A/N: All familiar characters/etc. belong to Janet Evanovich, only my words are my own. I am not making any profit from this.
I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter and thanks for coming back for another helping. A special thank you to everyone who took the time to review, favorite and follow the story, I appreciate all of your kind words and support.
I know the story starts off a bit slow, but it'll be gearing up pretty soon! (And sorry for not realizing when I first decided where to set up chapter breaks that this one would be a beast at about twice the length of first chapter…)
Part I. "A man, when he WISHes, is the master of his fate." - Jose Ferrer
Chapter 2
SP POV - 04 APR 2015
I quickly slapped on another coat of mascara while checking my reflection before exiting my bathroom to head into the twins' room. "Thank you again for coming in on a Saturday morning Regina! You're a lifesaver, honestly," I said while heading over to the zoo-themed rug on which Serafina and Theodore were currently occupying themselves with pushing various shaped plastic items through their appropriately shaped holes.
Serafina was dressed in lilac and gray chevron patterned dress with gauzy pouf sleeves paired with lilac stockings with her curly, espresso hair, styled in the always popular "fountain" baby hairstyle and fixed with a purple ribbon. She fixed her emerald glare on a red cube that she was clumsily trying to fit into a triangular slot while Theodore was investigating a small, blue sphere while looking adorable in his camouflage t-shirt and overalls.
"Anytime Steph, I never mind helping out, especially with Fi and Theo. Now go before you're late! I can't handle Tuck complaining about that on the phone again!" Regina replied while helping Theo retrieve the blue ball that rolled out of his reach while expertly avoiding his penchant for tangling his hands in both her crimped, shoulder length black hair and exaggerated gold-hoop earrings.
"I know, I know. I'll be back in two hours, tops!" I announced before swooping down to give Serafina and Theo hugs and kisses on their latte hued cheeks. "Bye my raspberries. Be good for Auntie Reggie!" I called out as I headed to the living room to pick up my business portfolio from the minimalist navy linen tufted coffee table.
I hurried to my Mazda CX-5 and rushed to my breakfast meeting with Camilla and Tucker, exhilarated to go over the highly anticipated next phase for w*ish: expansion.
SP POV - 14 APR 2014
"Ugh, I feel like I'm never going to be comfortable again!" I groused as I fidgeted on the plush tan suede sofa in Calista's cozy town house while shoving one of her ruffled emerald throw pillows behind my back to alleviate the pain caused by my raspberries' recent growth and acrobatic tendencies.
"Get used to it. You still have two-plus glorious months to go!" Mary Lou snarked as she settled in next to me.
"Speaking of, we were just wondering how you were holding up. With the pregnancy and work and being on the outs with your mom," Victoria added with a level of finesse and that struck me as rehearsed.
"Is that why we're all hanging out right now? So you guys can check on how I'm handling everything?" I huffed indignantly while glaring at my so-called friends.
Calista reached forward to rest her hand on my arm from her seat at an adjacent recliner, "Steph, you're spreading yourself too thin and we're worried."
"I am not, I'm doing just fine on my own!" I protested while crossing my arms and resting them on my billowing, floral maxi-dress encased belly.
"This isn't… we're not expressing our opinions on the whole 'should you tell the father' issue. This is just about you and everything your shouldering," Mary Lou explained gently.
"Exactly. How you choose to deal with the father is your call, you're the only one who can make the right decision for you and the twins. And our opinions aside, we're behind you all the way on how you've opted to handle things, you know that," Vic supplied, leaning forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her artfully shredded jeans.
"We're just worried that you're taking on more than is wise. I mean, you're working at w*ish, in the boutique, designing, dealing with manufacturers and who knows what else along with RangeMan. Throw in the fact that you're cooking twins, it's a bit much on the overachieving, don't you think?" Calista asked with her patented courtroom head tilt-eyebrow arch combination.
"I mean, things with w*ish are still new, I have to put in the time to make sure things run smoothly and deadlines are met. And the merry men need me, I can't just bail on them. Besides, I only work a few hours a month for RangeMan," I argued.
"Yeah, we get that you have commitments, but do you realize that instead of slowing down and preparing for maternity leave and all that nesting crap you should be doing, you're taking on more and more?" Vic queried.
"I just… I'm not sure what else to do. It has to get done and it's on me to do it," I offered meekly, blinking through the buildup of tears in my eyes. The stress and obligations had been getting cumbersome for a while now, I'd been too busy to sit and let myself truly feel how overwhelmed I was. "What other options do I have?"
"Well, that's what we wanted to talk to you about, Steph," Mary Lou answered with cautious elation. "We've been thinking about how things are going and the fact that it's unlikely that your fabulous life will be calming down anytime soon, so we've come up with a plan to help you out."
I slowly absorbed their words as I thought over my precarious plight. I'd been gradually finding myself more and more inundated until the last few weeks where I'd found myself suffocated by endless 'To Do:' lists. I'd finally conceded to myself that things simply couldn't continue the way they had been when the treacherous combination of work stress, familial guilt and pregnancy hormones provoked several nights of me crying into my ice-cream with crushed Nacho Cheese Doritos (a baby brain inspired culinary concoction which I was eating with increasing frequency). I knew I needed help, I guess I was just reticent to admit I was struggling because to me, struggling seemed a lot like failing, and I could not fail. Not with w*ish and definitely not with my raspberries. The stakes were too high, and it seemed that the same pride that motivated me to keep going despite the odds stacked against me made me hesitant to ask for help which, in turn, seemed to be precipitating my failure. And all I needed to do to prevent failure is accept my friends' support and love. I nodded, unable to shove any words past the lump in my throat.
"Great! Thank you, you won't regret it!" Calista gushed, squeezing my arm.
"Re-regret what, Coop?" I asked, laying a hand on top of hers and squeezing back, silently thanking her for friendship.
"Hiring Reggie, your new personal assistant, secretary and nanny all rolled into one!" Victoria announced, handing me a sheet of paper.
