their one-on-one time. Finally, after working together for years they were starting to make some headway.
“I look forward to working with you and the rest of the Pathways team for many more years to come.” As Sharleen spoke, her boss’s smile got bigger, brighter. Encouraged, she went on. “I’ll miss working with Jocelyn, but her departure won’t have a negative effect on me. I’m committed to my clients, and I’d never do anything to impede their personal growth.”
“As you know, I’m expanding our services and planning to open centers in Seattle, Houston and LA later this year,” she said proudly. “I’m going to need someone I can trust to be my vice president, and I wanted you to know you’re one of the top contenders for the job.”
Sharleen wanted to break out in song, but she squelched her excitement. “When will you make a decision about the position?”
“By the end of May, if not sooner.”
Great! That gives me eight weeks to prove I’m the perfect woman for the job.
“I better go.” Mrs. Fontaine glanced at her gold wristwatch and rose from her chair. “I need to speak to Brad about Emilio Morretti before he leaves for the day.”
Oh. Hell. To. The. No! Sharleen surged to her feet. She didn’t want to get on Mrs. Fontaine’s bad side, but she had to set her boss straight. “I met with Mr. Morretti on Wednesday morning, and he made it very clear that he doesn’t want a life coach.”
“He’s still grieving the loss of his nephew. He doesn’t know what he wants.” Her tone was brisk, matter-of-fact. “Mr. Tate has given us a lot of business over the years, and we can’t afford to disappoint him.”
Sharleen wanted to roll her eyes, but she nodded her head in understanding. One minute we’re sharing a laugh, the next she’s taking jabs at me. Go figure! Mrs. Fontaine’s words were a veiled insult, a slap in the face, but Sharleen didn’t argue. She saw the bigger picture, understood what was at stake, and knew if she played her cards right there’d be a promotion in her future. Listening with half an ear, she considered her next move.
“Mr. Tate is a successful business manager, and every time one of his celebrity clients is photographed leaving our center the phones ring off the hook!” Dollar signs twinkled in her eyes. “Brad is a stellar life coach. He can get through to Emilio Morretti. I know it.”
And what am I? Chopped liver? Her body tensed, and her mouth curled in disgust. Pressing her lips together to trap a curse inside, she fumed. If I lose another client to Brad I’m going to scream! On the surface Sharleen remained calm, but she was annoyed with her boss and angry at herself. If she’d signed Emilio on Wednesday, instead of making googly eyes at him, she wouldn’t have to go toe-to-toe with Brad for her client. “I deserve to be Mr. Morretti’s life coach. I specialize in grief and trauma, and furthermore, I booked the initial consultation.”
“But he dismissed you shortly after you arrived at his estate.”
Sharleen winced, as if in physical pain. What the hell? Is Antwan my friend or not? She didn’t appreciate him talking to Mrs. Fontaine behind her back and planned to tell him just that the next time she saw him.
An idea came to her in a flash. Bingo! That was it! She’d have drinks with Antwan and Emilio at the Halftime Bar and convince Emilio to sign with her. It’s either that, or lose him to Brad-the-blue-eyed-schemer! Sharleen felt guilty about missing her uncle’s retirement party, but she couldn’t give Brad the upper hand, not with the VP position at stake.
“I’m meeting Mr. Tate and Mr. Morretti tonight to finish our consultation.” The lie came out of her mouth in a breathless, nervous gush, but she continued full speed ahead, before her boss could question her. “I’m confident Mr. Morretti will sign with us once I tell him more about our top-notch, award-winning agency.”
Her boss gave her a bewildered look and scratched her head. “I’m confused...”
Sharleen gulped. Her palms were slick with sweat, but she maintained her poise. She desperately needed another crack at Emilio Morretti. But when she opened her mouth to plead her case, Mrs. Fontaine raised a hand to silence her.
“I spoke to Mr. Tate at length this morning, and he never mentioned your meeting.”
“He’s a very busy man. It must have slipped his mind,” she said, shrugging her shoulders good-naturedly. The fib fell off her lips with ease, sounding plausible, convincing, too. “Since Halftime Bar is only a few blocks from here, I’m planning to head straight over once I finish my last session of the day.”
Her boss’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “You’re going to meet Emilio Morretti dressed like that?”
“Is there something wrong with my outfit?”
“Not if you’re going to a funeral!” she scoffed, her thin lips curved in disapproval. “Emilio Morretti is an international superstar and one of the sexiest bachelors in the world.”
“And?” Sharleen asked, puzzled. “What does his relationship status have to do with me?”
“I want you to knock his socks off, and that boring, navy blue suit isn’t going to cut it...”
You’re a fine one to talk! You always wear pantsuits!
“Your outfit does nothing to enhance your curves.”
Sharleen touched a hand to her fitted, three-button blazer. “But this is Chanel!”
“I don’t care,” Mrs. Fontaine snapped, sounding exasperated. “Put on some makeup, get rid of that hideous hair bun, and for goodness’ sake, show some cleavage!”
Sharleen cracked up. She couldn’t help it. Mrs. Fontaine was in her thirties and was a chic dresser with a unique sense of style, but the more her boss encouraged her to “sexify” her look, the harder she laughed.
“You have a great figure, but you dress like someone twice your age,” Mrs. Fontaine complained. She paused, as if deep in thought, then adamantly shook her head. “I take that back. My mother’s sixty-one, and she dresses way sexier than you.”
Oh, my goodness, she’s serious; I thought she was joking!
“I’ll give you one more crack at Mr. Morretti, but if he blows you off again, Brad’s in, and you’re out. Understood?”
Sharleen nodded and stepped aside to let Mrs. Fontaine pass. She was happy to see her boss go. Her next session was about to start, and now she had a business dinner with Emilio Morretti to prepare for, too. Mrs. Fontaine marched down the hall without another word and disappeared into the staff room.
Slumping against the door, Sharleen released a deep sigh. This was her last chance to impress Emilio Morretti, but she wasn’t going to dress like a Pussycat Doll to get his attention. She was better than that. And besides, she didn’t own any tight, low-cut dresses.
I’m not sexy, that’s why. I could never pull off that kind of look.
Sharleen dismissed the outrageous advice Mrs. Fontaine had given her seconds earlier. More determined than ever to prove her worth—and land that coveted VP position—Sharleen
