by Zahra Barnes
“Heroin?!
Tessa. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Marley stared at me, her
mouth agape. We were at a cafe before I had my first interview with Savannah,
who had finally gotten back to me.
“Not just
heroin.”
I
held up a finger and corrected Marley. “Everything. Pills. Uppers.
Downers. Sideway-ers, if those exist. Celine said when she was keeping track,
she was mainly snorting heroin and taking prescription pills. Klonopin.
Adderall. Whatever she could get her hands on, sometimes with coke mixed in.
But then she’d lose track and just…take whatever. I still can’t
believe it.”
“She’s so
tiny. How did she not overdose? Jesus Christ.”
“By the
grace of God, according to her mother. It’s seriously the craziest
story. I guess I shouldn’t say that, because it’s really sad. But, I mean.
Just listen.” I leaned forward and cupped my hands around my
intimidatingly large coffee. If Marian had taught me anything, it was the value
of a few extra shots of espresso on an important day. “So you
know how Celine’s a fashion designer? Her parents had been bankrolling all
of it. Her rent, the material for her designs, everything. She always made it
sound like they were basically paying her to stay out of their lives, but I
think they just tried to shower her with money as a way to prove how much they
cared. When Celine was a senior at boarding school, she got kicked out because
her headmaster found her drugged out of her mind in his office, of all places.
Apparently she’d broken in on a dare, so her parents sent her to a rehab
in Utah. She got clean, got her GED, then moved here. At first it seemed like
her fashion line was getting off the ground, but it all just started falling
apart over the past few months. It was easy to start using again, because it’s not
exactly hard to find drugs when you’re in fashion.”
“Yeah,
but hard drugs like that? I mean, sure, everyone in fashion does coke. But that’s
glamorous, you know? Not mixing freaking heroin and pills in a drug den
downtown,”
Marley
said. “Calling
it glamorous isn’t right, but you know what I mean.”
“I know.
I thought Celine was hiding those pills that I found behind the drawers in her
vanity, but it turns out they’d fallen and she assumed
she’d just
taken them and not remembered. She went out to get high, and that’s where
we found her. So far gone,” I said.
I
shook my head, remembering how Celine had shivered and cried when we got her
into the apartment, snot running down her face, screaming that she was fine in
one breath and hissing at us to fuck off in the next. Even when Celine was
across the room, Bette jolted violently with each one of her howls, like Celine
had stabbed her and was twisting the knife. And in a way, I guess she was.
“What’s going
to happen to her now?”
“Her mom
took her back to France this morning. 90-day rehab. She said she would have
chosen one in the United States, but she didn’t trust
that things would be OK if she weren’t close by. So Celine’s going
to some place in the countryside, and her mom said she’s going
to rent a place near the property.” When Bette had announced
this, Celine finally stopped spitting like an angry cat and curled into her mom’s lap,
blinking as tears streaked silently down her face and dampened Bette’s skirt.
She looked like a child, which was who she really was deep down. A child who,
unsure of her parents’ love, tried to find relief from her insecurities at the
bottom of a pill bottle.
“Wow.”
“I know.
And, this part is almost crazier: Bette’s paying Celine’s rent
while she’s away.
She says after everything Celine put me through, it’s the
least they could do until Celine’s lease is up.”
When
Celine finally admitted that she sold my watch, Bette’s face
had collapsed in on itself. After discovering that seeing Celine steal my money
been the final straw that caused me to move into Jack’s, she’d
insisted on honoring Celine’s lease. “Then I
can get a new roommate. It seems like Celine’s
staying in France for a while even after she’s done.”
Again,
Marley’s mouth
hung open. “These people are loaded. Can I get in on some of that
French money, si’l vous plait?”
I
laughed at her awful accent. “You want real proof of how
rich they are? Guess how Celine’s mom found me?”
Marley’s eyes
became saucer-like in anticipation of the bomb I was about to drop. “How?”
she
whispered, grabbing my hand. There was nothing more gratifying than telling
Marley a good story; she always played the role of captivated audience member
perfectly.