I perused what appeared to be the resume of one Regina "Reggie" Milton. She graduated with honors a semester early from Rutgers University with a B.A. in psychology. She'd spent the last several semester doing research and had previous experience working at the on campus tutoring center, Baskin-Robbins and babysitting.
"She was at the top of an extensive list of candidates. She's friendly, smart, hardworking and per her references, a savant with children," Calista expounded.
"Oh, and willing to take infant CPR," Mary Lou added.
"But, do I- am I a personal assistant type of person?" I asked.
"Fashionista, business woman and soon-to-be single mother. Yup, you're in desperate need of personal assistant," Victoria supplied with a wink. "You're gonna love her, Steph, we promise!"
"Okay. I suppose I could use the help," I said with a nod as I deliberated how this would hopefully ameliorate my workload when I was struck with a burst of clarity regarding the past few minutes. "Oh my gosh, wa-was this an intervention?" I demanded vociferously.
"Well…" Calista hedged, looking at Victoria and Mary Lou for guidance on how to respond.
"It was something like that," Victoria supplied warily.
"Ugh, I can't even do the whole needing an intervention thing correctly! Interventions should be reserved for recreational drugs or alcohol or getting super slutty super often, not O.D.-ing on responsibility," I griped with an exaggerated eye roll.
"There's always next time!" Mary Lou sassed, patting me on the knee and causing us all to dissolve into giggles.
SP POV - 04 APR 2015
"Hey guys,' I announced my presence before plopping into a red vinyl cushioned seat at Caffe Espresso Italia, one of the few remaining local eateries in the Ironbound section of Newark. I looked across the table to see matching befuddled expressions adorning both Camilla and Tucker's faces. "What?"
"Wh-where are my babies?" Camilla demanded, interrupting her ritual of doctoring her coffee. "I was promised Auntie Cam time!"
"Huh? I definitely didn't promise that," I countered, hoping that another bout of insomnia hadn't led me to making commitments I'd forgotten about, although that had more or less stopped since Serafina and Theo had started sleeping through the night.
"It was an implied promise," Camilla said, waving her hand to dismiss my response while stirring her fancy coffee.
Tucker addressed my incredulous expression while perusing the menu, "we were looking forward to seeing them and they are honorary w*ish employees who're present at most of our meetings."
"I'll be sure to check our next meeting with their schedules," I quipped dryly. "So, what looks good?" I asked, snatching up the spare menu lying on the wooden tabletop and taking in the homey, old country vibe of our chosen meeting venue.
Once we'd made our brunch selections, Camilla called our meeting to order. "So, first we need you to sign off on the marketing material for the next w*ish line debut," she announced, handing me a few sheets of hefty photo-paper with glossy images promoting the new mommy*ish designs with her teal-glitter tipped fingers. Camilla was a strong proponent of projecting one's mood through their nail polish. Per our meetings over the last several months, she often felt "glittery", which is infinitely preferable to when she felt "matte", particularly when it was in a deep burgundy, like when Tucker had lunch with his ex.
The advertising images were flirty but subtle, exactly what I wanted to promote this line to new mothers. The genesis of this line was my grumbling during late night feedings and designs for personal use that I'd mentioned to Mary Lou about six months ago. She told me to pursue it as a design line for w*ish, but I was nervous about how it would be received or if it was enough of a muse to design around. However, Mary Lou, allied with Tucker, convinced me to add it to w*ish's repertoire. And now, several months later, mommy*ish would be making its debut as one of the alarmingly few high-end lingerie brands to have items catered to breastfeeding women.
"Wow, Tucker, these look amazing! I'm so excited for them to go out."
"Agreed, I'm confident the response is going to surpass all our projections. Especially since we're introducing the line just in time for Mother's Day," Tucker added with a genuine grin and accompanying dimple.
"And that will be a right around the time your Vogue interview hits the stands, which will also keep us forefront to our consumer market," Camilla added.
"Oh yeah, I'm really excited to see how it turns out. The questions were exactly what we'd hoped for to showcase w*ish and Natalie, the interviewer, and I got along great. It was more like talking to a friend than being on a stiff interview," I gushed.
"Mhmm," Tucker added as our waitress, a bubbly teenager named Sandra, per her name tag, arrived carrying our meals on a large, plastic tray. Once she'd delivered the meals and ensured that we were in need of nothing, Tucker resumed our discussion. "So Natalie, huh? You're on a first name basis with Vogue staffers?" he teased.
"Hey! We just really hit it off is all…" I defended my newfound friendship.
"No Steph, it's great that you can literally spend 15 minutes with someone and walk away with a new either friend or fan! It's just…" Tucker hedged uncomfortably before looking at Camilla for assistance.
"Well, we just… we wish sometimes that you'd maybe turn all that friendly onto the male population with something other than friendship in mind," Camilla illuminated carefully.
"What? What!" I exclaimed, completely unaware of how our lovely business meeting turning into me being shanghai'd into a conversation about my admittedly non-existent love life.
Camilla exchanged a heavy glance with Tucker before continuing sincerely, "Tuck and I just want you to be happy and I know you've had a lot of personal things going on and between w*ish and the twins you're pretty swamped, but you have so much to offer and you deserve to have someone to share your life with."
"And friend-zoning the entire male population is just not the way to go," Tucker added.
"You're young, hot and fun, not to mention hella successful. Enjoy it, Steph. Enjoy your life," Camilla implored.
"Cam, it's not that… simple. I just, I know I'm getting better at balancing things between the twins and work and friends and family drama, but it's still a lot to take and I'm not sure I'm in a place yet where it's fair of me to bring someone else into my crazy life. I'm just not… ready, as cliched as that sounds," I explained as best as I was able with a cringe. I'd thought about moving on romantically several times, especially in recent months, but the truth was, I wasn't ready. I wanted to be and I would be, just not today or tomorrow or probably any day during the next several weeks. Everything had been so sudden with the break-up and then between business plans and the surprise you're pregnant announcement my body gave me and then w*ish taking off and being a single parent, I hadn't really processed through the break-up and the fact that even thought things didn't, wouldn't and couldn't work between us, we would forever be bound by the two precious, perfect souls we'd created.
