Carpe Bead'em (22 page)

“Stop before you break your ankles in
those four-inchers.” I point to her Gucci Drew high-heeled sandals with zip
closure.

“I love those.” Prudence bends to
inspect them a little closer.

“New line for the fall.” Beatrice points
her toe to accentuate the shoe. “I’ve got connections.” She smiles at me.

“Prudence, Beatrice, Prudence.” I’ve
never noticed how much their love for Gucci makes them more alike than not.
“Beatrice is my assistant.”

“Assistant extraordinaire.” She is proud
to be helping me out and I’m proud to help her out.

“What was all the noise?” Prudence asks
and frees herself from Beatrice.

“Beatrice just found out why you’re
here.”

“Oh.” She did a double take at Beatrice.
I can tell she’s sizing her up to see if she’ll rat me out.

“Don’t worry. I haven’t done anything on
company time. I’ve done a pretty good job of keeping them separate.”

“I hate to interrupt, but it’s almost
eleven
.”
Beatrice rolls up on her tiptoes and hands me my purse. “I’ll have fresh coffee
for the two of you when you get back.”

I look back and Beatrice holds her
crossed fingers in the air.

“Wish us luck.” I gush, rushing out the
door with Prudence hard on my heels.

We make it over to the board meeting
just as they were getting back from lunch.

Sophia met us at the office doors in
Saks.

“Ladies, I’m glad you found us okay.”
She smiles. “You must be Prudence. Hallie told me her lawyer might be
attending. It makes the bigwigs see that Beadnicks is a real operation, even
though Hallie started it out of her home.” Sophia is all business with
Prudence.

We follow Sophia and take a seat around
a huge twelve-person conference table. All twelve, apparently, are needed to
sign off on any deal. I’m glad I’ve got my one person, Prudence, on my side.

Once everyone sits down, Sophia asks me
to give some background information on myself as well as Beadnicks. My life
isn’t that exciting or fun, and by the looks of it, the suits feel the same way.
It looks as though they want me to stand on my head and juggle balls with my
feet.

Luckily, Sophia seems to understand. Her
smile shows true sparkling happiness at the idea of what Beadnicks can bring to
her counters.

“I want to share some of the statistics
from the Channel 19 viewers when Sheila Gray wears Beadnicks.” Sophia hands out
copies.

I have no idea how she got the
statistics and I don’t care. The only thing I care about is that three out of
five emails are about my single orange bracelet. And that’s from just the first
broadcast, not since she’s been wearing the new stuff.

My mind and heart are fighting each
other to see who can give me a freak attack first.
How the hell am I going
to keep up with all these orders?

All the suits look pleased with the
stats on the spreadsheet in front of them.

“How long do you think this trend will
last?” The suit closest to me asks. She snickers under her breath. “Do you
think you can keep up with the David Yurmans of the world?”

I don’t like her attitude or the tone of
her voice.

“Obviously you like Mr. Yurman by the
bracelet you are wearing, but what about all the other people who can’t afford
Mr. Yurman?” I point to her bracelet. “Or Gucci?” I use my hand to wave across
my Gucci ensemble. 

I continue on the attack.  “I have over
four hundred orders from four different high-end Chicago boutiques before Saks
came knocking on my door.” I pull out the copies of spreadsheets showing what
I’ve already sold.

“I’m already selling out in a boutique
in Hyde Park.” I start to distribute them one by one. “These reflect this
fall’s colors, with the anticipation of a spring line. The orders are already
streaming in, using spring colors and many new designs.”

“If you notice, Beadnicks and Fit
Pregnancy joined forces on the fall fashion shoot, shot here on your own
Fountain Square.” Prudence passes out the copies for each suit. “This will hit
the shelves in two months. I can guarantee you a write-up on the copy that Saks
here in Cincinnati provided the clothing from the Gucci boutique and Beadnicks
jewelry featured in Saks.”

“What are you saying?” The stone cold
suit asks Prudence.

“I’m saying that you’re going to make a
grave mistake if you don’t consider a prime location in your jewelry case for
Beadnicks and you’re going to be missing out on an excellent business
opportunity.” Prudence picks up her briefcase and motions for me to follow her.
“We will be anticipating your phone call. You will find our terms in the
marketing packet Beadnicks has put together for you to be agreeable.”

Prudence leaves the business proposals
in the middle of the table.

Sophia along with the other twelve suits
watch us leave in silence. It’s a long silence that rang in my ears with a
frightfulness I’ve never felt.

“Keep walking and don’t say a word.”
Prudence’s heels clink as she struts down the hall of Saks, head held high with
perfect posture in tow.

Her legs are so long, I have to run to
keep up with her.

“What was that?” I slam the door to my
office. “I think you just flushed my retirement down the toilet.”

I fan my face. It feels like it’s on
fire.

“That’s how business is done, my dear.”
Prudence pulls a bottle of champagne out of her bag and two plastic Dixie cups.
“I wasn’t going to sit there and let little Miss Puritan tear apart something
important to you. We don’t need Saks! We have Chicago and Nordstrom’s.”

Her eyes flash at the exact moment the
cork darts across the room. “Woo-hoo!”

She pours a little champagne in my cup
and a lot in her cup.

 “Nordstrom’s?” I question.

She holds her flowered Dixie cup in the
air. “Taking it to top!”

She chugs her champagne to my sip and
refills her twice before I finish. Taking it to the top makes my insides
tickle. This is the push I need to take Beadnicks to a whole new level.

Chapter Forty

Every night after work, I keep my mind
busy by beading from the newest shipment of beads. If I don’t keep my fingers
busy, I think they might have a mind of their own and dial Bo’s number. By the
end of the week, I finish two hundred bracelets for the boutiques and fifty to
replace the sold bracelets from One Bead at a Time.

