Paris Is Always a Good Idea - Jenn McKinlay Page 0,38
eye for months. “Honestly, do men really not know what’s entailed in a mammogram?”
“Well, I do now,” Knightley said. His voice sounded strangled, and he lost the battle and started laughing. Looking back on that unfortunate day, I really couldn’t blame him. I must have made quite the picture. I wasn’t sure who had been more horrified—me, the technician, or Knightley. I snorted, almost laughed, but then frowned.
“We lost twenty-five thousand dollars on your big idea because of your lack of proper planning and communication skills. The videos that you did manage to produce were . . . not good.” I felt I should get points for not saying they were terrible. They really were.
“We were just doing a pilot. I still say Overexposure Media Group could have taken that rapping video idea and run with it,” he said.
“Instead, they ran away from it.”
“Brutal.”
I sighed. I wasn’t trying to bust him down, truly. Although I was still mad about the Overexposure Media Group debacle. Knightley was imaginative, and his team had come up with some terrific campaigns, but Severin’s was just too big to treat lightly. Still, we were stuck working together. I glanced at his face and asked, “Okay, Knightley, what would you do to engage Severin?”
He immediately perked up. “Play to the company’s strengths,” he said.
“Such as?” I leaned toward the mirror as I used the wand to apply my mascara. I pressed my tongue to my upper lip as I concentrated on coating each lash.
“They’re a robotics company,” he said.
“Um. No duh.”
“BattleBots!” he yelled, and I stabbed myself in the eye with my mascara wand.
“Ow!” I blinked and put the side of my finger under my lashes so I wouldn’t smudge my makeup again. “Damn it! Really, Knightley? Really?”
“Sorry,” he said. “But I get excited thinking about it. This could be huge. Company-wide robots battling for domination. It could raise money for charity by having people sponsor their favorite bot, which could cause a social media frenzy as we livestream the battles built by different departments in the company.”
“How do you figure? Isn’t it just tech nerds who enjoy that stuff?”
He didn’t say anything, and I glanced at my phone again. He looked offended. “Tech nerds? I’ll have you know I was the captain of my robotics team in college.”
“Of course you were,” I said. Then I snorted.
“And I was cool,” he insisted.
“If you say so.” I shrugged. A small smile curved my lips as I reached for my lipstick, which just happened to be in a deep red that matched my sweater, not cherry red but close. I made my lips into an O and slid the creamy color first over my top lip and then over the bottom, then I grabbed a tissue and blotted them, making a pucker in the mirror and then smiling to make sure the shade complemented me but didn’t get on my teeth. It was perfect.
I turned back to my phone to find Jason staring at me as if he was actually enjoying looking at me, a first. “Good choice, Martin. You look very . . . nice.”
“Nice?” I raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, Knightley. Very nice was exactly what I was going for.”
“You look good, Martin, and you know it,” he said. “I’m not going to tell you that you’re a heart attack in red, or it’ll go to your head and there’ll be no working with you.”
“Thank you,” I said. I felt my face get a little warm at the compliment, and I smiled. It was the first time I’d ever actually smiled at him with anything other than malice.
He blinked. Then he frowned. “Just who is it that you’re going on this date with?”
“None of your business.”
“Does anyone know you’re going?”
“Yes, the person I’m going with.”
“Martin, you’re alone in a foreign country,” he said. “What if the guy is a serial killer or a rapist or a drunk?”
I laughed. “He’s not. He’s an old friend, and we’re getting together for dinner. There’s no need to worry.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You sound worried.”
“Nope, not me,” he said. “But Aidan might be when I tell him you’re on a date.”
“Aidan doesn’t worry about anything,” I said. “He believes in the power of the universe. Speaking of Aidan, how is he?”
“He believes in the power of the universe,” Jason said, repeating my words as an answer, and I laughed. “He seems all right. He’s signing on for a fairly aggressive treatment. The toughest part will likely be losing his hair.”