"That's fair," Tucker replied with a nod, "it's something that had been on our minds for a while now and now that we've told you, we're dropping it, promise." Tucker punctuated his statement by throwing a quick censuring glare at Camilla.
"Just think about it, that's all I ask," Camilla added with a nod of her own. After I answered with a trepidatious nod while blankly staring at the black-and-white picture covered wall between my dining companions, Camilla launched us back into our halted meeting. "Okay, so, next order of business, we need to talk about the locations for additional w*ish storefronts."
"What is your final recommendation on cities to launch the new w*ishes?" I asked with a forced, over-enthusiastic smile, relieved our conversation had moved back to a less loaded topic while digging into my garden omelet.
"Well," Tucker began, sifting through a few papers in his black, leather portfolio with the edgy Mod Management logo of two mirrored, casual, chunky script M's, "the best cities to facilitate w*ish expansion are Boston, New York City, Miami, Atlanta, Chicago, Dallas, Las Vegas and Rodeo Drive. We were thinking of starting with New York, Miami, Dallas, Vegas and Cali as the first wave to be opened in June and the rest would comprise the second wave to be opened tentatively in February."
"That sounds good, but, well… isn't five locations a bit ambitious for the first wave?" I queried. "It's not that I don't have faith, I do, completely, in w*ish and all of your advice, but I guess it just seems like a lot of work and well, with the twins' first birthday around the corner and house hunting and the fashion week line due in a few months, I guess I just don't want to bite off more than I can chew," I explained in a jumble of words and increasingly enthusiastic hand gestures. I finished by slumping down a bit in my seat.
"Okay, we can definitely work with that," Camilla consoled, halting the progress for a bite of her colorful frittata. "And I think you're right, by February, things will have cooled down a bit and it might be more practical to open more locations at that time. What do you think, Tuck?"
"Well… I think we should start with at least four locations," Tucker hummed, looking back through some very detailed charts, "Pushing the Dallas opening until February would work best".
"That sounds great, thanks guys!"
"So, we were thinking June 5th for the first wave of w*ish locations, I've emailed you some tentative dates for interviews in the locations to check out potential storefront locations and owners to keep with our schedule. And we were hoping to open a few Canadian and European locations in October of 2016 to capitalize on that year's Lingerie Fashion Week's w*ish entry!" Camilla explained with her patented enthusiasm.
"So, when's your meeting with your lawyer to finalize the contracts for the additional w*ish locations?" Tucker asked around a bite of jam-drenched toast.
I indulged in a sip of coffee and returned the green, oversized mug to the wooden table before answering, "in four days".
"Okay, we've put together a last minute check-list of things to keep in mind," Camilla replied, handing me a set of papers. "It's just basic information on similar contract rates and terms for the lingerie industry incase you have any questions about things to include or what other companies were doing."
"Wow, this is amazing. Thank you guys, this is above and beyond," I gushed as I quickly perused the wealth of information she'd just gifted me with. "I'll make sure Duncan sends you guys a copy of the latest contract draft before we officially finalize it, if that's okay?"
"Of course, we'd be glad to look over it," Tucker offered between bites of bacon.
I replied with a broad smile before shifting to the final and least exciting topic of discussion, "so, what are the projected manufacturing demands for the next few months, especially with the new locations?".
SP POV - 04 APR 2015
"Serafina, where are you running off to?" I joked as I snagged her from crawling her adorable, purple clad tush away from me and the edge of our fringed blanket and onto the grass. I plopped her into my lap, kissed the top of her head and handed her a couple of the oversized blocks Theo was playing with. "So Theo, what should we build?" I queried. I interpreted his thoughtful, amber gaze bordered by dense, dark eyelashes and accompanying furrowed brow to mean he wanted to build a tower and proceeded to help them build a fairly impressive multi-colored tower that rivaled them in height.
We'd spent a wonderful, relaxing afternoon at Branch Brook Park in Essex, a short trip from our apartment. I jogged with them nestled in their two-seater stroller, which seems high-tech enough to rival most aircraft, past the fragrant cherry blossoms, several greenhouses, the laurel wood boulder bridge and playground to settle us onto our piebald printed picnic blanket that stood out in stark contrast to the lawn near Branch Brook Lake. My raspberries took a nap in the shade of an impossibly large oak while I sketched a few ideas for nymph*ish, my entry collection for this year's Lingerie Fashion Week. After a quick snack of mashed organic peas I'd made myself courtesy of cooking classes from Ella Guzman, the chef, housekeeper and all-around mother hen to the employees at RangeMan, a private security company staffed by a curious blend of ex-military, ex-cons and me, an ex-Burg girl: me. After I'd helped Serafina and Theo tear and toss pieces of bread into the slightly murky lake to feed the ducks, we relocated to our blanket to play a few rounds of peek-a-boo, patty-cake and for them to test the limits of their ever increasing motility.
On days like this, I couldn't help but take time to sit back and marvel at the twist of fate by which I'd been blessed with the wondrous life that I had. I owned a thriving business I'd built from the ground up that allowed me to mesh the business acumen I'd acquired through determination to break from the limiting Burg mold I was expected to adhere to via Rutgers and my own creativity which was best expressed utilizing the skills I'd honed from years attending design school part-time. I had a beautiful family that I was able to grow and discover everything anew with by seeing the world and it's magnitude of possibilities through my children's wide, innocent eyes. I had a supportive, diverse group of friends and a (mostly) loving family. I was blessed, truly blessed, and I couldn't wait to enjoy the rest of the life I'd carved out for myself.
I shoved the sporadic yet persistent niggling at the periphery of my consciousness regarding the absent male figure in my Norman Rockwell-worthy quintessential, happy family picture back to the recesses of my mind. The three of us were whole as a family unit, we were, I confirmed to myself. And happy, we were very, very happy. And so was I, I thought as I tried to ignore the memory evoked of the individual who'd imprinted himself on my heart and who I often saw staring at me from my children's cherubic faces.
