Room 1208 Read online

  Maggie took the empty seat between Samantha and Dan, the art director on their team. The three of them reported to Tim Mason, owner and Creative Director of the firm, a title he shared with Rob Pelham. Rob and Tim had started the agency located on the outskirts of Des Moines three years ago, both having come from a prestigious New York agency. It was a small agency with just under twenty employees at the moment, but it was beginning to grow since business had picked up within the last year. The copywriters and art directors reported to either Tim or Rob, each team responsible for different projects, but sometimes banding together to work on a larger account.

  There was a buzz of excitement in the air when Rob and Tim entered the room along with Mike Brosky, the agency’s top account manager. Rob began to speak before he reached the front of the room. Forty something, he had an energy and enthusiasm that was infectious, playing counterpoint to Tim’s more laidback demeanor. “Hey, gang, thanks for dropping everything on such short notice. I’m going to get right to the point. We have the opportunity to land a major national account. Major. If we get it, this will be our first client outside of our Midwest base. I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am about this. I’m really confident we can pull this off. Mike, tell us what you got.”

  Maggie’s pulse gave a little flutter as Mike strode to the front of the room. An Iowa native, born and raised on a corn farm, former college quarterback, tall, broad-shouldered with blond hair, blue eyes, square jaw and a captivating grin, he was the poster-boy for the All American male. He was the first guy she’d felt any real attraction to since…

  Focus, Maggie. Now’s not the time to go there.

  “Like Rob said, this is major, people. It literally fell into our laps. The CEO of this company came across our Goldfinch Beer ad while he was on business in Chicago last week. He liked what he saw and had his CMO track us down. Based on that ad alone, we’ve been selected to pitch our ideas to them. Only two other agencies are in the running. So, before I go any further…” He started clapping his hands. “Major kudos to Maggie and Team Tim for putting the Goldfinch campaign together in the first place.”

  Damn her propensity to blush! Maggie grinned, sharing high fives with Dan and Samantha but avoiding looking directly at Mike as she felt heat spreading across her face. Rob and Tim both came over to slap her on the back. Mike even gave a wolf whistle.

  “So, who’s the potential client, Mike?” The loud voice, carrying an undertone of whatever, let’s move along, sliced through the commotion.

  Maggie shared an eye roll with Samantha before swiveling her chair around to look at Kayla Polson who was sitting directly across the table from them, giving them an evil eye that she quickly masked when Mike looked in her direction. Kayla was their counterpart on Team Rob. She’d been snide and rude to Maggie since Maggie’s first day on the job, and Maggie still didn’t know why, in spite of several attempts to make nice. She’d eventually given up. Some battles just weren’t worth fighting.

  Mike couldn’t tamp down his boyish grin. “Ever hear of Jagz Vodka?”

  There was a moment of silence before Dan said, “You’re shitting me.”

  A few people in the room, the non-drinkers, Maggie guessed, looked confused. Someone said, “Who?”

  Emily, the fresh out of college receptionist who was enthusiastically vocal about her weekend club outings and celebrity crushes, rolled her eyes. “It’s only one of the hottest vodka brands in the country, dumbass. The A-listers love it. Adam Levine had it served exclusively at his last birthday party.”

  “Who’s Adam Levine?”

  Emily threw her pencil at the jokester.

  “They’ve had a pretty decent campaign running for a while as I recall,” Samantha said. “What do they want to change?”

  “We have a video conference call scheduled with their CMO this afternoon to get the full briefing,” Mike answered. “In a nutshell, they’re now ready to expand the brand internationally and target a more sophisticated, upscale demographic. Their brand is hot with the young celebrity crowd as Emily so graciously pointed out,” this with a wink at Emily, “but they want to become one of the top three vodkas in the world.”

  Dan whistled. “No small task.”

  Tim, who’d been standing quietly in the corner, stepped forward. “No, it isn’t. And the kicker is we have to come up with our concept and pitch by next Wednesday. We’re a last minute entry in the bidding process. They’d set that deadline a month ago.”

