He started to walk toward the boardroom where our meeting would take place in a few short minutes, sending me a non-verbal hint that I should follow him. I took a seat next to the one he chose. The other side of the table was empty, but it wouldn't be for long. Soon it would seat Jack and anyone else he chose to bring along to the meeting.
Did he have anyone else to bring? Eh, it didn't really matter anyhow.
"This is so big for me, Effie. I've been trying to get Jack in here for a long time." He kept nervously tapping his fingers against the smooth surface of the table. I'd never seen him this nervous before. "I just hope I can break through to him. He's brilliant."
"I'm sure you'll be fine," I said. I didn't really know what else to say. He was sort of making me nervous, even though I was just supposed to be an observer.
We sat there for what seemed like hours, staring at a nice blank spot on the wall where a clock would have fit nicely. "Dammit, where is he?" Sam kept muttering those same words under his breath. As far as I could tell, he was essentially terrified that he had already blown his big opportunity.
I slowly nursed my coffee, taking tiny sips as we continued to wait for the infamous Jack Teller. Even though Stacy Levons was only in her late-twenties, for some reason I imagined Jack as being an older, more seasoned veteran of the entertainment business.
"I can't believe this shit," Sam said. "These big guys are so full of themselves. I'll be right back." It was such a blatant departure from his former optimism. He stood up and briskly walked out of the boardroom, his steps pounding into the carpeted floor. I could only hope Jack hadn't been standing outside as Sam cursed him...
I played with my phone for a couple of minutes, distracting myself from the fear that this big shot was going to walk in while I was all alone—but it didn't happen. Eventually, my restlessness got the best of me and I stood up with my coffee, slowly pacing around the office as I waited for Sam to return.
After doing a couple of laps around the room, a business card from a hair salon fell out of my pocket and fell on the floor right in front of the door. I leaned down to pick it up, my coffee still in hand.
"Hey, I'm so sorry I—"
The voice hit my ears at the same time the body struck mine, a collision for the ages. My cup of coffee flew out of my hand and spilled across the front of my dark blue blouse. "Shit!" I stood up and set the now-empty cup on the table, examining the damage. There was a huge, dark stain across the front, all the way from my chest to my stomach. Thank God it had cooled off by then.
And then I saw him.
Jack Teller was gorgeous, his white smile nearly blinding, his body taut and perfectly muscular. Probably six foot three, he towered over my meager five foot four. Freshly clean shaven, but would have been perfectly fine with stubble. Classically beautiful, yet modern, urbane.
I couldn't break eye contact with him once it began, his eyes so green, so striking that I could almost drown in them. He was clad in a nice pair of light brown slacks—almost the same color as his hair—that complemented his charcoal sports coat and dress shirt. There was something terribly interesting about him.
He was like the perfect blend of artsy and business oriented. His attire was an obvious attempt to look the professional part, yet his messy brown hair seemed to reveal something entirely different, the tufts flowing in every possible direction. It was just long enough that you could pull on it...
"God, I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm Jack. I didn't see you there." He reached out his hand to shake mine—and time seemed to stop.
Dammit, why was this happening to me?
I froze. Honestly, it was as if I were at the subway. I was stuck, my mind in some other space entirely as the world roared around me. And then, everything rushed back at once, an explosion of lights and colors and sounds. "I'm Effie!" I said. It came out far louder—and excitable—than I intended.
"Let me get you some paper towel," he said as he disappeared around the corner. I heard some mumbling in the background and then suddenly wondered if he was actually going to come back. If he was a super stuck-up businessman, he might just walk out instead of dealing with the undignified hassle of bringing poor me paper towel.
It also seemed very possible that the whole encounter had just been my mind playing tricks on me. Maybe Jack Teller was just an apparition. So many possibilities and so little time to deal with them.
"God, I'm so sorry," he said as he handed me a wad of paper towel. He came back! "I was late, and then I rushed in and—"
"No, no, it's okay," I said, wanting to avoid any additional apologies on his part.
"Effie, what the hell happened?" Sam had stepped into the doorway and only saw me wiping down my blouse with paper towels. A look of horror formed on his face when he realized that his star potential client was standing right next to me. "J-jack?" he mumbled, half to himself, half to Jack.
"Hi, Sam. Jack Teller, as you probably already knew. Sorry, I'm late. Long night in the studio."
Sam's perplexed look was almost as mesmerizing as Jack's beauty. "Uh, Effie, do