Besides, they were still babies. I had plenty of time to craft the perfect answer to all of the inevitable questions borne from a likely evolution of their curiosity to discover and interact with the expansive world around them. And it's not like there was a dearth of male role models in their lives. They were doted on by everyone from my father, the usually reserved retiree who came alive in their presence, to a building full of Merry Men, as I'd fondly dubbed my coworkers at RangeMan who had all eagerly appointed themselves uncles to Serafina and Theo.
I was interrupted from my reverie by Theo toppling over the tower we'd been carefully constructing and clapping gleefully as he watched it crumble into a heap on our blanket, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Serafina observed the wreckage with a confused expression, her eyebrows drawn adorably together and a slight pout as she contemplated the cause of the untimely demise of her architectural brilliance. I interrupted both of my raspberries by blitz-attacking them with tickling and was rewarded for my tactical genius by two sets of surprised shrieks and giggles as we tumbled onto the blanket.
SP POV - 06 APR 2015
I stepped off of the glass and granite elevator onto the 18th floor of the schmancy building that housed Vasiliou Ventures. My black stiletto boots marked my progress towards the glass reception desk that fit organically within the ice blue, chrome and white office.
"Hey Steph! It's great to see you again," the receptionist, Amanda, called out to me.
"Hi Amanda, is Aenea- oh my gosh! That is gorgeous!" I exclaimed, interrupting myself when I was close enough to notice the new, glinting piece of jewelry adorning her left hand. "When did Trevor ask?" I demanded excitedly as I held my hand out to better admire her engagement ring.
"He asked about six weeks ago," Amanda answered.
"It's beautiful," I cooed over the round cut solitaire that matched the twinkling in Amanda's eyes as she proceeded to share her engagement story.
"Trevor took me to the same park where he first told me he loved me. He set up a picnic in the evening with twinkle lights and music and flower petals," she gushed.
"That sounds amazing! You've got a keeper there."
"Oh, I know! We're trying to plan the wedding for this next March, so I'll probably be by w*ish to do a little wedding night and honeymoon shopping!" Amanda added with a saucy grin.
"Absolutely, let me know when you're coming by and I'll make sure you get the special friends and family discount!" I replied.
Amanda nodded enthusiastically in response. "Thanks! And Aeneas is ready for you, if you wanna head back," she said, nodding back towards his office.
I shot her a quick smile before heading further into the office. I passed by the arctic blue glass walled conference room encasing a 16 person, long white, granite table with matching white leather rolling chairs with chrome accents and knocked on the frosted azure glass door with Aeneas Vasiliou engraved on it in place of a name plate. Without pausing for a response, I twisted the sleek, brushed metal handle and opened the portal to the modern, white and frosty blue office to reveal the handsome owner of Vasiliou Ventures, his elbows leaning on his snowy granite with cerulean swirls desk and his lips quirked up in the charming, boyish smile I'd come to expect from him.
SP POV - 20 NOV 2013
I looked over at my audience of potential business partners as I took a quick, hopefully calming breath and regrouped. I was nearing the end of my heavily rehearsed pitch for w*ish and I had been completely confident about everything from the design samples I chose to bring to the handouts explaining projections for profitability and timelines until I'd actually started pitching. I knew I had been saying words, I just wasn't sure what any of them were. Everything since I'd handed out the information packets was just a rush of white noise. Hopefully I'd stuck more or less to what I'd practiced ad nauseam into the wee hours of the morning.
The white noise had finally subsided and I honestly wasn't sure which I preferred, being completely aware of how the meeting was going or being in my own bubble, oblivious to others and the world around me. Unfortunately, now that I was cognizant of my surroundings, I realized I'd stopped mid sentence. I turned a slightly shocked gaze at the angular, olive-toned face of Aeneas Vasiliou, Alexander Ramos's nephew and surrogate son who he was closer to and respected more than his own disastrous progeny, Homer and Hannibal. Having had the misfortune of dealing with Mr. Ramos's sons during my employment at RangeMan, I could absolutely see why he preferred the pressed, educated gentleman seated at the never-ending conference table before me.
Once Mr. Ramos had informed me that the meeting would be taking place at Vasiliou Ventures, I'd used my not inconsiderable RangeMan resources to dig up a little on the owner, one Mr. Aeneas Vasiliou. Turns out he was technically a Ramos. His mother was Ramos's little sister and his father was a casualty of Ramos's entrepreneurial activities. Apparently arms dealing came with a unique and not to be underestimated array of workplace hazards. After Aeneas's father's death, Ramos's sister refused to let her brother's world touch and taint her son, so Ramos was diligent in keeping Aeneas apart from the sordid parts of his life. He did, however ensure Aeneas could boast an MBA from Harvard and a thriving business that included managing and growing his fresh, newly laundered funds in completely legal ways. Hopefully w*ish would be deemed an appropriate addition to Ramos's portly portfolio.
As I searched my mind to recall where exactly in the pitch I'd paused, I glanced up from my multicolored, pastel notecards to see Aeneas send a look of encouragement my way paired with a surprisingly genuine, boyish smile for someone who's uncle could strike an impressive degree of fear in someone with just a mild glower. Thankfully, his silent support spurred me to dig up whatever confidence I could and follow through with my w*ish pitch.
"As you can see, from the market research I've amassed, w*ish is conservatively projected to become profitable within six months of its opening in February of 2014. Additionally, with the proposed starting and additional design lines, w*ish will continue to garner public interest and attract every sect of women that fall within our customer demographic," I explained assuredly as I rested my fingertips lightly on the gelid tabletop. "I am extremely dedicated to making w*ish a success with innovative designs made with impeccable quality and superior customer care, and I would be deeply appreciative of the opportunity to proceed on this journey with your partnership, Mr. Ramos," I concluded, maintaining eye-contact and hoping for a sign that they were receptive to my proposal.