  “That’s just one week away!” John, one of the copywriters on Team Rob said with a groan. The room grew noisy with sounds of agreement and muttered side conversations.

  Rob clapped his hands together. “OK, people, listen up. Drop whatever projects you’re working on now. Jagz is priority number one. We’re going to have to work over the weekend and pull some all-nighters to meet the deadline. I want both teams back here at three o’clock for the conference call. In the meantime, dig up everything you can on Jagz Vodka, its parent company, its previous ad campaigns, etcetera, etcetera.”

  “Do we know who will be on the call from their side?” Kayla asked as everyone began rising from their seats.

  “Sean Bannister is the CMO,” Mike replied. “It will just be him and some of his marketing team, I believe. Jason Armitage is the CEO of Jagz Enterprises. This is just one of several businesses that he owns. I’m not sure how hands on he’ll be with this project so I doubt he’ll be on the call.”

  “Hey, Mags, thanks again for your work on the Goldfinch ad. If we land this Jagz deal, I owe you big time.”

  Maggie blushed. “It was a team effort, Mike. But thanks, I appreciate your kind words.”

  “I really like that color on you by the way.” With a cocky grin and a wave he walked away.

  “Tell me he did not just hit on you,” Samantha whispered.

  “I think that was a definite hit,” Dan confirmed. “Though I’m not sure if he was talking about the color of your face or your dress.”

  Samantha laughed. “If you blush any harder, Mags, your face will match your hair.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “Knock it off, guys. We’ve got a ton of work to do before the call.”

  They both smirked like a pair of matching bookends.

  “Seriously, you two? I’m sure he has a girlfriend already. Besides, I don’t think it’s a good idea to get involved with a work colleague.”

  “Why not?” Dan countered. “I spend more time in this building with you two than I do at home. How many times have we all slept together in this very room?”

  “There’s sleeping together and there’s sleeping together, Danny boy,” Samantha retorted, flicking his temple with one turquoise-lacquered fingernail. “And the only way you’re going to achieve the latter is in your dreams.”

  “Come on, Sammy, you know you want it. I’ve seen the way you ogle my ass.”

  “Only because I still can’t figure out how you manage to fit that big ass in such tight jeans.”

  “Are you saying these jeans make my ass look big?” Dan’s tone was half serious.

  “Are you sure you’re not gay?”

  Emily stalked into the room on her six-inch heels and slapped a manila folder on the table. “Here are all the deets I could find on the executive officers. Couldn’t find any pictures of them, though. The corporate website is pretty discreet and none of them have a social media presence, just what comes from their PR firm.”

  Maggie wrote DISCREET on her notepad in big block letters.

  Emily snapped her chewing gum as Dan started thumbing through the folder. “Anything else?” She asked in a bored tone. “Kayla’s pissed off that I was working on this instead of her project.”

  “Kayla’s always pissed off,” Samantha muttered. “That girl seriously needs to get laid.”

  Maggie barely managed not to snort. “Give her a copy of this material. We’re all on the same team here.”

  “Already done.” Emily flipped her hair and sashayed out of the room.<
br />
  “Oh, to be twenty-three again,” Dan said with a lusty sigh, watching her hip-swaying retreat.

  LUST joined the growing column of words on Maggie’s notepad.

  “No, thanks, I am so done with my twenties,” Samantha said. “I cannot wait to be thirty. Two more weeks to go and Vegas here I come, baby.”

  “I don’t remember much of my thirtieth birthday other than a bottle of JD and a bong being involved. How about you, Maggie?”

  Maggie kept her eyes on her notepad. “I was out of town. My thirtieth birthday was the week before I started working here.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Samantha pried. “Did you go somewhere fun?”

  “Chicago.”

  “She’s blushing again,” Dan stage-whispered. “Come on, Mags, fess up. You got laid on your birthday, didn’t you.”

  Oh, lord in heaven. Leave it to Dan to get it right in one. “No, not that it’s any of your business. One of my friends is an event manager. She asked me to come with her at the last minute to help with a conference. We were both going to stay an extra night at the hotel and go celebrate, but her boyfriend showed up to surprise her and I was stuck on my own.” This was mostly true. The rest of the story would stay buried deep in her heart.