“She
hired a private investigator. He tracked me down pretty much immediately, which
is good because I’m sure he costs like $500 an hour. Jack was pretty freaked
out that some guy trailed me to his place.”
“If you
were in any other situation, it would be so creepy. But a determined mom is a
determined mom in any language, you know? Good for her.”
“Definitely.
I would have just sent a message on Facebook, but I don’t think
Bette even knows what Facebook is.” I tapped my phone to check
the time. I only had a few minutes left to make it up to Savannah’s office
at a comfortable pace.
“So,
listen, I can’t get you any of that French money. But I can promise you
Celine’s room
when her lease is done, if you want it. It’s less expensive than your
place, and I know things aren’t going well with your
roommate—”
“Of
course I want it!” Marley shrieked, interrupting me. “Are you serious?
We’re going
to live together, just like God intended? Are you ready for this?”
She
reached across the table and threw her arms around me.
“I’m
actually not sure I am.” I laughed and squeezed her, rocked with a surge of
gratitude for my friend who had been there through the Grant, Liv, and now
Celine debacles. “Listen, I’ve got to get to my
interview. I’ll let you know how it goes.” I stood
up and drained the rest of my coffee.
“Good
luck!”
Marley
leaned over and pinched my butt so hard I was sure it would leave a bruise that
I’d need
to explain to Jack. I yelped and grabbed my left cheek, which was clad in a
pair of wide-legged black pants that almost verged on man repeller territory,
but in what I hoped was a fashionable way. Combined with a structured white top
and my new earrings, I felt ready.
I
walked a few doors down from the cafe to the sleek behemoth that was One World
Trade, where the security guards checked my bag and sent me on up. Once I
exited the elevators, I called Savannah then waited by the glass doors for her
to get me. Minutes passed, and I went to check my phone to see exactly how long
I’d been
waiting. Hold on, I thought. What if this is a test? What if she has
cameras out here and she’s trying
to see how well I handle this kind of situation? My
paranoid mind ran with the thought, and I left my phone in my bag untouched.
Finally,
Savannah came to the door. “Tessa, hi,”
she
said. She smiled warmly, her long nose and hollow cheeks giving her something
of a birdlike effect in the building’s bright light. “Come on
in.”
I
followed her down the hallway and, weirdly, didn’t see a
single person on the way.
“Thank
you for coming in,” Savannah said as we walked into her office. She smoothed
out her skirt and settled behind her desk.
“Of
course! Thanks for inviting me,” I responded. I still had no
idea what I was there for. When Savannah had finally emailed me back, she’d only
asked if I was free to meet at 3:00 p.m. the next day. I’d
responded that yes, I was, and asked if she had any information about the
company she could share so that I could prepare. She’d only
responded with the address of the office and a quick “Ask for
me. See you then.” So, there I was, utterly clueless.
The
Hudson River winked behind Savannah, who’d apparently scored a
clutch office overlooking the liquid expanse, which stretched out until it
collided with the buildings on the horizon. They looked tiny enough to pocket.
The view was awe-inspiring, but the flowers were what really caught my eye. A
lush bouquet graced Savannah’s desk, teeming with
prettiness. Its heady scent perfumed the air, combining with my nerves and
making me a little woozy.
“I couldn’t not
ask you in after seeing what you did to those flowers at STK. It was like you
gravitated toward them,” Savannah said. She ran a hand through her hair and smiled
encouragingly.
“I guess
I did! They were so pretty, but they looked a little off-kilter. Like I
mentioned before, I loved choosing the flowers for events at my last job. The
habit must have stuck.”
Savannah
nodded. “Tell me
about that. Your last job.”
Well,
shit. I’d
prepared for this, and I knew what to say. Still, I felt completely transparent
as I pasted on a smile and said what I’d practiced. “I
planned events for Grey & Boehm, a gallery in Chelsea, where I helped put
on different exhibitions and openings. I worked on a small team, and as we got
busier, I ended up making some mistakes because of the increasing workload. I
learned so much about how to communicate in that kind of workplace and how to
make sure everyone on the team is on the same page about who’s doing
what, so I know I won’t find myself in that situation again.”