Mr. Ramos and Aeneas flipped back through the handout packet I'd given them, focusing on the pages that outlined the projected timeline and proposed designs. They continued to talk softly between themselves while occasionally referring to the document I'd given them outlining my vision for w*ish until finally a smile cracked and spread across Mr. Ramos's visage. Seeing that, I immediately released a breath I hadn't noticed I was holding with a whoosh and waited to see which of the three of us would break the silence.
"I've always liked you Stephanie! From the very first time I met you and you saved me from my idiot sons, I had a feeling about you, krotída mou (Greek: my firecracker)!" Mr. Ramos exclaimed excitedly, his hands clasped in front of him.
It was almost too good to be true: Mr. Ramos wanted to help me make w*ish, my wish, a reality! This was the best news I'd had in months, and I couldn't wait to get started. I couldn't have stopped the brilliance of his smile from being reflected on my countenance if I'd wanted to. I was about to thank him, when I realized that he didn't actually say any words to the effect of 'hey, sign me up for the whole w*ish thing'. Crap. Crappity crap crap. I really hope I hadn't just jumped to the wrong conclusion, it would be crushing to get close enough to having my dreams come to fruition that I could taste it and then have it all cruelly snatched away by my own enthusiasm. "So…" I began trepidatiously, not wanting to have to voice the question I desperately needed answered.
"Yes, that was a yes!" Aeneas replied when he realized my confusion.
"No, that was a hell yes!" Mr. Ramos corrected, lovingly thumping Aeneas on the back of his carefully tousled head.
The concern that was creeping in was immediately replaced with exhilaration that I apparently had no filter on, per my response of "Oh wow. Thank you Mr. Ramos. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And Mr. Vasiliou, thank you too. I can't… I can't begin to explain how much this means to me," I said, furiously blinking to stop the telltale prickling of tears.
"Of course, krotída mou (Greek: my firecracker), anything for you! There's no need to thank us beyond making w*ish the success I know you can," Mr. Ramos replied jovially as we all enthusiastically shook hands. "Although, if you're determined to thank me and I still can't convince you to be wife number five-"
"Number six, Theíos (Greek: Uncle), number five was the organic honey maker, who filled the backyard with apiaries," Aeneas chortled. "Bee hives," he amended at my confusion.
"Ugh, damn bees were everywhere," Mr. Ramos shuddered, "I always try to forget about her, definitely my own personal blue period, although strangely enough, she mostly wore red".
"Nope, only-wore-red was lucky number three," Aeneas corrected, smirking slightly with his sight focused on his shoes.
"Eh, I am an old man, it's hard to remember these things, you'll see one day" Mr. Ramos shrugged, "perhaps as a thank you, I could convince you to at least outfit the lucky lady who will reprise the role as my wife in some of your brilliant designs".
I giggled at the wink Mr. Ramos tossed my way and nodded. After a quick negotiation of terms and the roles each of us would have with respect to w*ish, I was completely satisfied and excited to cash the check I'd been given to turn w*ish into reality and, thankfully, the humiliation from a particularly surprising outburst during which I'd compared Mr. Ramos, of Guns'R'Us: New Jersey, to a fairy grandmother granting me wishes had dulled.
"Thank you, again, Mr. Vasiliou," I said as Aeneas escorted me out of the conference room towards the lobby of his office.
"No problem, Miss Plum, and please, call me Aeneas," he replied.
"If you'll call me Stephanie or Steph. Miss Plum makes me feel like my mother's standing behind me," I said with a shudder belied by the humor in my eyes.
"Stephanie then. I'm looking forward to working with you," he said as he hit the inverted triangle button to call the elevator.
I smiled brightly in response, equally eager for w*ish to come to life. "Oh, I was wondering, was does kr-krotída mean? Mr. Ramos kept saying it but honestly, while we were in there all I could think about was making the pitch, everything else was kind of a blur until you told me he was onboard," I said in a whispered rush, tilting my head towards the conference room.
"Oh that," Aeneas said, stepping closer and whispering back, "he was calling you his firecracker. It seems my uncle is quite taken with you, and now that I've met you, I completely understand why". I was captivated by his whiskey gaze and alluring cologne despite knowing that I was likely reading something there that wasn't. "Stephanie?"
"Hmm… yes," was my ever eloquent delayed response, I blame him and the whole charming-good-guy-awesome-smelling thing he had going on. Yup. Totally his fault.
"I was wondering if you wanted to go out," Aeneas whispered back, close enough that I could feel his breath on the side of my face.
Hmm, I guess I was reading him right. Unfortunately, the last charming man I'd let in still had me reeling and it didn't feel right or fair to accept Aeneas's enticing offer. "I-well, I'm not really… I-"
Thankfully, Aeneas saved me from my stuttering bout and de-escalated the blush infusing my cheeks as I stepped onto the elevator, "how about we call it a partnership celebration".
"Mkay," I nodded as I hit the lobby button.
"Okay. Partnership celebration this Saturday evening, next time though…" he said with a twinkle in his eyes just as the doors of the elevator closed leaving me grateful that Mr. Ramos stumbled upon me angry, teary and a little hysterical outside of 1st Trenton National Bank and curious as to how things with Mr. Vasi- I mean Aeneas would unfurl.
SP POV - 06 APR 2015
"Stephanie! Come on in and take a seat," Aeneas said, motioning to the two powder blue seats with chrome grommets along the edges across from his desk. "So," he began after I'd gotten comfortably settled against the curved back of the chair and placed my portfolio on top of his desk, "how's w*ish doing?"
"Great!," was my chipper response to the opening query he started each of the quarterly meetings we'd had over the past year and a half. "Everything is ready for the launch of the new line, mommy*ish, in May and things are progressing in line with our schedule for the new boutique locations," I explained, pulling out documentation for both topic points and handing them to him to peruse.
Aeneas skimmed through the papers quickly, gleaning the salient points I'd taken the initiative to highlight. "This all looks great; the new line should debut without any problems and I agree with the schedule you've put together for interviewing owners for the franchise locations and seeing the available spaces. Are you sure you don't want to increase the number of cities for the initial wave?"
