[Wattys 2021 Shortlisted] In the ancient French perfume capital of Grasse, lives bohemian recluse Cassandra Ducasse, the last remaining member of a legendary family of perfumers. Trapped by her past, Cassandra is unwilling to take up the reins of h...
Vince checked his watch for the ninth time in five minutes. Seated to his left, Jed Baker gave a low cough to indicate they needed to move things along.
''May we start now, Mr. Callaghan?'' asked Jennifer Hatch sharply from the other side of the boardroom table. ''Imogen has another engagement at four thirty.'' Sitting beside her manager, Imogen was holding a pair of chopsticks in her manicured, brown hands, tapping them on the meeting table in rhythm with whatever she was listening to on her iPod. Her eyes were closed. Her PA, press agent, and a couple of other hangers-on were helping themselves to more sushi
It was five past two, and Vince had to accept that Cassandra wasn't coming. He would just have to pull himself together and get on with the presentation. He had kept them waiting too long already, and no-one kept Imogen waiting.
''Yeah. I think everyone who is coming is already here,'' he conceded, standing, and motioning to the receptionist to close the doors. Then he straightened his lapels and clicked on the data projector. ''We are here today to introduce to you Les histoires d'Imogen, a new fragrance inspired by... by you of course.'' He gave his most seductive smile in Imogen's direction.
With another click of the data projector, the title screen morphed into one of the black and white photographic posters. Across the table, Imogen skulked under her cowboy hat, chewing perpetually on a stick of gum. Her arms were folded, and she swung one chartreuse crocodile skin boot back and forth impatiently. Vince could see he was losing her. She was bored.
''We're going to take a quick look at the concept behind Les histoires first, and then I have some fragrances for you to test. They are all variations on a theme, and I hope you will find them, as I have done: wild, exquisite and elemental.'' Imogen's eyes roved over the presentation and down onto the Perspex case on the table in front of Vince. He blinked wearily. He wished they could have met outside today. At least then he could have worn glasses to disguise the heavy dark rings below his eyes.
''Let's start with the proposed print campaign...,'' he began, gesturing towards the screen. His words broke off as a commotion by the doorway turned all heads in that direction.
''Pardon! Pardon! Mademoiselle,'' sounded a familiar voice from outside. ''I know that I am late, but I am supposed to be in this meeting. You must let me in please.'' Through the paneled windows in the boardroom wall, Vince could see the receptionist stepping quickly towards the door, which burst open barely a second later. There, framed in the doorway, stood the arresting figure of Cassandra Ducasse.
She was dressed in a sleek grey angora knit dress with black stockings and burgundy leather boots. Around her neck hung several thick strands of beads: carnelian, lapis lazuli and turquoise. She looked stunning.
Everyone was silent for a moment, all eyes on the newcomer. As he looked at her, Vince felt life flowing back into his veins, energy pulsing through his exhausted body. She walked forward and reached for the empty chair at his right hand. Standing beside him, their eyes met, and he smiled.
''Welcome,'' he mouthed, drinking her in for as long as he could before he knew he had to turn back.
''Ladies and gentlemen,'' he announced, a swell of pride in his voice. ''I'm delighted to introduce to you Miss Cassandra Ducasse, grand-daughter of the legendary Claude Guipard, and creator of the perfumes we have for you today.''
Imogen cocked her head to one side and eyed Cassandra with some curiosity.
''Pleased to meet you, Cassandra'' she said, ''I'm a big fan of your family's work.'' Cassandra inclined her head.
''Thank you,'' she replied graciously. ''I was very close to my grandparents, and they were a great influence on my work. It always means a great deal to me to hear how they touched other people,'' Imogen smiled, her first of the afternoon.
''Yeah,'' she said. ''It's fantastic to have a creative family. It was my grandfather who taught me to play the guitar when I was just a tiny kid. Your father was a perfumer too, wasn't he? Made Geneviève? I wear that one often.'' Now, it was Cassandra's turn to smile.
''Actually,'' she replied, ''that one is mine.''
''No kidding?'' Imogen looked impressed. ''Well, I can't wait to see what you've come up with this time. Come on Vincent. Cut the crap and pass those perfumes over here. I've seen the whole marketing bit already anyway – it's excellent, you know that. Now let's smell the perfume. That's what we're here for isn't it?'' She winked.
Vince slid the case of fragrances across the table towards her. She opened it carefully with both hands, as if it contained nothing short of precious jewels.
Cassandra had taken a seat besides Vince now, close enough for him to imagine he could feel the warmth emanating from her body. Although she didn't look at him and her eyes remained fixed on Imogen, Vince could feel her consciousness reaching out towards him as his was to her. He was oblivious to Jed Baker glancing curiously in their direction.
Imogen opened the case and Cassandra leaned forward across the table, eager to share in the action. Her clothing was decidedly more fitted than what she usually wore, and Vince felt his eyes slipping involuntarily towards her, taking in her slender waist and the curve of her generous hips suspended above the table.
As she moved, she grabbed a handful of her wild, red hair and tossed it back over her shoulder. On his other side, Vince heard Jed mutter something perverse under his breath. Once it would have bothered him, but somehow, today, it didn't seem to matter at all. Jed Baker couldn't touch them. Frédéric Morvain couldn't touch them. No man alive could touch them - and no woman either. Because today it was clear in the way that each of them moved, angled towards each other at every moment, perfectly mirrored, and perfectly balanced; they were a team, a unit. They were inseparable.
''I like them all,'' Cassandra was saying as she leaned towards Imogen. ''But to be honest, this one is my favorite,'' she pointed towards the second vial in the box. ''It is slightly edgier than the other three, I think.''
Imogen regarded her thoughtfully and then plucked the second bottle from the case. She up-ended it against her wrist and then dabbed some on her fingers, at her throat and behind her ears. For a moment, she just sat there, her expression unfocussed, waiting. Above them on the wall the tick, tick of the boardroom clock marking out the seconds became clearly audible. Everyone paused with bated breath.
''I like it,'' Imogen said finally. ''Totally dig it in fact. It's sweet, but not too sweet. It's also sort of earthy and green. Reminds me a bit of a rainstorm or something. Good work, Cassandra.'' Then she rose from the table and with a hurried scrape of chairs, her entourage rose with her.
''Aren't you even going to try the other scents?'' interjected Jed Baker in surprise.
''She says this is the best one and I figure she knows,'' said Imogen pointing a long, purple fingernail in Cassandra's direction. ''If I didn't think this one was awesome, maybe I'd give them a try, but what for? I can see myself wearing this - and I can't say that for many fragrances. Vincent, get in touch with my lawyers and hash out the contract with them. I am happy to move with the roll out whenever you are ready. Oh, and once again, lovely to meet you, Cassandra. We should do lunch some time.''
She swept from the room, her people scurrying along behind her, taking frantic notes and checking the messages on their phones as they went.
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