She
cocked her head. “So you were let go?”
I
felt sick to my stomach, but forced myself to meet her eyes. “I was.
And like I said, I learned so much from it that was almost a blessing in
disguise. I know the experience has made me a better employee than I was
before.”
Savannah
was silent, as anyone would be when trying to suss out if someone who got
thrown out from a job on her ass was telling the truth.
“I know,”
she
said simply.
My
fingers tingled from the tension. “Sorry?”
“I know
that you got fired. I looked you up and saw you worked at Grey & Boehm. I
have a lot of friends in the art industry. You certainly made a splash.”
Heat
rose to my cheeks and my mouth went dry, making my tongue feel clumsy and twice
its size. “Well,”
I
finally said, “I did always love to swim.”
Savannah
burst out laughing. “You just passed your first test. If you’d lied,
this interview would have been over. You’re honest. I like that.
Listen, we all make mistakes. I’ve always said everyone
should get fired once. If I hadn't gotten fired from what I thought was my
dream job years ago, I wouldn't have been on track for my actual dream job,
which is this one. ”
I
exhaled. I’d
passed. But she’d also said it was my first test, as in, there would be
more than one.
“Tell me
a little more about what you did at Grey & Boehm,”
said
Savannah.
This,
I was ready for. Even though I’d had no idea what the job
would be, I put together a portfolio of materials I’d
created for various events throughout the years, making sure to include some
floral arrangements in the mix. I swiped through the pages on my iPad, proving
that, yes, I may have been fired, but I’d done good work.
“Nice.”
Savannah
nodded, seemingly satisfied. “So, you’ve sold me on you a little bit. Now let me sell you on us.
I can tell you’re resourceful. Do you know what we do?”
I
had to admit I didn’t. “I searched like crazy, but nothing came up. Whatever you’ve got
going on here seems like it’s under lock and key.”
“That’s
because it is, for now anyway.” She waved a hand, gesturing
around the office. “This, Tessa, is Bloom. We deal in flowers. Specifically, in
the most beautiful arrangements possible for any event, big or small, as long
as the client is willing to pay for our customization. Our founder Dee and I
worked in fashion and beauty before this. We climbed the ladders, did some
schmoozing, and now we have a long list of companies that are ready to call on
us the moment they have an event. That’s loyalty for you.”
She
winked at me, and I marveled at her skin. She’d gotten
far enough to have some kind of major industry pull, so she had to be at least
30, or maybe 35, unless she’d been some sort of prodigy. She was Gwyneth levels of glowy.
“Dee’s more
your typical businesswoman, so she’s handling a lot of that. I’m doing
most of the hiring and getting our social media off the ground until we find
someone to do it, then I’ll help Dee oversee things beyond the business aspect. We
invested our own money in this, so we’re eager to see it go well.
Got it?”
I
nodded, my stomach jumping in anticipation.
“Good.
Follow me.”
Savannah
pushed herself back from her desk and strode out the door. I jumped to my feet
and thanked my lucky stars I’d worn
shoes with sturdy enough heels to keep up without wobbling.
“Our goal
is to craft the most stunning floral arrangements for events, but we don’t want
to stop there. We want to truly have a hand in the success of the galas,
parties, and various launches that we’ll be hired to help
succeed. Tell me, what does this arrangement say to you?”
We’d
stopped in front of a stone vase that came up to my hip, spilling over with a
tangle of gorgeous purple and white flowers, all wreathed in a spray of
delicate cream buds. I noticed small flowering cacti at the base, which struck
me as strange but somehow worked as a whole. I shot Savannah a nervous glance.
Was this a trick question? She looked back, a barely-there, curious smile set
on her crimson lips. I looked back at the arrangement.