  “Huh, some friend.” Samantha sneered in sisterly commiseration.

  “So, you went and painted the town red anyway, I hope?” Dan chortled. “You did, didn’t you? Look at her face, Sam.”

  Maggie narrowed her eyes at him. “You know that saying ‘what goes on the road, stays on the road,’ Danny boy? Now seriously, guys. We only have an hour before the call. Get those pencils moving.”

  Dan gave one final snicker that turned into a yelp when Samantha kicked him under the table.

  Maggie took a deep breath, struggling to calm her thoughts. As her eyes refocused on the note pad she realized what she’d written at the bottom of the column, written and traced over repeatedly, underlined and encircled:

  ROOM 1208.

  That evening found Maggie sitting on her plush sofa in her living room, a glass of red wine in one hand and her notepad resting on her knee. The video conference call had gone well. Sean Bannister, a seemingly affable teddy bear kind of man in his fifties, had clearly expressed which direction he wanted the Jagz Vodka brand to take, and his goals almost perfectly aligned with the ideas that had been churning in Maggie’s head since the internal team meeting.

  Classy, Playful, Intriguing, Polished, Exclusive, Tasteful, Sexy, Discreet. Disparate words that could blend together in a unique way, yet she found herself unable to concentrate on exactly how. Her eyes kept going back to the letters and numbers she’d circled over and over until she’d torn a hole in the page. Room 1208. Heaving a sigh, she tossed the notepad on the coffee table and gulped down the rest of the wine before lying down and closing her eyes.

  Rachel.

  He’d said nothing more, just that name, before sliding off of her and sinking into a deep, sated sleep.

  She’d lain there, numb with shock and devastation—a devastation that, upon later reflection, had been staggering in its power and finality. Because in those brief moments between their last coupling and his speaking that name she’d decided to tell him everything. All of her instincts had convinced her that those few glorious hours they’d shared had been magical and unique. There’d been more between them than just the lust and mystery and heat of a one night stand, something more than two strangers simply using each other to get off.

  He’d wanted to know her name. He’d insinuated that he wanted to see her again, regardless of where they both lived. When she closed her eyes she still saw the intensity of his gaze, felt the possessive strength of his arms around her, his gentle, tender caresses that were all the more sweetly profound given that strength.

  Rachel. One word, one name, had shattered her blossoming dream. He’d said he wasn’t married, that he wasn’t seeing anyone. And she’d believed him. Yet there was no wedding ring on his finger, no differentiation of color or imprint on the skin to indicate he wore one. Fresh doubt had assailed her as she’d watched him sleep.

  Whoever Rachel was, he loved her. There’d been no mistaking the depth of emotion in his voice, the veneration, the…guilt. Jealously, bitterness and a reciprocal guilt had clawed at Maggie, bringing tears to her eyes. She’d moved carefully off the bed, afraid to wake him, afraid to see the acknowledgement of betrayal in his eyes.

  She’d dressed quickly without taking time to shower. After gathering her things and doing one final sweep of the room, she’d quietly unlocked the door and closed it softly behind her. She’d barely kept her tears at bay during the five hour drive back to Des Moines, only yielding to them once she was back in her own home where she could sit on her shower floor under a hot spray of water, head bent over knees that were clutched tightly to her chest, until the water ran cold.

  For the next two days she’d allowed herself to wallow. During one of her first therapy sessions with Dr. Moira she’d learned just how unhealthy it was to suppress her emotions. Sitting on the shower floor, she’d thought back to the first time in therapy when she’d given a primal scream, a scream that opened the doors to all the pain, sadness and anger that had enchained her life until that point. That memory brought some comfort. What had happened in Room 1208 was nothing in comparison to the culmination of her life’s sorrows.

  And what had happened that night, really? She’d finally lost—no, given—her virginity to a man who couldn’t have treated her in a more passionate, tender and considerate way. The experience had been more beautiful and sensual than she could ever have imagined. That he’d treated her with such care without knowing the gift she was giving him made the memory even more special.

