Played (Elite PR) (3 page)

Chapter Three

T
hat was twice now! Twice he had her retreating to safety. How the hell was she supposed to show her boss, her ex, and everyone in her hometown that she was a force to be reckoned with if she couldn’t even handle a simple man with a guitar?

She was shaking as she made her way back inside her apartment. He surprised her. Well, the way he
looked
surprised her, though this was one surprise she didn’t mind. When he opened the door, she was dumbstruck—at a complete loss for words, and that did not happen to Melody Sharp. But she had to admit she’d never been so taken by a man. He had that rugged sort of handsome cowboy appeal that was only enhanced by the fact that he desperately needed a shave and a haircut. And when his soulful brown eyes raked over her—
did
they rake over her? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she felt it…everywhere. He wore his mass of dark hair pulled back and her hands burned to dive in and play. Then there was his mouth—full lips partially concealed by his scruff, which made everything he said seem extra dirty.

It was a good thing she didn’t catch a glimpse of him the other day, because she might’ve made use of that mattress he was moving into his apartment on the spot. Sweet baby Jesus, she’d like to know his Sleep Number.

Mel stood there on the other side of the door, waiting for him to say something else. It was juvenile, but yelling at that big hunk-o-man was almost as enjoyable as ogling him. He really was the perfect punching bag for her frustrations. Though now he was sure to be the cause of a few new ones.

But honestly, how could someone be so rude? Playing guitar and moving flippin’ furniture, at all hours? Some wannabe country music star, she bet. Sure, that music he was playing did sound really, really good—unique in a way that was more bluesy than the country pop overplayed on the radio—and, well, she’d already covered his looks. A tiny shiver traveled up the back of her neck. Oh what she could do with all that raw material!

Geez, now she was getting just plain desperate.

Of course, Mel hadn’t been sleeping when she first heard the soothing strumming of the guitar. She’d been thinking of ways to handle her own troubles. She was in such a financial crisis that she was considering picking up a second job but wasn’t sure she could juggle something else with Miranda on her ass.

It was her own fault. Mel had a habit of sabotaging her professional life. Her first offense was being too accommodating with her clients, who often mistook her professional attention for something personal. She lost three clients shortly after she shut down their…advances. After that, she wasn’t accommodating enough, fearful that showing her clients (ninety-nine percent of them men) any extra dedication would give them the wrong idea, and that caused even more complaints. That’s how these good ol’ boys were. Entitled, demanding, and impossible to please. Surprisingly, Miranda stood behind her in those instances. Her boss wasn’t particularly happy about it, but she had her back. What pushed the Ice Queen over the edge were Mel’s late arrivals, early departures, and overall disinterest in her job. Ever since Viv moved, it had only gotten worse.

Viv Brennan was a PR star, poised for executive management. She was also Mel’s best friend. She still worked for the company, remotely from her fiancé’s hometown, managing Elite’s new contract with NASCAR—which was how Viv met the love of her life. Jarod Cage had quickly become the darling of the racing circuit, thanks in part to Viv’s big brain. Now the two were living their happy ever after. Mel was thrilled for her friend. Really. But that didn’t stop her from missing her in the office every day.

It was Viv who made her realize that her clock was seriously ticking. At twenty-five, most of her friends were moving up and out in the world. That’s what it felt like anyway. Neck-deep in their careers, or getting engaged, buying homes, taking amazing vacations. Or simply running wild. Yet, here she was. Stuck. And she was tired of it.

Luckily, she was going to pay Viv and Jarod a visit soon, so maybe that would set her straight. At least she’d stand a better chance of getting some sleep.

It would also help her avoid the man who had called her five times yesterday. She knew why he was calling and what he wanted. Trouble was, she didn’t have it. So she’d ignore him…until she could find a way to work something out.

