Just Say What You Mean
“Yeah.”
I’m almost hesitant to answer because I’m not sure why he’s suddenly wanting to talk about something from so long ago.
“Know where it is now?”
I think for a minute and seriously can’t recall that I’ve ever seen it again after he got it, so I shake my head.
“It’s in my bottom desk drawer at the office.”
“Why? Aren’t you proud of it?”
“It’s not about not being proud of it. I didn’t need it. I didn’t need it to know.”
I open my eyes, wide awake again. ‘Cause now it’s clear. He has to talk about this in the only way he can … as something else. I guess he’s not satisfied about our earlier conversation. Funny how he’s the one that keeps bringing up the subject of marriage this weekend and how much he doesn’t need it; makes me wonder who he’s trying to convince.
But regardless, I have to pay attention so I’ll know what it all means. Just like when I got him to take me back, I play along with ‘Mr. Kinney and his business talk’.
“To know what?”
“That I was successful, that I was the best and that Ryder valued me.”
“But getting that award is what told you that you’re the best.”
“No, it wasn’t. Getting the clients that I set out to get told me. Bringing money into the agency time after time. That’s what told me.”
Because he came home to me night after night, by three, because that’s what he wanted to do? That’s how I was supposed to know?
“But getting the award told everyone else.”
You know, it was an ego thing. I wanted to be special. At the time I did want everyone else to know, who I was, what I was.
“When did I ever give a fuck about what everyone else knows or thinks?”
I want to say, ‘All the time.’ But I don’t. Instead I say, “I guess what you know is what’s important.”
“Right.”
Of course, I see that now, but back then, I didn’t know. How could I know?
“So what you’re clients know or what they think doesn’t matter at all?”
“No, it doesn’t. Not as long as I give them what they are paying for. Give them what they need.”
But I wasn’t getting what I needed.
“What if you’re not giving them what they need?”
“Then they go somewhere else.”
I squeeze my eyes shut to dull out the sharp pain that just stabbed me in the heart. I knew he’d go there.
“And that’s okay with you?”
There’s a small quiver in my voice … I swallow and take a deep breath, a little unsure that I want to hear the answer.
“Of course not.” Thank god. I blow the air out in relief. “If they go somewhere else, then I don’t get what I need. Which is their money in my bank account.”
Or their voice whispering in your ear or their dirty clothes in your laundry or their laughter in your heart or their body in your bed or their dick in your mouth … there’s lots of things you don’t get. He brushes my hair off my face and flicks it between his fingers. Feels nice.
“So if you don’t need the award to convince them that you’re the best, then what? How do you make sure they don’t go somewhere else?”
“It’s the basic principle of advertising. It’s up to me to show people that what I can do for them is exactly what they need even though they may not realize it, because sometimes they just don’t know. That’s what it takes. Showing them what I have to offer and proving it’s the best thing for them, not some award sitting on a shelf collecting dust. It’s a symbol that means nothing.”
That goddamn fucking ring! I wish he’d never seen the damn thing. I don’t want a ring … I didn’t really even want the one Ethan gave me. I distinctly remember feeling stupid and just a tad nauseous when he put it on my finger. I gotta turn this conversation around …
“Brian?” I pick up his hand that’s jetting out from underneath my neck and start playing with his fingers.
“Yeah.”
“Have you ever failed to show a client that what you had to offer was what they needed?” I trace the outline of his fingers. He has beautiful hands … long fingers. And the things he can do with them. Mmm.
He lets out a small sigh. “Just once.”
I kiss each finger, one at a time. “How come?”
“The client was a real stickler. He wanted me to wine and dine him, to woo him away from the other offer.”
I smile. I have been known to be quite persistent and very stubborn.
“And you didn’t?”
Of course he didn’t, he’s more stubborn than me.
“Nuh uh.” I feel his chin graze the top of my head as he shakes his head with his answer.
I flatten my palm up against his. His hand is bigger.
“Why not? Was his account not important enough?”
Please say that I was. He spreads my fingers open and tucks each one of his in between them.
“Oh, he was important enough.” I’m smiling. “But I had my pride and he wanted more that I was willing to provide at the time. He needed to try the other agency before he could really see what my campaign was all about.”
You know how the saying goes… If you love someone, set them free…
“And did he finally realize it?” A big fat YES, please. His hand squeezes around mine.
“Yeah, but by that time, I had decided the campaign that I had chosen wasn’t really effective to achieve his goals so I modified it.”
That’s true, he had changed, but I’d wanted him back even before I knew that. The fact he’d ‘modified his campaign’ was just an added bonus for me.
“You don’t think he would have come back if you hadn’t modified the campaign?”
“Maybe he would have. Yeah I guess so, he called for an appointment before he knew anything about the modifications. But it didn’t matter. I still knew the campaign had to be altered.”
Good for me.
“And you got the account?”
“Yep.”
He sure did. I came back, and as the saying goes... I’m his to keep now.
“Pretty risky, don’t you think?”
“Pretty stupid actually,” he answers with a huff.
I couldn’t agree more. It was a stupid gamble. What if Ethan hadn’t cheated on me? I probably would have gone on pretending. I shudder. I don’t want to think about it but I’m thankful he did, if truth be known now.
“Would you do it different next time?”
I know I would.
“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.” He kisses the back of my neck and pulls me closer against his body.
“Brian? Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about Clio Awards and advertising clients anymore?”
Now … he can run for cover or he can fess up.
“Ummm, because you got 1500 on your SATs?” I huff with relief again. He’s not running.
“Well, I don’t think there’ll be a next time.” I reassure him by squeezing his hand.
“Glad to hear it.”
I’m smiling even though he doesn’t know. “But I bet that client’s still a stickler, huh?”
He laughs, his chest rumbling against my back. “Down right pain in the ass, is what he is.”
“Hey!” I nudge him with my elbow and he huffs in mock pain.
“Hey, what? I like pain in the ass. Don’t you?” He smirks, grinding against me. I push my hips back to reciprocate.
“Yeah. But that doesn’t mean that you should forget what you learned from the whole experience. You know, to make sure he stays your client. You gotta protect your investment.”
“I’ll never forget and I always protect my investments.” I feel warm all over and very protected.
“That’s good,” I say in the middle of a yawn. “Brian?”
“Yes, Sleepy?” he mocks, but I don’t let it distract me.
“I think your agency’s gonna be a huge success.” My way of telling him that I love him and that we’re gonna make it.
He squeezes me and kisses my ear as I close my eyes.
“I think so too.”
I fall asleep with him wrapped all around me instead of me wrapped around him, and a big smile on my face.