  That was the memory she clung to. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel guilty for being party to his betrayal of Rachel, whoever she was. Despite that betrayal, he was the man who had unknowingly helped her jump over the last hurdle that stood between her past and her present. And, for that, she could only be grateful.

  Dr. Moira had immediately sensed a change in Maggie at their session following Maggie’s return from Chicago. “You’re ready,” was all she’d said.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Ready to begin a new, exciting job with a fast-paced, energetic advertising agency, ready to post her profile on an online dating service, ready to begin making new friends, ready to fully embrace the new Maggie. Oh, the old Maggie was still there, tucked in a special place in her heart. Dr. Moira had taught her to love that Maggie, to forgive her for things that were, ultimately, not her fault. That Maggie would always be with her as she made her way through the world.

  But sometimes…

  Maggie rose from the sofa and walked upstairs to her bedroom. She paused in front of the bureau, avoiding her own reflection in the mirror above. Opening the top drawer, she reached to the back corner and pulled out a rolled up ball of white lace underwear. Unraveling it, she pressed it to her nose, smelling him, smelling the faint but still heady mixture of their blended passion. This was the only tangible evidence she had of their night together, the only piece she had of him.

  Him. Who was he? Where was he? In a country of over three hundred million people the likelihood of ever seeing him again was virtually impossible. She pushed the underwear back into the drawer. She thought of Mike Brosky and his teasing grin. She thought of hot, wet kisses and dark, secluded barrooms. An idea, the germ of which had been planted earlier that day, began to grow and take shape. Feeling a creative glow, she raced back to her notepad.

  “…and it concludes with the tagline: For the James Bond in All of Us.”

  There was a moment of silence before Rob laughed. “Amusing, but no. What else do you have?”

  John’s face turned slightly red, but he laughed along with everyone else gathered around the conference table as he continued reading through his ideas. It was nine o’clock the next morning, and the creative teams were meeting for their first brainstorming session for t
he Jagz campaign.

  Maggie recalled shaking in her shoes at her first such meeting at Pelham and Mason. The sensitive, eager-to-please girl inside of her hadn’t expected her brilliant—or so she thought—ideas to be ridiculed. But it’d taken just a few minutes to realize that teasing and laughter played a major part in Tim and Rob’s creative process. All ideas, good and bad, were noted on the whiteboard, but, unless the pitch was spot on, which was rare, no one was safe from mockery.

  Kayla interrupted John. “I thought it was a good idea. Who doesn’t love James Bond?”

  “That suave Daniel Craig look will definitely have some appeal with both men and women,” Tim conceded. “I just think it’s been done already.”

  “It’s practically a cliché for a vodka ad,” Dan agreed. “Shaken and not stirred and all that. We need something fresh.”

  Kayla pursed her lips with annoyance. “Yeah? So, what’s your big idea?”

  Samantha shared a look with Maggie and Dan before clearing her throat. “Looking at the current Jagz campaign, it’s easy to see why they’re appealing to that young celebrity and celebrity wannabe demographic.” She slid a ripped out magazine page to the center of the table. “We see a bunch of twenty somethings partying in what appears to be a Vegas nightclub, VIP velvet ropes, lots of tits and ass, flash and bling.”

  “Cool,” Emily said from where she stood at the whiteboard working on the mind map.

  “Exactly,” Dan agreed. “But say you’re a business man or woman, tired from a long day on the road or a slew of meetings, just wanting to sit in a quiet, classy bar and have a drink—that one drink that’s going to soothe your weary soul, mellow out your day, remind you that you worked hard and deserve something special, maybe something unexpected.”

  While he’d been speaking, Maggie had risen from her chair to stand next to the covered easel the three of them had placed there a few minutes before the meeting. Now she uncovered the first series of sketches Dan and his design team had hurriedly put together earlier that morning. She waited until everyone had a chance to view the storyboard then said, “Jagz Vodka...Expect the Unexpected.”