Ready or Not (3 page)

Mallory hopped the C train back to Soho, mentally high-fiving every person in her car, and made her way up the sidewalk on Spring Street to the bar. Showplace was their go-to spot to let off a little steam and unwind from the day. They served the best drinks and offered a laid-back vibe. Plus, it was
their place
, and that made it awesome in its own right.

She located Brooklyn, Samantha, and Hunter at their standard table to the left of the long wooden bar at the center of the room. Purple lights backlit the bottles of alcohol in a rather grandiose display that Mallory couldn’t help but transfix on every once in a while. Something artistic about it drew her eye. The ceilings were tall, and the industrial rafters offered a gritty vibe reminiscent of old-school Soho that contrasted nicely with the trendier furniture.

The place was already filling up with locals, mostly lesbians but some not, and it was only just now five o’clock. So much for their best-kept secret. In the past year, Showplace had seemed to double in popularity. It functioned as a bar during the week but transformed into an edgier nightspot on weekends, complete with a DJ and a very active dance floor.

As Mallory approached the table, her three friends broke out in a round of applause. “I’d sing ‘For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow,’ but no one wants to hear me sing,” Brooklyn said, pulling Mallory into an embrace. “You’re an advertising rock star, you know that?”

Mallory smiled widely. “Thanks for noticing, and no singing required. Plus, it was a total team effort. They loved your graphics,” she said to Hunter. “As in, gonna-propose-and-have-their-children loved.”

“Score,” Hunter said, smiling.

“And the pitch? How’d that go? We need details.” Sam’s green eyes sparkled with excitement.

“They ate it up,” Mallory told them, then shifted to meet Brooklyn’s gaze. “Your day-in-the-life-of-a-dog idea had the whole room buzzing. They laughed. They applauded. Lives were changed forever. Oh, and they signed the contract.” She pulled it from her attaché and held it up in victory for her friends to see.

Sam snatched it and studied the fine print. “And they’re going with the recommended budget. Nice score, Ms. Spencer.”

Mallory grinned proudly. “I thought you’d like that, money ninja that you are. I’m getting the drinks today. We all deserve it. Martinis?”

“Yes,” chorused three happy faces.

Mallory approached the bar, and despite the growing crowd vying for attention, she didn’t have to wait long for that blond bartender to approach. The woman, Hope something, had worked there about a year now and had every lesbian in a fifteen-block radius crushing on her. It was pretty obnoxious. Then again, maybe that accounted for all the new business.

“What can I get for you?” Hope asked.

“Four cucumber martinis and a side of olives.”

“Coming up.” Hope smiled that easy smile she always seemed to smile, and Mallory nodded back politely instead. Flirtatious bartenders were so not her thing, regardless of how good-looking they might be. The whole concept was clichéd at best. Hope returned with a tray of four drinks and slid them expertly in Mallory’s direction.

“Enjoy.” And there was that smile again. Annoying.

“What do I owe you?” she asked.

“On the house.”

This wasn’t the first time either. “I don’t mind paying for the drinks,” Mallory said curtly.

“And I don’t mind letting the house do that.”

Mallory raised a questioning eyebrow. “Won’t you get in trouble with your boss?”

Hope smiled again. “Doubtful. But thank you for looking out for me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Mallory said sweetly. “But thanks for the drinks.” And with that, she was on her way back to her table.

“She was sooo flirting with you,” Samantha said, reaching for a martini.

“So what else is new?” Brooklyn asked. “I think it’s apparent that our friendly bartender has a thing for Little Miss Mallory.”

Mallory suppressed an eye roll. “She does not. She’s just flirtatious. Bartenders do that sort of thing for tips.”

“Correction,” Hunter said. “She’s flirtatious with
you.
Have you seen the throngs of hopeful young lesbians lining the bar, making eyes at her? Nothing. She ignores them all.”

Mallory shrugged. “Well, I haven’t done anything to encourage that kind of attention.”

“Except flaunt your ultra hotness in her bar several times a week,” Brooklyn pointed out and sipped her martini. “Someone’s got a crush. And by someone, I mean the woman who makes the best martinis I’ve ever tasted.”

Samantha sat back in her chair. “I have to say, she’s pretty easy on the eyes, that one.”

