Spooning (25 page)

Mid-brainstorm, I was interrupted. “Charlotte!” Donna screamed as she ran past my cube.

Now what? It was the bolt of lightning I was dreading. But wait, why did it strike me?

“Um, what? Yes Donna. I'm right behind you.” Run, Forrest, run! I grabbed pen and pad, my treehouse list, and scurried down the hall after her. I knew that this wasn't going to be good. Donna never wanted to speak to me, at least not directly. Come to think of it, I don't even think she'd ever spoken to me. Little beads of sweat began to collect on my forehead and my mouth suddenly became dry and pasty. What the hell did I do? Okay, just breathe Charlie, breathe.

As I walked down the corridor to her office, I could sense everyone staring at me. I tried to keep my head low and walk fast to save face, but the whispering soon followed. Was this a good sign? Was this bad? Did my ass have a blaring yellow sign saying, “Kick me and kick me hard?” Apparently so. As I rounded the corner into Donna's office, I could hear her still trying to appease Jane.

“I understand, Jane, I
fully
understand,” she said as she hung up her phone. Then she turned to me. “Sit down, Charlotte.” I sat up straight upon hearing her enunciate each syllable of my given name.

So far, so good. I planted myself in the steel chair (cold metal cleverly disguised with an oh-so-warm brushed silver look) over in the far corner of her office. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, right? I sat there silently while she took notes. After what seemed like five minutes of senseless writing (could her pen move any further down the page?) she looked up and smiled. The grin on her face resembled one of those evil Disney vultures coming in for the kill.

“Thanks for coming in so quickly, Charlotte,” she said sweetly. “As you may have heard,” her eyes rolled sarcastically, “Jane has a little problem with the flowers
you
picked for today's segment.” Hold up! Rewind! The list of treehouse ideas
wilted in my hand. I looked around the office—had someone else come through the door? I sure as hell hadn't had anything to do with the damned red roses. For God's sake, I wasn't even the flower arranger! Generosa was the one who went to the flower market, picked the stems, brought them back in her company-paid-for SUV, and arranged them for the set. And how exactly was I involved?

“Now you're new …” Correction. I had been at
S&S
for five months. A record in my early employment career path.

“But we can't have such, ah, devastating disasters like the one we had this morning. Jane is quite upset, and with good reason,” she continued. Ah, yes. She's totally right because a hissy fit over red roses is entirely justifiable.

“So I need you to clean up the mess you made.” This finger pointing was starting to jab me in the all the wrong places. I was seething but I held my tongue.

“Now Jennifer is arriving on set tomorrow for the Valentine's Day shoot at ten A.M. We obviously won't have time to really rehearse since your mistake has made the planned rehearsal today ineffective. Now Ms. Lopez will be expecting everything to be in place …” Wait a minute! My heart stopped in my chest. Jennifer. Ms. Lopez. Put them together and you've got Ms. Jennifer Lopez! And I didn't even do the
New York Times
crossword puzzle!

“Jennifer Lopez is coming here? Here to
S&S
?”

“Yes, Charlotte. Now I'd like you to refer to her as Ms. Lopez. You just reminded me, I need to send out an e-mail asking everyone not to say hello to her, not to ask her personal questions, and not to ask her for an autograph. Anyway, I need you to find flowers that will please her—flowers that will evoke Ms. Lopez's independent and fierce spirit.”

Had she picked the right girl or what!? I knew the answer to every possible J. Lo question. Panic evaporated into excitement. This was going to be my “Wow item,” my tour de force, my magical moment to shine. You could bet that I was going to milk this assignment and come out on top.

“I'll get on this task right away, Donna. You can count on me.” Why did I have to revert to such cheesy and subservient catch phrases? “But what about Willie Nelson's treehouse shoot?”

“Treehouses are nothing new. We'll be scrapping that piece,” she scoffed as if we'd been working on that concept for minutes instead of months.

“But what about the wood from India?” I asked.

“Cancel it.” Little did she know it was en route on some enormous tanker in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. She looked up at me and held my gaze. “The flowers, Charlotte? Please?” It wasn't a polite please, it was more like a get your ass moving please.

“No pedestrian flowers for Ms. Lopez,” I recited and caught myself before I actually saluted.

T
hat night I rallied the troops at the apartment for an emergency meeting of the minds.

“My job is on the line at
S&S
,” I explained. “But I think I may also have a chance to become the next shining star. Can you guys take the day off work tomorrow?”

“I don't even have a vacation day yet, Charlie,” sighed Macie. “Not until the end of year one.”

I'd known it would be a lot to ask Macie considering that she'd never missed a day of class in college. Come sleet, snow,
105-degree temperature, or hangover, reliable Macie was never absent. She saw “sickness” as a sign of weakness and weak was something she was not. She would have been perfect for the armed forces—she was so disciplined and dependable. That's probably why my mom loved her so much. But right now, she needed to Save Private Charlie.

“My kids go crazy when I'm not around,” rationalized Wade.

“I have an important appointment at Brown Sugar about our new Beyoncé Bootylicious Extensions,” whined Syd.

