I searched Ari’s face, as tears glossed her brown skin. I didn’t understand any of this. I couldn’t read between these cryptic lines. I reached out to wipe a tear, but Ari stepped back.
“Baby…please. Talk to me.”
Ari began to gather her things, not bothering to look up. “Porter, you and I are over. This isn’t going to work. It never was. After this presentation Monday, we can pretend that this never happened.” I watched as Ari pulled on her winter coat and hat, grabbed her tote, and walked out of the door.
I stood in the middle of my kitchen, the thrum of the slamming door still reverberating in my ears. What was that? I ran through every scenario in my head, trying to place where I made a misstep. Did I say something to her? We were all good this morning. And now, our relationship had disintegrated into a pile of ash, burned by the flame of her words.
I looked down at the birria tacos on the counter. The brown bag was now layered with a cold, oily sheen.
I picked it up and tossed it in the trash.
Chapter Thirty
Porter
Greer tugged at his cuff links, agitated. “I understand your frustration. But just think about the maximized use of space. And if you look here…”
Greer and Jacobi were bombing. Their design seemed devoid of anything that the Serrano Group had specified. Hell, it was lacking anything Jacobi had contributed from earlier designs. Instead, it was Greer’s arrogant attempt at showing everyone that he knew better than they did. It wasn’t going over well.
Paulo Serrano held up his hand. “Mr. Greer. We’ve seen enough.” With a frown, Paulo turned to his older brother Marco, who sported the darkest aviator shades known to man, and spoke in whispered tones. The tension was thick in the boardroom crowded with junior associates and the Serranos’ large entourage.
At the head of the boardroom table, Riddle and Robinson flanked both sides of the Serrano men, respectively. Marco rattled off some choice words in Spanish, the only one I could understand was “basura.” Riddle seemed skittish, something I never had seen in him before. Robinson had his usual cool, aloof demeanor as he tapped away on his smartphone. After a peek at his watch, Riddle nodded. “Mr. Harrison. Ms. James. I think you should probably begin.”
I passed out notes as Ari gave a brief introduction, talking about our design aesthetic and our direction. She stood next to me, wearing a simple black shift dress and heels, her hair back in a tight bun reminiscent of her first day at R&R. I willed my eyes to focus on the monitor because Ari looked so damn good that it was hard to focus. It had been a week since she’d called things off. It felt like an eternity. As she pulled up the design on the computer, I sat back down. I shifted a few times in my seat as her hips were parallel to my face. My twitching dick was being signaled by my brain. To think we’ve had the pleasure of seeing this woman naked. Those hips were on top of us. I moved my eyes down to my notes, willing my penis to behave itself. Now wasn’t the time. But dear God, I missed her.
As Ari pulled up her laptop to connect to the larger screen at the head of the boardroom, images flickered. A look of panic came across Ari’s face. I jumped up.
I leaned close to her. “You okay?”
“Not this shit again,” Ari whispered.
My eyes widened. “It’s probably a glitch. Don’t worry.”
Just as Ari was about to speak, we heard a collective gasp from the audience, and then claps. We both looked at the screen as our images came up. My heart finally slowed down to a normal beat.
“See, it’s all good,” I whispered to Ari.
Ari nodded curtly. Assured that everything was fine, we proceeded with our presentation. We kept the idea for functional gardens and green space, including suites that included Mediterranean inspired terraces. Ari’s final version of the fan experience, complete with what would be the largest outdoor screen in major league soccer, received many nods of approval. I looked over at the Serrano team for some sign of approval. They were nodding their heads. Even Marco was taking notes.
Once we concluded, the boardroom was so quiet you could hear a mouse piss on cotton. We sat in our seats, waiting with bated breath for some type of decision. My mind was all over the place. I wanted this over with.
Paulo Serrano sat in his chair, whispering to his assistant, who nodded and spoke rapid Spanish. After a few minutes of his assistant taking notes, Paulo cleared his throat and began. “We both appreciated the hard work each team brought to the design of this stadium. I appreciated the options presented. For us, soccer is a passion. It is a sport that shows the heart and humanity of people. It is a sport whose emphasis on teamwork is at its core. For that reason, we picked the team whose design had heart and passion, who clearly valued teamwork and our principles. For them, it was a labor of love. So, congratulations to Mr. Harrison and Ms. James. We will move forward with your design.”