“It’s wild,
definitely, but there are touches of refinement. I’d say it’s almost
dizzyingly romantic, but the rugged cacti keeps it from going overwhelmingly in
that direction.” I laughed, embarrassed by what I’d come
up with. “First
and foremost, it’s gorgeous. I should probably have led with that.”
Savannah
clapped excitedly. “No, you were exactly right! The amaryllis is pride, but the
calla lilies are modesty. There’s a fascinatingly dynamic
conflict between the two, and when you factor in the lilac and cacti, well,
their meanings just add to the whirlwind sense of romance. That’s where
the spines come in, to make things interesting and keep it from being one-note.
It’s all
about the language of flowers.”
I
looked back and forth between her and the vase, my mind processing what she was
saying. “You mean
you make arrangements based on the actual meaning of different flowers?”
She
nodded, beaming at me. “Yes. And it’s more fun than you could
even imagine.” She whipped around and kept walking, and I hurried to catch
up. She made a sharp right turn down a hallway, which was flanked by tall black
and white bar tables. Each table displayed one type of flower, clustered into
its own bursting bouquet.
“Lobelia
for malevolence, jasmine for attachment, aster for patience, the poor white
carnation, so maligned, for sweet and lovely,” she
listed, pointing at the corresponding groups of flowers as we passed by. “Dee and
I read about something similar in this book, The Language of Flowers. We
were just taken with the idea.”
“That’s
because it’s
brilliant,”
I
breathed. I felt something unfolding in me, stretching and making room for
something else that I couldn’t quite name.
She
grinned at me, tossing her hair. “We like to think so, too.”
She
pointed out a few more flowers, divulging their secret meanings, then we looped
back around to her office. “Come on in for just a few
more questions.”
She
kept going as soon as she sat. “The position we have open
now is in marketing. No official title yet, as that’s
something we want to decide with the person we choose. Marketing sounds different
from what you were doing before, but we’re going to be a small team
at first so you would have a direct hand in pretty much everything, including
planning events. Of course we have top experts in the field to consult about
the exact floral meanings, and we’ll have interns to actually
go to the flower market, although you would have to pitch in for both areas at
first. This position would really be about getting our name out there, whether
that’s
through events, campaigns, or whatever else would work. Does that sound like
something you would be interested in?”
“Absolutely,”
I
said as soon as she stopped talking. Suddenly, I wanted this job so badly I
felt the need clutch at my throat, making it hard to breathe. “I did so
much of that and Grey & Boehm and would love to do it for you, too. This is
an incredible idea that really has legs. It’s the
perfect mix of idealistic and innovative.”
“I’d agree
with you there. Perfect. OK, I want you to come up with a campaign package. Do
you think you can send it to me by Friday?”
“Definitely.”
Not
like I was doing too much else.
“Good.
The people who do the best will come in to meet with both me and Dee. I do have
to warn you that if you get the job, there would be a trial period of a month
since I can’t exactly go to your former boss for a reference. Unless
you think I can?”
I
thought about what Marian would say about me and had to stop from cringing. “A trial
period sounds more than fair,” I replied.
“Great.
Any questions for me?”
I
rattled off a few, mainly about what she was expecting from the campaign, then
told her that was all. I felt inspired and wanted to get to work before my
ideas snaked away from me.
“Well,
Tessa, thank you so much for coming in.” Savannah stood up and led
me out. “I know I
was a bit cloak and dagger in the beginning, with not telling you what this was
about. We just want to keep it very secret to get maximum impact when we go
public, rather than having information trickle around and dilute the effect.”
“I
completely understand. That’s really going to help me
shape the campaign, so I can’t wait to get to work on
it!”f
“Lovely.
Fantastic to meet you.” Savannah stuck out her hand, which I took and shook a few
times, mentally reminding myself not to crush it out of excitement.
“You too,
and thank you so much! I’ll talk to you soon.” I turned and headed into
the elevator, where I stood stock-still until the doors closed. Then I jumped
around, pumping my fists and wriggling like a five-year-old, finally releasing
all the pent up energy that had been building, surveillance cameras be damned.