“I have a Pilates training class every Tuesday morning,” chimed in Sage.

“Family emergency? I'm in,” cheered Tara.

I held my hands, Wade-teacher-style, to silence the group, which had now evolved into a chattering mass of explanations and excuses. “Girls, who do we aspire to be? Who do we pray to each night? Who is our coach, our mentor, our idol?”

“J. Lo!” They exclaimed in perfect sync.

“And who is going to be on
Sunshine & Sensibility
tomorrow?” I called in full cheerleader mode. All their mouths dropped open.

“J. Lo,” whispered Syd in pure disbelief. They all started talking at once, rehashing their Tuesday agendas. There was no way they were going to miss an opportunity to meet Jenny from the Block herself.

“Wait. It gets better. To make the visit a success, I've been put in charge of coming up with the perfect flower to decorate the set. They'll be a decorative backdrop for when J. Lo concocts her mother's favorite recipe—some cinnamon bun thingy.”

“You're in charge of flowers? That's all you have to do to
score points at work is decorate the set with the right flower?” asked Macie.

“You have no idea how essential the flower selection is.”

“Okay, J. Lo loves two flowers,” recited Tara. “She had gardenias at her first wedding and peonies at her second. Who knows what she wanted for the Ben nuptials, but I think she might have had both at her private ceremony with Marc Anthony.”

“Now would we be bringing up bad memories with those selections?” I asked.

“That girl changes men like the weatherman changes his mind.”

“She can be fickle about men, but I bet our lady sticks by her flowers. Can you have both on the set?” Macie theorized.

“Well, Jane likes simplicity. But I can have both ready to go,” I reasoned. We made plans for the girls to arrive at the office at 7:30 A.M. I planned to stash them in my cubicle and then let them watch the taping from the sidelines. With so many charity auction tours coming in and out of the office, I figured no one would think twice about a small gaggle of girls coming through.

T
uesday morning was chaotic. Ms. Lopez's limo was late, so the buzz around the studio was that she had hopped into a taxi hoping that the New York cabbie could make up the time. Oh, the lengths our lady would go to—riding in a germ-ridden cab like a commoner! But more important, J. Lo probably knew (or sensed) that Jane despised tardiness. Luckily, the extra minutes bought us some much-needed time, leaving us girls a few seconds to primp. The six of us were hanging out in the receptionist's
office when J. Lo arrived, waltzing through with a single bodyguard but sans entourage (they were probably still delayed in the limo). Like monkeys in a tree, our heads turned and watched her saunter down the hallway with every assistant in the building at her heels.

As she shed her coat, I noticed she was wearing all white. From her head to her toe, she was a winter wonderland. Gone were the days of short shorts and gaudy headbands from her P. Diddy days. The two-piece, perfectly tailored suit must have been couture; it was stylish, sleek, and fit her body like a glove. It wasn't too tight, but was tight enough to flaunt that fabulous female figure. There was no loud jewelry (although I bet she missed that million-dollar pink diamond) and no low, plunging necklines. Yep, J. Lo, Ms. Jennifer Lopez, was a vision of taste and style when she stepped into the
S&S
offices.

“The gardenias are out!” I whispered to the troops. “They won't show up well on camera against her outfit.”

“Bring on the peonies,” Macie whispered. I left the girls with Julie and ran off to Set A to fluff the peonies. Two minutes later J. Lo walked in arm in arm with Jane, while the makeup artists waved brushes over their faces with last-minute strokes.

“Oh my God, Jane!” J. Lo gushed. “These peonies are just absolutely extraordinary!” Little did she know what a pretty penny those peonies had cost the company. “How did you know that they are my absolute favorite?” she asked. Of course Jane just smiled and nodded. “Not many people understand the virtues of peonies,” J. Lo went on. “They appear delicate but they're actually quite hearty. Their simplicity is so beguiling. They have so much more to offer than the common rose.”

“Did anyone get that? I mean did anyone get that!” Jane screeched in true diva fashion. To give her credit, she didn't
put on that much of a façade. She glared toward the back of the set, toward the cameramen shielded in dark anonymity.

“We may have to have you say that again when we're rolling,” Jane explained to J. Lo. Little did Jennifer know that Jane expected her to recite it word for word.

“Got it!” called a lone cameraman. “I was getting some B-shots of the flower vases and picked it up then Jane. No problem.”

“Wonderful,” sighed Jane (along with the rest of the crew). “You must know that Queen Elizabeth the First suffered from anthophobia.”

“Oh? What's anthophobia?” J. Lo looked genuinely concerned about this long-lost member of the royal family.

“It is an unusual psychological disorder—a fear of roses.”

“Ahh. I also adore gardenias. They are my second favorite flower. I often have them put in my trailer when I'm filming. The scent is heavenly.” When I heard that comment, I was off like Flash Gordon. I ran to the potting shed and grabbed the extra gardenias we had on hand. Back in the craft room, I put Suzi to work creating a display that would bring tears to a socialite bride's eyes.