"So, Cam and Tucker were initially planning to include Dallas in the first wave, I just felt like it might be a bit too much to take on. And I'm sure the four locations will be enough to start increasing w*ish's demand for when we open the second wave in February," I explained.
"That makes sense, although I can't imagine that between the five of us the result would be anything but success," Aeneas replied with a smile. "There was one other thing I was concerned about, making sure we pick the right people to help w*ish flourish, so I put this list of attributes and interview questions for you to look out for and ask." I nodded as I read through the stapled pages he handed me, making a few notes in the margins on things to pay particular attention to.
"Thanks, and I totally agree, however you or even Cam accompanying me on these interview trips isn't really a tenable solution. I was going to email you, Cam and perhaps even Tucker and Duncan about the final contenders to get your valuable insight. Also, I'm going talk to Tank about using RangeMan resources to run background checks on the finalists to make sure they're trustworthy," I supplied. I was acutely aware of his concern with handing over the reputation of w*ish, my work-baby, to literal strangers and trusting them to help make my dreams a reality. It was the cause of a small pit of nervousness that had taken up residence in my stomach since we'd first started seriously making strides towards opening additional w*ish locations. It was essentially a repurposing of the existing ball of anxiety that had plagued me on and off since finding out I was pregnant that only left when I'd gained enough confidence and amassed sufficient advice from friends to assure me that I would definitely not completely screw up my children's lives.
Aeneas wore his relief with my response on his visage, "that goes a long way to making me feel confident w*ish will be in worthy hands. I just want to add that I'd like you to compile the interview question answers and your overall impressions of the various final choices and their background check results for me to sign off on".
"Ok-ay," I responded slowly, not sure why Aeneas was taking a more active role than he normally did.
Luckily Aeneas was quick to realize my concern and assuaged my fears. "Steph, I completely trust your opinions and instincts, but I'd like to help and just provide another set of eyes that may see things from a slightly different perspective, to help make sure we find the best people possible. People we can bring into the w*ish family fold," he explained, reaching out to lay his hand lightly against where I had unconsciously fisted my hand against the cool desktop.
"You're right, that makes complete sense. Thanks for looking out for w*ish," I replied, loosening my fist and twisting my hand to squeeze his lightly in appreciation for his concern and dedication. "Thanks for looking out for me too," I added in a sotto voce.
"For you Steph, always. Besides, Theíos (Greek: Uncle) Alexander would be disappointed if I didn't watch out for his krotída (Greek: firecracker)!" Aeneas joked, palliating the suddenly heavy atmosphere. "So, there's something I wanted to discuss with you," he said, drumming his fingers along the documents I'd handed him earlier, a tell indicating slight trepidation. "I wanted to talk to you about… about turning over the reigns for the Newark w*ish location," he chased his statement by holding up his hands to ward off my pending rebuttal, "just think about it. I'm not saying you're not doing an amazing job there, but you've got so much on your plate managing w*ish as a company, coming up with designs, collaborating with Camilla and Tucker and handling the manufacturing and shipping as well. It's a lot and with the new locations opening and being run by others, you might want to consider a similar arrangement for the Newark location."
I bit my lip partially in contemplation and partially to keep my reactionary outburst in check. Aeneas did voice a valid point, one that I'd been pushing to the periphery for far too long. I was running myself a bit ragged between managing w*ish the company and the store location plus the part-time work I did for RangeMan. Toss in the nine-and-a-half month old raspberries and I was pretty beat most days. Something had to give, if I wanted to stay sane. Once I really got started on the new w*ish boutiques, my work load would double, maybe even triple. If I didn't hand something off, Serafina and Theo would be the ones to suffer and that is just not acceptable. Besides, they keep me fully saturated with happy, and I definitely crave that happy. The only things I was comfortable losing from my portfolio were either w*ish Newark or RangeMan. "I suppose you're right, I should consider handing over the management of the Newark storefront to someone, it's really the only place I can cut back responsibility-wise," I finally ceded only to be faced with a knowing, sympathetic smile indicating he knew I'd chosen to hold onto my professional bond with RangeMan a while longer. I hated that look, it was far too close to pity. "Ugh, you know I hate it when you're right!" I huffed jokingly throwing him a halfhearted glare. I knew the Merry Men would be there for my raspberries no matter what, but I wasn't ready to give up our monthly standing lunch date.
Aeneas followed my lead and moved the conversation along, "so, who were you thinking would do the flagship w*ish location justice?"
"Hmm, well Sofia and Mercedes obviously won't work because they're just part-time until they graduate from college," I began thinking my way through my current staff members. "Mary Lou's also part-time although I do trust her to do the job right."
"That's true, but if she doesn't have the time or want to take that kind of time away from her family, she probably won't accept the offer, however generous it may be," Aeneas added.
"True, so that leaves Allegra and Jessica," I clarified.
Allegra Peretti was a 27 year old single mother who was hard working, caring and fully vested in w*ish. Her ingenue had been whittled away by a manipulative boyfriend and incessant gossip harpooned by said boyfriend's mother and grandmother who creatively placed blame where it was least deserved in order to keep Allegra too downtrodden to demand what she was owed. She was also incredibly loyal to me and grateful because I took her in and gave her a way to support her family and escape the Burg. Gracie, her daughter, was the only good thing to come from Allegra's affair with a very married Anthony 'Tony' Morelli, older brother to Trenton PD vice detective Joseph Morelli, with whom I'd shared a rather rocky past. I had been on the receiving end of the hypocritical wrath of Angela and Bella Morelli, and I was glad to help someone escape similar persecution.
Jessica Davis had racked up more life experiences than most 24 year olds; the highlights included pickpocketing and helping Callista Cooper, Assistant District Attorney extraordinaire, put her boyfriend and his associates behind bars when she realized they were graduating from petty theft to holding hostages for ransom. She had made bounds from the angry-at-the-world foster kid she used to be, but I wasn't sure she was ready for the kind of responsibility managing w*ish full-time would demand.