For the first time in a while, it seemed like everything was coming up Tessa.
Have you ever read the book "The Language of Flowers" by Vanessa Diffenbaugh? It's pretty much exactly what you described; it's about a young girl who has a talent with flowers and eventually creates bouquets and arrangements based on what the flowers mean. Of course, a lot more happens and it's more complex than that but still, I was struck by the similarity of the idea! It's an amazing book and if you haven't read it, you definitely should!
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I hope things go well with Tessa and I'm sure she will get the job. That's crazy about Celine, but I love that Tessa and Marley can live together!
She mentioned the book by name as the inspiration behind the flowers in the blog. Lol
DeleteOh oops!!! I totally missed that part since I was skimming this at work. That's so exciting to me because I LOVED that book and didn't realize it was so popular!
DeleteWoot Woot! You go girl!
ReplyDeleteMaybe she'll move on after her rehab, but I wonder if this is really the last we've heard from Celine...
Interesting direction....I like it! mum
ReplyDeleteIdk why im having so much trouble getting into the story line...I keep trying week after week but it feels like I can't connect with the characters...
ReplyDeleteLove how this post addresses pretty much every critique of her last post! Geez, people, just wait for your questions to be answered!
ReplyDeleteThat or she saw it didn't line up and fixed it with this post
DeleteThis is what I don't like about this story. It is hard to believe it when it changes every week based on the readers' comments.
DeleteLove how career focused this post is!! Amazing
ReplyDeleteThank you for answering all the questions I had! It was super long, which I loved as well! Thanks!
ReplyDeleteI loved this post! So excited for Tessa
ReplyDeleteLoved this post! Great chunk to the story and it seems we will now be looking at the really creative side of the character. Can't wait for next week!
ReplyDeleteI love the abstract side of the beginnings of a new career for Tessa. My life was so structured, in my family it's graduate high school, go to college (and you better get a degree that is marketable, nursing for me) get a job with said degree, become financially independent, start a family. Or join the military. This is my upbringing and I used to naively think most people followed suit. I don't regret any of the decisions I made about my life, It's so awesome to see that Tessa's life most likely emulates most lives. I love that was focused on Tessa, not Tessa and Jack or Tessa and who ever else, just about her and of course closing the chapter of celine.
ReplyDelete*I love that this blog was focused on Tessa*
Delete
ReplyDeleteقصص سكس و صور نيك
قصص سكس و نيك
صور سكس و نيك
نيك اختي .... و لا اروع
قبول اختي سهام في الجامعة /محارم
الولد الشقى واخته وهى نايمه (احلى سكس )
عهد و اخيها انس قصة اخ واخته فى بلاد الغربة
هيثم وريم اختة
قصة الجناينى وست البيت
قصة اللص الذي سرق البيت واغتصب المرأه المتزوجه
ناك حبيبته المتزوجه فوق السطح
قصص سكس و صور نيك
قصص سكس و نيك
صور سكس و نيك
نيك اختي .... و لا اروع
قبول اختي سهام في الجامعة /محارم
الولد الشقى واخته وهى نايمه (احلى سكس )
عهد و اخيها انس قصة اخ واخته فى بلاد الغربة
هيثم وريم اختة
قصة الجناينى وست البيت
قصة اللص الذي سرق البيت واغتصب المرأه المتزوجه
ناك حبيبته المتزوجه فوق السطح
قصص سكس و صور نيك
قصص سكس و نيك
صور سكس و نيك
نيك اختي .... و لا اروع
قبول اختي سهام في الجامعة /محارم
الولد الشقى واخته وهى نايمه (احلى سكس )
عهد و اخيها انس قصة اخ واخته فى بلاد الغربة
هيثم وريم اختة
قصة الجناينى وست البيت
قصة اللص الذي سرق البيت واغتصب المرأه المتزوجه
ناك حبيبته المتزوجه فوق السطح