A
few hours after her tussle with the cowboy, Mel sat absolutely captivated, listening to a modern-day feminist hero. She wasn’t much for motivational speakers, or corporate functions for that matter, but Frankie Fink was one talking head she could get behind. Frankie was a marketing marvel and best-selling author of
It’s Your Turn
. She traveled all over the country to help women succeed in the working world, be it as a barista at Starbucks or an executive at Sysco. The woman was brash, loud, pushy, and cursed like a sailor. Mel felt an instant camaraderie with her.

“So if you want to be heard, ladies,” Frankie Fink said to the crowded auditorium. “You must push past the dicks, and take a seat at the goddamn table.”

The attendees had mixed reactions to that comment—from jubilation to disgust. The hotel conference room was packed with women of all ages—power suits circa 1990 through 2015—including some of Atlanta’s most influential women. One gal wearing an ill-fitting navy ensemble practically choked on her cucumber sandwich at the mention of male genitalia.

Mel giggled as she took notes about demanding respect and taking control in today’s workplace.

“Don’t opt out, ladies,” Frankie continued. “Don’t be pushed to the side. You are valuable, but you must contribute.”

Too bad Mel had grown up believing her only value was to look good next to the man in her life. Support
him
. Believe in
him
. She wasn’t sure how to demonstrate her own worth. This was where Viv always brought out the best in her. Viv made it a point to publically praise Mel’s efforts. She also brought her into key meetings and forced her to speak up when it mattered. Now that she was gone, Mel had no reason, or motivation, to sing her own praises or to go the extra mile at work. It never seemed to get her anywhere, anyway. What was the point?

She had the feeling Frankie would know the answer to that loaded question. The woman was a ball of energy, bouncing from one side of the stage to the other—her long red ponytail chasing behind her. She was the tall drink of water these ladies were thirsty for, Mel included. Simply listening to the presentation gave her that tingling, happy feeling that something good was about to happen. A sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time. What was it called? Hope?

Yeah, it was corny as hell. Still, it was hard
not
to get wrapped up in the moment.

Frankie pulled up the next section of her presentation, titled
Rules to Help You Rule
. She pointed her laser pen and clicked the elaborate slide show to reveal:
Rule #1
—
Work hard
.
If you can’t be the smartest in the room, become the most informed.

Mel went back to her notes. This was good stuff. She used to have the inside track on all of Elite’s clients. Not because she was stalking them or trying to impress anyone, but because she was genuinely interested in people, and the tips and tidbits of information she gathered always proved important at some point in the campaign. It was then that it started to dawn on her. There was a time when she was good at her job. When she cared.

Frankie flipped the next slide:
Rule #2—Know what you want and go for it.

Now, that had been precisely the problem for Mel, especially lately. She didn’t
know
what she wanted. Since moving to Atlanta, her existence had been strictly focused on making a life that would impress her friends and family in Sweetwater. It wasn’t necessarily what she wanted; it was more about appearances.

The first year she came back for the
Last Hurrah
, she’d been working with the Falcons and was able to talk two of the big players into doing community work in her hometown. She even got them to ride on one of the floats in the parade. The second year, she brought Kevin to play the role of her new boyfriend. He played it up in a completely over-the-top way. Then over the New Year, she had Viv and Jarod join her for the party in the town square. Needless to say, they attracted attention. Now, the year Teddy was ready to come home—the year it really mattered—she had nothing.

Before she read that stupid email, she had planned on coming to the celebration without any bells and whistles. This was the year she planned on coming by herself, as herself. No more smoke and mirrors. No more distractions. Because, shoot, it was exhausting living a lie, and she didn’t want to do it anymore. But how could she face them without any sort of diversion? How could she face Teddy?

Mel slammed down the rest of her coffee as the room anxiously awaited the next kernel of the guru’s genius. Frankie didn’t delay. She whipped through the slides.

Rule #3—Connect and be connected. You don’t have to go at it alone.

Click.

Rule #4—Play in the boys’ sandbox
.

Click.

Rule #5—Leave to get ahead.

It was the last one that really stuck with Mel. Frankie said women sometimes become pigeonholed in their roles, and even after they gain experience and grow, the people in charge only see a woman for what she was—not who she had become.

