“No one deserves to get stuck in a room with that man,” I grumbled, sighing as I tapped the call button on the elevator. “Not even Monica deserves that.”
Lee groaned, adjusting the hem of her dress. She looked ready to slay in her red plaid number paired with thigh-high boots. “She’s the only person who deserves that fate.”
I giggled, stepping in as the doors popped open, squeezing beside a bellhop and his cart. “Besides, you’ve always wanted to see him shirtless, right? Maybe you’ll catch a glimpse.”
She grinned at my words as she stepped in. “Now you’re talking.”
* * *
Double-rooming with your best friend and secret boyfriend is trickier than one would think. I had to be cautious of every interaction, keeping enough space between the two of us to keep the charade going.
Jason was a natural, ducking out of the room while we showered, returning once I texted the coast was clear. Much to Lee’s disappointment, he did not walk around shirtless, dressing in the bathroom.
Lee and I slept in one bed regardless of his protests, unwilling to force anyone to sleep on a pull-out bed. When he grumbled, I loudly joked about scissoring, and he shut up, turning his back to us in a huff.
Day one was a walk in the park, literally, as we wandered around the convention center for hours. Lee and I mapped the place out, determined to find every potential employment opportunity or promising company.
We crossed paths with the men during the day, and while Jason was pushing Croft’s offerings, Marty sat on his phone, either playing games or talking to his wife. Afterward, we regrouped in the lobby and had dinner at a steakhouse before venturing to Central Park.
Day two was serious business. Lee and I hit the ground running with resumes, handing them out to the previous day’s contenders. We split up to cover more ground and stand apart, making faces at one another in passing.
Luckily, we both packed professional clothing, Lee helping me pick the best of the best. She still beat me in style with her emerald pantsuit, but I wasn’t shabby in my skirt and top combo, though I packed heels instead of flats for a convention, and I paid for it.
So far, I handed out ten copies of my resume, each prospective employer loving my credentials. I avoided Marty, too, flying under the radar.
I rounded a corner towards a streak of shipyard vendors, spying a man with a bushy mustache and coke-bottle glasses sitting alone in a booth, frowning at a tablet. He was older, around Dad’s age, dressed in a pale suit straight from the Miami Vice archives.
I eyed up his set up, a few posters strewn about, an open display of adapters spread wide. All around there were flashier booths, everyone fixated on the gimmicks.
I wandered over, clutching my notebook to my chest, fresh copies of my resume hidden inside. “Hello there,” I greeted.
He flinched in surprise, almost dropping his tablet. “Oh, hello there, Miss. I’m Reginald Commons, CEO and founder of Commons Electrical.” He extended a hand, tremors rocking through him.
I shook his hand, smiling wide. “Hello, I’m Elena Julian. I’m from Croft.”
His eyes lit up. “Oh, Croft? That’s wonderful! Let me show you our latest line!”
“I would love that.”
He went through his sales pitch, rattling off facts about their offerings and tinkering with product samples, handing me a few to examine. Several caught my eye, especially smaller devices than the bulkier counterparts I was used to seeing, ideal for tight spaces.
“So, who are your distribution partners?” I asked, curious. They were no-doubt in-demand items. It surprised me more people weren’t circling him like hawks.
“Oh... we don’t have any. We do all direct buys, but we’ve been thinking about distribution.”
I nodded eagerly, wanting to pounce, the product manager in me hungry for the line. It would sell like crazy to my regular customers.
“Can I have a copy of your offerings?” I asked. “My boss would love this stuff.” I skimmed my eyes over the crowd, desperate for a sign of Jason. He’d be all over their product.
“Absolutely, Elena. You said you were with Croft?”
“Yes, sir.”
His face twisted, running a hand over his mustache. “I talked to one of your people earlier. I hate to say it, but he didn’t give me the time of day.”
My heart dropped. How could Jason not be interested? The products were incredible.
“Tall guy? Dark hair?” I asked, cocking my head.
“No, shorter. Real red. Sweaty.” He gestured at about Marty’s height.
I sighed. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t take him personally. He’s an idiot.”
It slipped out before I could catch it, earning a hearty laugh. “Oh, I like you! I like you a lot!”
“I’m sorry. Sometimes I just get talking and...”
“Happens to the best of us,” he assured, waving a hand. “Hey, let me know if you’re ever looking to get out of the distribution business. You’re a smart cookie.”
“Actually...” I trailed, checking for a sign of Marty before slipping him a copy of my resume. “I’ve been exploring my options.”
He smiled, giving me a thumbs up. “Told you. I knew you’re smart.”
I glanced at one of the few posters on his booth. “Your operations are in Rhode Island?”
He nodded. “Our manufacturing plant is, but we mainly have remote office staff. You’d be remote if that’s okay.”
My heart soared, and it took everything to keep from bursting into happy tears. “That would be phenomenal.”
“Which city are you based out of?” he asked.
“I’m in Ithaca, but looking to move closer to home in Vermont to be near my father,” I replied. “Do you live near the manufacturing plant?”
He chuckled. “I practically lived at the site for thirty years. I moved an hour away for some breathing room a few months back.”
“Understandable,” I agreed.
“That’s sweet you’re moving to be near your folks. I wish my kids had the same values. My brats hightailed it down south and haven’t been back. I guess palm trees
