons Lobby.” Standing up he guides me to the door. Not knowing what has possessed me, I turn to him and ask.