“Did a stint in juvvie ‘cause of the skills I got to get us in,” Daisy answered.
I decided that I needed to discuss this with Daisy so she could teach me those skills, then she motioned to me.
“Good you’re here, sugar. I’m thinkin’ oatmeal. But I really like this gray. It says class to me. We want warm, but we want classy. We also want professional. It’s a difficult balance and the walls and carpet are the foundation so we gotta get it right.”
I looked down at her adjusting her carpet samples then I looked through the space and that feeling swept through me again. The good one. The excited one.
The happy one.
Two offices along the back, both with room-length windows to the outside, and both had windowed walls facing reception. The conference room down one side, also with a glass wall facing reception. An opened door sharing a wall with the outside hall and one with the conference room that I could see was a small kitchenette, which could take a little fridge and a coffee pot. It also had a small sink.
Perfect.
Utterly.
“Ally?” Daisy called.
“No oatmeal,” Shirleen said before I could answer Daisy. “Beige,” she stated, ripping off a paint chip with six shades of beige on it. “That’s the only thing that goes with oatmeal.” She tossed the paint chip over her shoulder and it fluttered to the floor. “Boring,” she went on and ripped another paint chip off, this one more shades of beige, sent it sailing and decreed. “No.” Again with the paint chips, one (beige again), two (greens), three (blues), four (grays), as she repeated, “No, no, no, no.”
Daisy was waving her hands around her head fending off the raining paint chips, snapping, “Shirleen, quit throwin’ them chips. You’re gonna give me a paper cut.”
“Sweet ‘ums!” Ralphie squealed, making an excited approach then reaching in and clasping his fingers around my wrist.
He pulled my hand from Ren’s grasp and yanked me further in. As I gave a smile to Buddy, who was smiling back at me, Ralphie pushed me, adjusted me and stopped us facing the blank wall across from the inner offices.
He lifted his arms in front of him, hands up and fingers splayed wide, floated them out and stated in a weighty voice, “The Majestic.”
I turned my head to look at him. “The what?”
“The Majestic,” he repeated. “You must come to the gallery and see this painting we have. It’s perfect for this space. Utterly.”
“I’ve seen it, Ally,” Buddy called, and I looked over my shoulder at him. “It actually is.”
Ralphie moved away from me and snapped at Buddy with his fingers. “Give me your phone, sweets. I’m calling Sadie right now. She needs to close up, get over here and see this space. She’ll totally agree.”
Buddy zipped up the tape measure, reached to the back pocket of his jeans and asked, “Where’s your phone?”
Ralphie assumed a look that could only be described as aghast, dragged a hand down his side and asked, “Put a phone in my pocket and destroy this line?”
It had to be said, Ralphie, in fabulous skinny trousers and a tailored pink shirt, looked like he’d just stepped out of a GQ magazine. A phone would destroy that line.
He’d made a good call.
“I called Ralphie to get some interior design help,” Daisy said, and I looked to her to see she was gaining her feet.
She had also been hiding her outfit in her earlier position, and as it fully hit me, it took a while for it to process through my system so I didn’t hear her next words.
This was because she was wearing a jeans mini-skirt with a little poofy ruffle at the edge, a pink tank top that should get a medal for its act of heroism by stretching itself nearly to the limits in keeping her bosoms contained, a bolero vest that was edged in what looked like silver rope, and a hot pink, champion-boxer-wide, buckle-at-the back leather belt covered in rivets that formed the shapes of lassoes, wagon wheels and cowboy boots.
And, not to forget, her feet were encased in pink cowboy boots with wagon wheels stamped in the toe and lassoes decorating the sides.
A theme.
“Comprende?” she asked, and I focused on her face.
“What?”
“Ralphie is gonna help us decorate and get this place stylin’,” Daisy said to me. “I have office furniture catalogues that’ll be comin’ in the mail in a few days. I figure your office, the big one.” She waved behind her. “I’ll be out here.” She waved to her feet. “We’ll set up a desk and computer in there for Brody and Darius to use when they’re around.” She waved to the small office. “And obviously that’s the conference room,” she finished, tipping her platinum locks toward the conference room.