Maybe that’s what was happening at Elite…and the rest of her life. Maybe it was time to move on. With the new Teddy development, it did seem like the Universe was giving her a sign. She could be like Scarlett—back from the trenches to return to her home a stronger woman. But to do that, she’d have to up her game at work. She wasn’t going to return to Sweetwater without a solid recommendation from the Ice Queen. With that in her back pocket, she’d have her pick of jobs. She just needed to find a way to fix things with her boss.

“So”—Frankie’s voice brought Mel back to the task at hand—“what tools do you need to thrive in the workplace? What are you missing?”

“The only tool I’m missing at my office is a cock,” the young woman in the hideous navy suit said under her breath. She didn’t look up for approval or wait for reaction like most people did when trying to be clever. She kept writing in her notebook, twirling her hair, almost oblivious to her surroundings. Was it possible there was someone in the group who hadn’t fallen under Frankie’s spell?

It took a second before Melody burst out laughing.

The woman’s eyes darted over to her, like she’d just awoke from a dream. She’d coiled her hair so tightly, Mel thought she might pull it straight out of her head—which would be a shame because despite the mousy librarian look she had going on, the woman’s auburn locks, creamy skin, and delicate bone structure were
the
definition of beauty. “Oh God. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Not offending anyone over here, darlin’,” Mel whispered with a smile. The comic relief was more than welcome.

Mel considered the question herself. What was
she
missing to thrive? Money, ambition, drive, and intellect to name a few. At this point, the question should have been: what
wasn’t
she missing? That was
her
perception anyway.

“Next I’ll share some of the most effective tools to help you reach your goals,” Frankie informed the audience, before dismissing them for a fifteen minute break.

Solid marketing technique, Mel noted. End on a hook so the audience has to come back for more. Nicely done, Ms. Fink. She set her notes aside and followed the woman in navy to the lobby, planning to take full advantage of the coffee and cookies laid out. On her new budget, she was forced to drink instant, and there were no treats to be had. She’d only last another month before her bank account was completely depleted.

“Hi. I’m Melody Sharp,” she told the auburn haired woman when they reached the table overflowing with chocolate chip, macadamia, and oatmeal goodness. Her mouth watered. “I work at Elite PR.”

“Gennifer Foley, Access Advertising.” The woman extended a hand, but quickly snatched it back as she noted Melody’s were already overflowing with the treats and coffee.

“So what are you in for?” Mel sipped from her cup before releasing an orgasmic groan. It was absolutely heavenly.

“What do you mean?” Gennifer nibbled on a cookie and pretended not to notice as Mel not-so-discreetly lined her purse with the baked goods.

“Does Access require you to be a member of Atlanta’s Women in Business, or are you here of your own accord?” Satisfied with her haul, Mel led them away from the table to a seating area by the window that overlooked the Flatiron Building. It was her favorite in the entire city.

“I volunteered, if you can believe it.” Gennifer crossed her legs, shifting uncomfortably in the horrendous calf-length skirt.

“Really?” Mel let the word hang in the air, not quite believing her answer. Of course, she would’ve happily come to hear Frankie speak, but the rest of the events had been a series of outdated snooze fests. She couldn’t understand why anyone—especially of her generation—would attend willingly.

“Trying to learn survival skills,” Gennifer explained. “I basically work for a Neanderthal who thinks I’m there to fetch coffee and look cute for the male clients.”

“Well, that smells worse than bullshit.” Mel glanced at her ringing phone, silencing it when she saw the name
Kevin
come up. They hadn’t talked since her walk of shame, and she still wasn’t ready to deal, so she ignored it. It was becoming a very bad habit. Frankie would not approve.

“Tell me about it.” Gennifer smoothed her hands over her blazer. “That’s why I’ve opted for these hideous things. Absolutely dreadful, right? I’ve found the uglier the clothes, the stronger the armor.”

Mel did a double take and Gennifer grinned. “Oh, thank God,” Mel squealed. “I didn’t understand what was going on here.” She waved a hand over the navy ensemble.