Hunter followed her gaze to the bar and stared back at Samantha. “I’m sitting right here.”

“Don’t worry. I prefer brunettes,” Sam said, leaning into Hunter and placing a kiss under her jaw. They’d been together for six months now, and while adorable, it was still a dynamic Mallory and Brooklyn were getting used to. Their best friends were now shacking up, and that required a tiny adjustment period.

Right on cue, Brooklyn met her eyes and smiled in solidarity. But it wasn’t like Brooklyn came without love-life complications of her own. Only a year ago she’d fallen in love with their sworn corporate rival, Jessica Lennox. At that point, things had turned a little tricky. But in the end, Mallory had found that with a little extra added maturity, they could all find a way to make it work. And they had. Brooklyn was enormously happy with Jessica, and Savvy was doing better than ever. A win-win.

“I bet you could score her number if you were interested,” Brooklyn whispered to Mallory.

Mallory leaned in and whispered back. “Except I’m not.”

Brooklyn stared at her like she just couldn’t quite believe that, which only irritated Mallory further. She glanced over her shoulder at the bar only to lock eyes with Hope, who, once again, smiled.

Damn it.

*

Mallory was the first one into the Savvy office that Friday morning. While the acquisition of the new dog-food client was a major coup, it didn’t mean they could let up. She had a new account on the horizon, an independent chain of movie theaters gaining ground in the Northeast, and as such, she needed to get a jump on the day. With a consultation set up with their CEO the following week, intense preparation would be part of her secret arsenal. Her competitors were spread too thin; therefore, hard work put Savvy ahead of the game.

She stifled a yawn. Given the early hour, it was lucky her commute was so short—an elevator ride from the fifteenth to the sixth floor, to be specific. One of the benefits of working in an artist’s loft was that zoning laws allowed her to live in the same building in which she worked. Samantha and Hunter, who lived on the eleventh floor, enjoyed the same convenience.

Mallory slid open the heavy door to the loft and flipped on the lights, surveying the empty office. High industrial ceilings topped an open floor plan populated with four desks, a less-than-comfortable (but gorgeous) sculpted couch, a fully functioning kitchen, and a heavy oak conference-room table for staff meetings. Everything they could possibly need to go to advertising war and win, and over the last nine years, they’d done a pretty awesome job of it. Soho Savvy was gaining momentum in the advertising industry and was now considered one of the go-to firms in New York City. Mallory couldn’t have hoped for more when they’d first agreed to go into business together that night so many years ago, sitting on the floor of her apartment. It had taken a lot of work over a number of years, but their boutique size allowed the agency to provide their clients personalized service, and their innovative campaign ideas had more than one marketing exec raising an interested eyebrow. She and her friends had built the business one client at a time, and there was nothing in life Mallory was more proud of.

“You headed inside?” Mallory jumped at the sound of Hunter’s voice behind her. “Or would you rather, you know, stare off into space a little while longer? Because we can do that.”

“Whoa. So did not see you walk up,” Mallory said to Hunter, her hand over her rapidly beating heart. “What are you doing here this early? You’re not an early riser. This is odd.”

“It’s Hamptons day,” Hunter said. “Since we’re heading out at noon, I thought I should get an early jump on things. I have an ad layout to get to Foster Foods before we close up shop.”

“Gotcha. Me too. Not the ad, but the jump on things.”

Hunter grinned at her and Mallory moved into the office. With spring newly upon them, she’d invited her friends to her family’s summer home on the beach in East Hampton. The place would go empty that weekend, and with the warmer temperatures, it would be fun to take advantage of a little fun in the sun, blow off some of the stress from the week.

“Good morning, everyone,” Sam said, entering the loft behind them. “You’re here early,” she said to Mallory.

“I didn’t know you were coming in early too,” Hunter said to Sam, who leaned in and placed a kiss on Hunter’s lips. “I’d have waited for you before coming down.”

“Last-minute decision,” Sam said, moving to her desk and switching on her computer. “I want to price out some of the location stuff for the Serenity shoot so Mal can send it over to them for approval before we leave for,” she put both hands in the air and looked skyward in reverence, “the Hamptons. We’re going to the Hamptons today, you guys!”

“Someone’s ready for a vacation,” Mallory said grinning. Sam’s happiness was contagious.

