6. Izzy

CHAPTER 6

IZZY

I sat at my table outside the Bel Café, staring into my coffee, too nervous to drink it. Today was my day to pitch to the partners, and shit, shit, shit . Was I prepared, truly? I'd thought so last night, looking over my concept, but in the cold light of day, I had to wonder. I'd been distracted these last few weeks, caught up in Spencer. Taking nights off from work to dive into his bed. Had I brought my A-game, or could I have pushed harder?

Chill out, I told myself. You got this, you hear?

I stirred my cold coffee and licked the end of the stir stick. It tasted mostly of sugar and hazelnut cream. A shadow fell over me, and I looked up.

"Hey, there," said Lola, and plopped down at my table. "Today's the big day, huh?"

"Uh-huh." My throat tightened.

"Don't stress. Are you stressing? Okay, breathe. Breathe."

"I'm not stressing," I said, but Lola waved me off.

"You're totally stressing. You've got to try yoga. It's not just stretching or a lot of woo-woo stuff. They teach you these exercises, ways to stay calm. Like, you breathe in, then you hold it five seconds, and when you breathe out again, you magically feel better."

"Magically, huh?"

"Abracadabra." Lola sipped her own coffee and tipped me a wink. "Seriously, you've got this. You're going to do great."

I glanced down at my hands, at my fresh-painted nails. "Yeah, you think so?"

"I know so." Lola had on her mom face, stern but sweet. "No one works as hard as you do. No one wants this more. You're going to go up there and knock the socks off the partners, and they won't just let you head up that new condo project. They'll put you on, like, the next Guggenheim."

I rolled my eyes at that last part, but I felt better. "Thank you," I said. "I needed to hear that."

"I know you did." Lola unwrapped a biscotti and took a bite. "I haven't seen you much lately. Where have you been?"

"Nowhere," I hedged. "At home. At work."

Lola wagged her biscotti. "At home, maybe. At work, not so much. You left early last Friday."

"I left on time."

"That's early for you." She sipped some more coffee. "I came by your desk some time around seven, and Jim said you ran out at five on the dot. You seeing someone?"

I choked on air. "What?"

"I think you are."

"Because I left on time one night?"

"Because you've been glowing." Lola grinned at me, gleeful. "You're glowing right now. You've got this spring in your step, like?—"

"It's my pitch! I'm excited about moving up."

Lola arched an eyebrow. "No one gets that giddy for a maybe-promotion."

"They do if they love their jobs."

"Fine, fine, don't tell me." Lola pooched her lip out. "Only, it's a shame. If you had met someone, we could double-date."

I leaned forward. "You met someone?"

"Yeah, and he's awesome . You've got to meet him. He's so cute and so funny, so charming, just perfect . It's been almost a month now, and I can't find a flaw. Even his moles — his damn moles are perfect. Actual beauty marks. He could be a model."

I sat back and listened to her rattle on. Well, I listened at first, then pretended to listen, my thoughts drifting back to my big presentation. I was ready, I knew it. I was beyond ready. I should've moved up by now, but this was my chance. All I had to do was dazzle the partners, and I knew I could do that. I'd blow their damn minds.

"I should head up," I said, when Lola ran out of chatter. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need it."

"Wish me luck anyway."

"Luck. Now, go kill it."

I headed up to the office, and I frowned to see Mark and Jim with the partners. They were in the big meeting room at one end of the table, huddled up laughing at some joke I wasn't in on. Harbison Sr. clapped Jim on the shoulder. Harbison Jr. leaned back, still chuckling. Stern caught me staring and beckoned me in. I hovered in the doorway, one hand on the door.

"I can come back when you're done here. I think I'm still early."

"No, you're right on time." Stern waved me in. "Come and sit down. This is a bake-off."

I gaped at him. Surely I hadn't heard right. A bake-off? With the douche squad? But this was my shot.

"We loved your idea," said Harbison Jr. "Letting a junior associate head up the Rio job. It's the perfect opportunity to show us your chops, plus make some contacts that'll serve you well. We've invited all three of you to make your best pitch, and whoever nails it, Rio's all yours."

Stern nodded along with him. So did Harbison Sr. Jim winked down the table and I wanted to smack him. I slapped on a smile to keep my disappointment from showing.

"Why don't you go first?" said Stern, gesturing at me. "Is that a model you've got out in the hall?"

I grabbed my model off the table and carried it in, and set up my sketches on squat mini-easels. The partners leaned forward to peer into my model. Mark leaned over and whispered something to Jim. I ignored all of them and launched into my pitch.

"As you can see, it's three towers connected by four low-rise podiums over commercial spaces, with an inner quadrangle, fully landscaped. It feels airy, wide open, but it's high-occupancy. I've got four hundred tower units and eighty in the podiums, with eighteen of those being three-level townhomes." I tapped the end of my pen on my first concept. "This complex is a neighborhood unto itself. It has two shared roof gardens and a mini-park in the quadrangle, while still leaving space for private terraces for each ground-floor unit. It's a luxury complex, both Energy Star and LEED platinum compliant, with full gym facilities and an indoor pool. Here's my rough rendering of a typical unit."

I opened my laptop and fired up the screen, to show off the 3D model apartment. It was airy, high-ceilinged, with big picture windows, engineered wood flooring, a gleaming chef's kitchen. Stern put on his glasses.

"This would be one of the three-level townhomes?"