When Friday rolls around, Henry is biting
at the bit to go bye-bye.

Lucy strolls in the door like she’s been
here this whole time. She walks over to my luggage next to the door and flicks
the handle. “Where are we going?”

“Look what I-75 drug in,” I say, referring
to the interstate between Cincinnati and Mason Crossing. “Nice of you to stop
in
your home.
”

“Nice to see you haven’t changed with
all your fame.” She inspects the bracelets on my arm. Not only does one
bracelet look great, three together are unbelievably gorgeous. All the colors
sparkle when the bracelets rub together, leaving a fun jingling sound.

“Where’s the stash? I’ll sort through
what I want for myself.” She looks up at me, dropping my wrist. “What? You
think I’m missing girls’ night in?” One thing about Lucy, she may be head over
heels in love, but she never lets the girls down.

I smile and welcome her to a seat in the
Solara. I’m glad I did, because the five-hour drive back to Chicago feels like
a breeze with Lucy yammering on about her problems with Beck.

“I just don’t know what to do.” Lucy
continues to talk out loud. “I can do my job in Kentucky, but do I want to move
away from my friends and the life I’ve made for myself?”

“Tell me about it.” I mumble, “Trust me,
I know all about up and moving.”

“Oh, Hallie, I’m so sorry.” Lucy twists
sideways in her. “It’s strange how are lives are resembling each other.”

With my hands on the wheel and eyes
straight ahead, I don’t comment. I don’t see a resemblance in our lives at all.
She has two loving parents still walking on the earth. She was popular in high
school. Her parents paid for her to go to college. And she has the world by the
balls.

Me?

My parents were killed. I was sent to
live with Aunt Grace, who made me wear hand-me-downs from someone I don’t know.
She made me stand in line with her, once a month, at the free clothes store,
which never ever had pants long enough to fit me. So not only was I not popular
in school, I wore floods! When I did go to college, I had to apply for grants,
scholarships and student loans that I’m still paying back.

But it’s good to have my best friend
beside me. I don’t want to think about what my life will be like if she does
move. It’s taking everything in my power not to tell her to stay with me. We’re
like Jenny and Forest Gump, peas and carrots.

Still, her pain is real, and I
listen—all the way home.

“Chicago hasn’t been the same without
you girls.” Sam hugs us. It’s funny how we’ve become close with the doorman
after living here for a couple years. Really, there is no other way, with him
having to be the one all visitors have to go through. “When are you two coming
home, for good?” He holds the door.

“I have one month. O-n-e.”

We both look at Lucy anticipating her
answer.

“I don’t know. Maybe t-w-o.” Lucy spells
it out mocking me.

The condo is warm and inviting as it always
is. Lucy’s featherbed ruffles when she dives into it, with Henry right behind. 
I search for my light switch because my Clapper is in Cincinnati. The city
lights help as they shine through the window.

I stop and take in the view. Chicago is
beautiful. I close my eyes and listen to the cars below, honking their horns.
Did I really miss the noise? Or it was white noise all these years?

I haven’t thought about what I’m going
to do. I don’t have the energy to waste on Bo. I want to focus all my energy on
Beadnicks and making it the most successful thing in my life. Karma owes me and
it’s my time.

I pull out my killer jeans. I’ve missed
them. I hear the angels sing when I pull them out of the closet.

“Ah.” I smell my 7 for all Man Kind
jeans.

Of course I had to have them when I saw
them on Jennifer Aniston in
People
magazine. If I only looked as good as
her.

“Let me pour myself into you.” I pat
them like a fine fur.

I pair it with my white sequence tank,
strappy silver heels and four original Beadnicks bracelets.  I’m ready to get
back in the groove of my life.

The line to get in the bar is out the
door. Bo has obviously gone all out to showcase The Mean Street Blues Band. The
marquee lights flash the drink deals. This is crazy, I suddenly decide. There
is no way I’m going to stand in line when I can enjoy myself in Cincinnati
relaxing to the same smooth blues band at the Palour. I’ll just go back home
and make some jewelry.

“Hallie!” Piper scream.

 I cringe at the sound of her voice.

“Hallie!” she screams again.

I hear the clump of her heels running up
behind me. There she is, peppy Piper all decked out.

“I didn’t know you were coming here this
weekend. Why didn’t you tell me?” She tilts her head to the side like one of
those high-spirited cheerleaders. She clasps her hands in delight.“Are you
going to check up on me tomorrow?”

Technically I can do it since I’m the new
regional and the thought of “checking up on her” gives me a little power, but I
won’t waste my time.

“No. I am here to see the band.”

“Oh. Do you know them?” She acts left
out of the loop. “Bo has really gone to great lengths for this.”

Of course he has. It’s torture standing
here listening to her talk about him.

“Really?” I back up, trying to keep my
distance from her as she creeps closer. I fall back on my heels and into a pair
of arms.

“Oh!” Luckily the arms hold me tight.

“Hallie?” The lead singer of The Mean
Street Band, is taking a smoking break outside and he remembers my name!. I
couldn’t have scripted this better if I was Quentin Tarantino. “Why are you in
this line?”

Piper ‘s jaw drops.

“Pick your mouth up, honey. Chicago
streets aren’t that clean,” I say as I wave over my shoulder, walking behind
the lead singer into the back entrance.

“Hey, thanks for bringing Bo in the
Parlour that night. We’re having a blast.” He takes me by the arm and off we
go. “He gave us a tour of Chicago last night and we’ve been hanging all day.”

I smile and watch him jump back behind
the curtain to take his place on stage. I’m having the best luck lately! Maybe
not with Bo, but the other parts of my life are pretty good. I look up to
heaven and wink. Okay God, I might have some evil thoughts, but really thanks.
Gratitude. That’s one thing my good Italian family left me.