Race to the Top

Chapter 3

After dropping Nadia off at a club, I pay the driver and step out of the cab into the chilly evening air. I feel confident and excited as I make my way up the steps to the fancy ballroom for the event.
The event is a charity for the local humane society put on by the NYC Marketing Association. Every major marketing firm in the city belongs to this association and every year they pick a charity to support for their annual gala. It's a reason for us all to get dressed up and be seen at a fancy event while also supporting a good cause.
I hand my invitation to the doorman and check my coat.
"Ginger! So glad you could make it."
I turn around to see the owner of my company, a sweet older man named Gerald and his son, Liam. Gerald approaches me and kisses my cheek.
"You're looking lovely as always," he says then turns to his son. "Doesn't she look lovely Liam?"
"Of course! Thanks for coming." Liam has never been one to waste words but his dad genuinely loves complimenting and conversation in general.
"I wouldn't miss it!" I say more enthusiastically than I mean to. "Any potential or current clients I should keep an eye out for here?"
"Ginger, my dear lady, take the night off for god's sake. Enjoy yourself, no working," Gerald says while playfully grabbing my shoulders and shaking them. His hands are strong even though he's a smaller man, shorter than I am. He's in his sixties and started our company, Atwood Collective, over 30 years ago with his wife who is now retired. Both him and his son have a sweet, boyish charm about them but I know how cut throat and hungry they can be. Luckily, Gerald had taken a liking to me early on. He had an affinity for hard workers whether they be males or females and I appreciated that he had put me in this category. At the same time, I still felt I had to work extra hard to earn praise as was the case for most career women in the city.
We make our way into the grand ballroom together and wait in an already long line to purchase drinks at the bar.
"So, I heard Adair Knives is looking for U.S. representation, I've been researching their company all week," I say quietly to the two of them.
"Yes, we heard that as well," Liam said swapping a look with his dad that says they were holding back some information.
"Well, I know for a fact they will be in town next week, if I can get a meeting, I'd like to lead the pitch to them." I say confidently even though my insides squirm a bit.
"Really? For an outdoor enthusiast company?" Gerald asks.
"I know I can speak their language," I say.

"Don't get me wrong Ginger, you can represent fine whiskey, high end goods, and luxury cars but you don't exactly seem like the type to lace up hiking boots on the weekends," Gerald says skeptically.
"All I'm asking for is if I get the meeting, I'd like to lead. I want to show you I can handle an important pitch start to finish," I say again, thankful for the liquid courage I had earlier so I can be direct.

Gerald pauses, clearly deep in thought then looks at Liam before looking at me again.
"Alright my dear girl, get the meeting and you can run the pitch."
I break into a wide smile while I squeal internally.
"Thank you, you won't be sorry."
Just then we reach the bar. I order a glass of Glenlivet 18 while Liam and Gerald order bourbon. Liam pays with the company card and we do a small toast before heading over to the silent auction tables.
A few hours later, I've listened to several speeches about the importance of the humane society, had two drinks, approximately six appetizers and won zero auctions. As the final pitch ends, a band comes out to play for the next few hours while people continue to enjoy the event. I decide I'll have one more drink before either heading home or to the tavern to meet up with Nadia and Simon.
I slide onto a stool at the bar in the back and order another round of Glenlivet 18. Just as the bartender places the drink on a napkin and requests payment, a voice interrupts me.
"Make it two," Jackson approaches and gives his card to the bartender. I blink slowly at him as my jaw clenches involuntarily.
"Jackson, no, I can buy my own drinks, but thanks," I say without an ounce of kindness. Jackson smiles. He's in a black tux and I hate how nice it looks on his hard frame. I feel his eyes scan me and it sends a small shiver down my spine.
"It's on my company, just say 'thank you," Jackson replies. He looks away from me nonchalantly but I can tell he's trying to appear more uninterested in interacting with me than he is.
He holds up his glass and clinks it to mine then takes a swig.
"Damn, what is this?" He holds the glass up and swishes the amber liquid inside around. "It's delicious."
"Glenlivet 18," I reply with literally the fewest words possible.

His icy blue eyes shift back to me and I hope he doesn't see the subtle goosebumps that appear on my skin.

"Ah yes, Ginger knows her liquor. Wasn't Highland Park one of your accounts?"
"Mmmhmm, and Longbranch for a seasonal campaign," I say quickly.
Jackson leans up against the bar and looks out over the crowd then back at me. His breath fans across my bare shoulder and smells slightly sweet under the alcohol.
"So was that your main haunt I was in last night? Finn's Tavern?" His voice has a taunting tone to it.
I snap my head to look at him not sure if I should say I love it or hate it, which is more likely to make him stay away? He responds before I can say anything.
"Ha, it is isn't it?! Maybe I should pop in there again?"
"Jackson, please don't ruin my favorite bar for me," I say rolling my eyes and taking another sip. "Plus all I have to do is snap my fingers in that place and Simon will rip your arms and legs off without even questioning why."
Jackson chuckles, it's raspy and genuine. He takes another sip and continues to look at me.
"I really get under your skin don't I?"
"Don't flatter yourself, you're a pest and nothing more to me." I wave at him like he's a fly. I hate that he's still looking at me.
"And if I get the Adair account? Will we officially reach mortal enemies status or do I have to actually slash your tires?" He laughs again and I hate how funny he finds himself. I wish he'd just go away.
"You're not getting the account, trust me. I'll win them over. They'll see right through your fake charm."
"So far, you're the only one who has succeeded in that, or perhaps you've misjudged me," he says with a raised eyebrow like he's a cat toying with a mouse.
"I'm sure I could find a multitude of scorned women who would agree with me. Maybe we'll start a club," I bite back, glaring straight into his blue eyes.
"You think I'm a player eh? Your friend last night sure seemed interested," Jackson leans closer to me, not backing down from our unspoken game of chicken.
"Please, Nadia would fuck a clean dick attached to a rock and you're not Simon's type."
Jackson tilts his head back slightly and gives a throaty laugh. He looks at me again while still smiling and points a finger at me with the hand holding his glass.
"You're funny, I bet you're a hoot with people you like," he says.
"Too bad you'll never find out," I say. I finish my drink and place the empty glass on the bar.
"Thanks for the drink, let's not do this again."
"I'll enjoy watching you walk away for multiple reasons," Jackson flashes me another smile before I turn and leave. I look over my shoulder at him after I've put a good 20 yards between us and he is indeed still watching me. Ugh, how can someone so annoying be so hot? I say goodbye to Gerald and leave. I stop at the coat check and grab my coat before stepping outside, my skin feeling warm with alcohol and frustration against the freezing, damp air.