"No, it's a two-bedroom. We'd have two hundred of those, a hundred and fifty one-level condos, then fifty two-level, with the kitchen you see here."

"Let me see the commercial space. What's the square footage?"

I switched to the commercial space and ran through the specs, and how I saw it fitting into downtown. How it would help the neighborhood grow. Harbison Jr. reached for my laptop. He flipped back to the model home and poked his way through it. Harbison Sr. watched, but said nothing. Stern had questions, and I fielded them all, and by the time I was done, I felt like I had him.

"It looks good," he said. "I like all the green space."

"I designed it around that, the shift to a greener view. People wanting to be more environmentally conscious. Buyers can look forward to low energy usage, which means lower bills, and that's a big draw. Especially for the larger commercial tenants. With the drop in their overhead?—"

"Got it," said Stern. Harbison Sr. cleared his throat. Jim had slipped out while I wasn't looking, and come back with a stack of thick concept boards.

"I'll yield the floor," I said, sure I had nailed it. The Douchenozzle Brothers didn't even have a model. And from what I could see, their concept was humdrum, a squat mid-rise crackerbox you'd see anywhere.

"We started out with two separate concepts," said Jim. "But we had a lot of overlap, so we merged them together. We're totally green, same as Izzy, but our design is more streamlined. More value for money."

It took all my strength to keep my eyes from rolling. If by "streamlined," they meant "boring," okay, I'd buy that.

The more they went on, the more my confidence soared. Their building was decent, energy-efficient, but it wasn't eye-catching or innovative. It was just sort of there, a big concrete cube. No way would the partners go for it, especially Stern.

"I like it," said Stern, when they were done. "Minimal, basic, but it checks all the boxes. And it fits in with the rest of the block. Jim, you'll take lead, Mark and Izzy, you'll join him. We'll be here if you need us, but this is your baby."

Stern kept talking, but I couldn't hear him. My ears were ringing, my head full of bees. He'd gone with the cube? The great pile of concrete? Harbison Sr., I could see it happening, but Stern? Joe Stern? He hated boring. He called buildings like that one "nothingberghausens." So why had he… why…

"Thank you," said Jim. "We won't let you down. We've made a good start already, and with Izzy on board, maybe we'll even find room for your green space."

My whole body went hot, from my scalp to my soles. Room for green space, like that was all I brought to the table? Literal grass, a few clumps of trees? I clenched my fists so tight I felt my nails bending.

"You all right?" said Stern, as the douchebros filed out.

"I'm fine," I said, and forced a tight smile. I gathered my sketches and my mini-easels.

"Your concept was good. Smart and ambitious."

That was too much for me. I dropped my sketches on the table. "Then, not to sound rude, but why pick the safe one?"

"Budget was part of it," said Harbison Jr. "Theirs'll be easier, quicker to build."

"But it's mainly what Stern said," added Harbison Sr. "It's too ambitious. Too fancy by half. It doesn't fit with the neighborhood, or with?—"

"It does with the new blocks." I realized I'd just cut off the big boss, but I kept talking anyway, unable to stop. "The older buildings, sure, they're big concrete boxes. But if you go down the street a ways, where they just built the Sunrise, they're all much more modern, much more like mine."

"Maybe," said Stern. "But this would've been a first for you, taking the lead. You need to learn to walk before you can run."

"And Jim and Mark showed teamwork, combining their pitches. We like to see that," said Harbison Sr. "Shows they'll work well with clients, they know how to network. I haven't seen that with you so much. You're more of a lone wolf."

I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it again. They'd made up their minds, that much was clear. Maybe before I'd even walked in the room. Maybe the job would've always gone Jim's way, no matter what I brought to the table.

"All right," I said. "Thanks for the opportunity. I'll go meet with the dou— with Mark and Jim."

I shoved my sketches back into my portfolio case, scooped up my model, and dumped the lot on my desk. Then I headed straight down the hall and straight past Jim's office, out to the balcony where folks used to smoke. No one went out there since smoking got banned, and I flopped down on the lone chair and texted Lola.

They gave it to JIM!!!!!!!!!!!

Lola didn't answer, and I hissed, frustrated. I tried Spencer instead, the same screaming text. The dots popped up, vanished, and then my phone rang.

" Jim? " Spencer hollered, by way of hello. "They gave it to that dick? What the hell? Why?"

I sank down in my chair. "Because I'm not a team player. Because I'm too ambitious. Because I have no future here, no way up the ladder. This place is a boys' club, and I'm missing a penis."

"You can borrow mine, if you think that would help."

I didn't think anything could make me laugh right then, but I found myself snorting at Spencer's crack. "Might borrow that later, if you're going to be home. Or, no, you've got practice. You going out after?"

He made a humming sound like he was thinking. "Tell you what. What time are you off?"

"Around six, maybe seven. Why do you ask?"

"I'll swing by around seven and pick you up."

I sat up straighter. "For what?"

"It's a surprise."

"I hate surprises."

"You'll like this one, I promise. It'll make you feel better."

I scowled down the phone at him — I'd believe that when I saw it — but I was sort of curious, and a little excited. I was still mostly pissed, but under that, I felt… cared-for, this warm little spark in my churning anger.

"I have to get back," I said. "But, yeah, see you later. And, Spencer?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Save your thanks for later. Trust me, you'll love this."

He hung up. I smiled, and I shook my head slowly. No surprise could cancel out the partners' rejection, but somehow, that smile wouldn't wipe off my face.