Samantha shook her head, her medium-length auburn hair bouncing. “You have no idea. I plan to eat cheeseburgers and stare at the water and sleep in and maybe do some stretching, which I never get to do in real life.
Stretching
, you guys. It’s going to be a time. Do you hear me? A time.”

Hunter passed Mallory a look. “No pressure or anything.”

“None at all,” Mallory said back in amusement.

“How is it everyone is here already?” Brooklyn asked from the loft’s door. “I was supposed to have been the early bird today. Why am I never the early bird?”

“Because you’re Brooklyn, and that’s cosmically impossible,” Mallory offered calmly. “Let me guess. Half day at the office so you wanted to make sure you hit your deadlines before we head out?”

“It’s like you read my thoughts,” Brooklyn whispered reverently. “Since we’re all here, should I make a Starbucks run? Please say yes.”

“It would make you queen of the office,” Sam said promptly from behind her computer monitor.

“Perfect, because I need to be queen of the office.” Brooklyn turned on her heel. “Her Corporate Majesty will be back shortly with java.”

“Do we have to call her that?” Hunter asked Sam as the door slid closed behind Brooklyn.

Samantha shrugged. “Just for an hour or so.”

Hunter nodded and hopped up on the counter with her laptop the way Hunter often did. “I can do this. And after five hours of making this layout my bitch, we hit the road and I stare at the water from Mallory’s fancy beach house.”

“I love Mal’s fancy beach house,” Sam said dreamily.

“Then we should hurry up and get there. Five hours and counting.” Mallory stared at her watch, marking the time. “And, go!”

With that, the Savvy office fell into silence and the team went to work. Mallory lost herself in press clippings and background research on what Big Top Theatres was all about as she sipped the latte Brooklyn had brought her. What she found was that the Big Top brand had garnered attention for being an unapologetic, edgy movie-theater chain that catered to younger audiences, selling alcohol and food, and taking the polite out of all customer-service announcements. Their cell-phone-policy videos were going viral on the Internet and garnering them a ton of buzz.

They now needed someone to help structure it all.

Uniquely, they were the type of client that fell outside of Savvy’s typical, more mainstream fare, but Mallory felt like a challenge might do them good. They could be just as hip and edgy as the next guy. More, in fact. She spent the latter part of the morning making some client calls and setting up a few new consultations, before a singsongy alarm sounded across the room.

Sam stood triumphantly with her phone in her hand. “Happy weekend, everybody! It’s time to road-trip and sing badly to the radio. Race you to the car. I call shotgun as long as Brooklyn’s not driving!”

*

Hope Sanders blinked against the slash of sunlight across her eyes and reached absently in the direction of her bedside table, anything to shut up the incessant beeping of that God-awful alarm clock. After snoozing the sucker, she rolled onto her back and slid farther beneath the covers, luxuriating in the warmth and how peaceful her body felt after a little bit of rest. Still craving more time, she was thereby willing to ignore the fact that it was 12:30 in the afternoon and time to get up. Well, at least ignore it for a little while longer.

Hope ran a hand through her blond hair, smoothing it from the night’s sleep, and brought it around to rest on one shoulder as she mentally scrolled through the checklist of things she needed to accomplish before opening the bar that night. As it was Friday, she’d start with payroll before meeting the electrician about the blinking lights in the kitchen, then take delivery on her liquor order, and end with a quick staff powwow to talk through the drink specials for the weekend. By that time, it would be time to get Showplace up and open by four p.m., as she was expecting a busy weekend ahead. Hopefully by two a.m. the next morning, she’d be back home in her small Soho apartment, eating dinner and doing it all again for Saturday night.

It wasn’t a glamorous life, but Showplace was everything to Hope.

Her dream, in fact.

She’d purchased the bar from the struggling owner at a steal just over a year and a half ago with a down payment she’d spent years socking away from big tips tending bar on the Lower East Side. It’s amazing the kind of money a dedicated bartender could make in New York City. Men tipped well when you smiled and listened to their stories, tossing in an occasional sympathetic nod. They tipped even better if you left a couple buttons undone, which she wasn’t opposed to doing when the occasion warranted it. Well worth it too, as it put her on the path to where she was now. Showplace was her ticket to a better life for herself, and after all of the slogging and hard work, she wasn’t about to blow it.