"I think I'd feel best with Allegra in the position. She's always asking for more responsibility and I think she'll definitely be up to the challenge," I concluded, confident with my decision.
"I agree, Allegra will flourish in the position," Aeneas concurred with a grin that highlighted his dimpled chin. "So, is that all we needed to go over?"
"Well, mostly," I voiced as I slid a crisp, white envelope with 'Alexander Ramos' scripted neatly on the front across the expansive desk towards Aeneas. "All that's left to take care of is me making my next payment for Alexander's start-up investment," I said as nonchalantly as I could manage.
"Steph," Aeneas huffed, giving me a chastising are-we-really-doing-this-again look. "We've talked about this, Theíos (Greek: Uncle) Alexander would gladly sign the business over to you, as long as you agree to occasionally gracing him with your presence, preferably over a shared bottle of ouzo. There's no need for you to buy what is already yours," he explained tiredly.
"Aeneas, I have to do this the right way. Please," I implored, using the full gamut of my arsenal, including a wide, slightly rheumy gaze.
Aeneas shook his head at my stubbornness and placed the envelope in his desk as I thought only $76,000 to go.
"Thanks, I know how you feel about this, but I appreciate that you're letting me do this my way." I gathered my portfolio and stood, holding my hand out for Aeneas to shake.
Aeneas shot me a quick smirk and shook my hand before walking around his desk to give me a hug. "So Steph, I was wondering, you feel like maybe getting some dinner this weekend?" Aeneas inquired with expertly feigned insouciance as he walked me towards the elevator with his hand hovering near the obsidian obi-belt that adorned my waist.
"You know, I always have the strongest sense of deja vu whenever we have one of our meetings," I sassed with an infectious smile that Aeneas mirrored.
"So, that's a no then," Aeneas interpreted.
"I'll see you in August, Mr. Vasiliou," I said primly as I stepped onto the sleek elevator, the reflective surfaces imbued with the crimson from my cable-knit sweater dress.
Aeneas just shook his head at me with his trademark boyish smile firmly in place, clearly amused by my antics as the elevator doors closed and whisked me back to the ornate, granite lobby.
SP POV - 07 APR 2015
"Come on raspberries, we have to get going to visit your Merry Man uncles!" My announcement was met with equally enthusiastic burbles from Serafina and Theo as I quickly scooped up everything I needed for my monthly meeting at RangeMan with Tank Sherman, the dark chocolate mountain of a man who ran the Trenton RangeMan location and headed to my Mazda CX-5. After stowing my attache with a custom w*ish emblem and the black with multicolored splotches deluxe diaper bag that was full to the point of bursting in the passenger seat, I set about getting the twins safely ensconced in their carseats. "Ready to go?" I asked as we finally headed to the sleek, understated 7-floor RangeMan building in central Trenton.
Luckily Serafina and Theo were content to amuse themselves for most of the drive, conversing in baby-talk that only they were privy to, playing with the stuffed animals I'd learned to leave stashed in the backseat and enjoying the view as I navigated us to the slightly intimidating black granite and heavily tinted bulletproof glass building on Haywood Avenue. "Now I know you two are excited to see Uncle Tank, Uncle Lester and Uncle Woody, because, well, who wouldn't be, but I need you to try to spread the love, okay raspberries?" I requested, sending them a quick, amused look. "Because we wouldn't want a repeat of last month, right? You hurt Uncle Hector's feelings and he challenged Uncle Woody on the mats and well, that never ends well." I took Serafina's gurgling laugh and Theo's spit-bubble blowing as acquiescence.
All of the Merry Men were surprisingly great with babies, although I suppose after witnessing a considerable amount of their skills including intimidating hardened criminals with just a look, identifying and eliminating threats under the radar and the oh so memorable 'redecorating' job where they ousted junkie squatters from an apartment building, I should stop underestimating them. Tank was great because the twins gave him another outlet for the doting affection he usually reserves for his cats and Lester Santos was another obvious choice as favorite uncle because he can't seem to keep himself from trying to charm people, regardless of age, though he tends to reserve his efforts for women who've barely cleared the age of consent. Beyond the two of them, the twins don't really play favorites, but last week Hector Santiago in all of his ex-gang banger glory was passed over for a game of airplane with Melvin 'Woody' Woodrow in part because he has a swoon-inducing drawl courtesy of his Texas roots and his 6'2" height which increases the pleasure of being carried and tossed through the air. Needless to say, Hector was not pleased.
Hopefully there'd be enough time for all the Merry Men to get their fill of Serafina and Theo, I thought as I used my key fob to open the underground parking garage gate and pulled into the spot right next the elevator that I suspect they kept open for me on the days they knew I was coming. I had just managed to wrestle the dual stroller open and seat the twins when a single chime indicated the elevator's arrival and I was immediately engulfed in a bear hug.
"Hey Beautiful!" Lester greeted me as he swung me around a few times before placing me on my stiletto-clad feet. "I came down to give you a hand," he announced as he grabbed my bags from the passenger seat and maneuvered the stroller into the elevator with me following.
Lester was the second in command of the Trenton RangeMan location and part of the core team of four that founded and owned RangeMan. He was in charge of wooing new clientele, public relations and strategizing various undertakings. I knew he could play the collected commando, but mostly I saw the guy that made sure I felt welcomed as part of the RangeMan family and was responsible for the great pranking war of 2012 that is to this day spoken of in awed, hushed tones.
Once the elevator started, he crouched his 6'4" muscular frame down in front of the stroller to greet the twins, shooting me a smirk and wink when he realized they were decked out in their RangeBaby finest: black cargo pants, black t-shirts with RangeMan stitched on them, black RangeMan caps and adorable, impossibly tiny black CAT boots. "Hey Theo, Serafina," he said, giving them high-fives, hugs and kisses, "we are gonna have a shi- tons," he corrected at my pointed glare, "I meant tons of fun while Mommy's stuck with boring Uncle Tank, okay?"
"Les," I exclaimed, pushing him in his stupidly muscled shoulder, "don't tell them Tank is boring! They're gonna start repeating things and their first words had better not be 'Tank's boring'!"
"Oh wow, you want me to lie to the babies?" he asked with a scandalized expression yielding an eye roll from me. "What would Santa think? Naughty, that's what," he answered with a salacious wink. "Besides Beautiful, I've already conferred with the monkeys and we've decided that they're first words will be 'Uncle Les is our favorite'!" he joked, springing up to snag me around the shoulders and ruffle my hair.
"Hey!" I lamented. Unfortunately, the twins' clapping and wide, toothy smiles undercut my annoyance. I reached over to smooth Serafina's hair and fix her cap back in place before we walked off the elevator onto the fifth floor, the main operations area for RangeMan. We took a quick detour into the control room to say hello to some of the guys and drop of the raspberries before I headed down the hall to Tank's office.
"Men, we have visitors!" Lester announced our arrival as the men who weren't currently monitor the security camera feeds came rushing over to greet me and the twins, although I suspect they were more excited about Serafina and Theo than me, which frankly, I totally understood.
Hector was quick to snatch Theo out of the stroller before coming up to me a giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Hola Estephanie! (Hi Stephanie)" he greeted me before conversing with Theo in rapid Spanish. Hector was easily the most intimidating RangeMan employee in Trenton. He stood at a very lean 5'6", sported two teardrop tattoos from his days with the Latin Kings and, per rumor, could get very creative with knives. And in my experience, he was also incredible caring, gentle and protective.
I looked over at Serafina to see her engaged in a riveting game of peek-a-boo with Jeremy 'Cal' Callahan and the tri-colored flaming skull tattoo on his forehead, a souvenir from his time with the Navy. "Hey Cal, how's it going?" I asked as I stood behind him and gave him a quick hug.
"Oh you know, running searches for a case with the FBI and a few FTAs, the usual," he replied. An FTA, or failure to appear, identifies someone who didn't show up for their court date and was now in violation of their bail agreement. RangeMan worked with several bail bondsmen including Vincent Plum, my skeevy cousin with a penchant for fornicating with animals if the rumors are correct, and Les Sebring, who ran a considerably classier business. "The kids look good in RangeMan black."
"Yeah, we have Ella to thank for that. So, how's school going?" Cal had been taking classes to get his B.S. in psychology through online courses offered by Boston College for the past few years. "Are you excited for graduation? It's only another nine months now, huh?" I queried.
"Yeah, I've been working towards it for so long it seems a little surreal," he responded, picking Serafina up and tossing her in the air slightly shy of the three-foot limit we'd agreed upon after I freaked out on Lester several months prior.
"And Tank said he'd be changing up your assignments to cater more to your qualifications," I prodded, unable to curb my curiosity.
He nodded in response, "Yup, although I still have occasional monitor duty," he groused good-naturedly.
"Yeah, well. I doubt there's any escape from the mind and butt-numbing fun that is monitor duty," I chortled as he handed me Serafina, gave me a head nod as a good-bye and headed back to his desk. I was immediately surrounded by Vince, Junior and Slick clamoring for Serafina's attention. Slick was quickest, using the skills he honed during a misspent youth to sneak Serafina from my arms before I even noticed, smacked a kiss to my forehead and scooted away to play leaving me with Vince and Junior sporting matching disgruntled expressions.
"Hey Bombshell," Junior huffed, his wide shoulders sagging as he grabbed me in a quick hug followed by Vince. I had been given the moniker 'Bombshell Bounty Hunter' by an annoying reporter at the Trenton Daily after a few accidental explosions (which weren't really my fault, honest!) and the Merry Men enjoyed the story so much that they adopted it and I'd been referred to as 'Bombshell' by most of the Merry Men since. Charming, I know.
"Tell Hector to share, Bombshell! He's been hogging Theo since you guys got here," Vince groused with his thick arms crossed across his equally thick chest and a glower adorning his slightly Mediterranean features.
"And here I thought you guys were excited to see me!" I joked, nudging him with my shoulder. "So, what have you guys been up to lately? Are you still crushing on the Stella of Stella's Subs?"
"Actually, I asked her out a few weeks ago, it's going really well," Vince replied with a bright smile, ignoring Junior rolling his eyes at him.
"Yeah? That's awesome, I'm so excited for you!" I gushed, "So, did you take her to the restaurant I suggested?"
"Mhmm, you're right, she loved the dancing there, definitely impressed her," he replied with a smirk while Junior just laughed under his breath and shook his head.
"And what about you, Junior? Any lucky ladies on the horizon?"
"The only girl I wanna hang out with right now is Serafina who's being monopolized by Slick," Junior grumbled before answering my question. "Eh, I mean, I do alright. I'm more of a one and off guy though," he answered with a lascivious grin and a shrug as Hector returned with Theo.
"No seas como Tío Junior, Sí Téodoro (Don't be like Uncle Junior, okay Theodore)," Hector said to Theo who was comfortably cuddled into his chest. "Chica," Hector said to get my attention while he tapped on his watch, letting me know that I was in danger of running late for my meeting.
"Gracias (Thank you), Hector," I said as I grabbed my black leather attaché from Lester, smacked a quick kiss on the twins' cheeks and finger waved a quick bye to Hal, Binkie and Ram who were manning the monitors before I headed to the end of the floor and knocked on Tank's office door. After hearing a grunt indicating he wanted me to enter, I took an instinctive deep breath, straightened my black blazer and entered the large room with floor to ceiling windows overlooking Trenton that had been repurposed into Tank's office and fought the slight shiver I felt every time I walked in.
A/N: I've been having crazy uploading issues and for some reason I can't get the entire chapter saved into one document so this is the first half of Chapter 2 and the second part is in the official Chapter 3. I'll try to fix this and get both combined as soon as I can. Sorry for the confusion and delay.