He sat slowly sipping a cup of steaming hot coffee at the patio seating of his favorite coffee house clearing his mind. He was meeting a perspective client in an hour, his nerves a little on edge, which was a good thing keeping him on his A-game. The thoughts running in his head ranged from the numbers, facts, and clients they as a studio had been able to attract. There was also the number of campaigns they had put together. In another part of his mind was the constant battle to keep at bay the fears, doubts, and securities he had about my life and life choices.
The caffeine in the coffee hadn’t yet hit him yet, as from where he was sitting He watched two young women of Asian decent walk up to the coffee house patio. Now, in even another part of his mind, the game was on. The game was to figure out the nationality of the two Asian women that walked up, maybe a bit racist, but it was his own personal fetish and he couldn’t help it. He discreetly watched them settle in placing their essentials they were carrying on the table. They were both carrying iphones with black cases. One had a Burberry purse she opened, and he could see she had an old school disposable camera inside.
He took another drink of the still hot coffee. The client he was to meet was looking to reinvent their company, once a global youthful brand. Over the years, their sales and audiences took a down turn. They were asked to come on and reenergize and re-develop the lagging brand.
Korean, he thought in his head, as the phone of one of the girls went off, catching his attention. They were now set up with a Mac laptop to the WIFI and were fervently working and messaging on their phones. One was dressed in a navy floral patterned summer dress with a brown leather braided belt cinched at her waist, embellished sandals, and black-rimmed coke bottle cap spectacles. The other seated with her legs crossed, wore a pair of jeans shorts, a tribal print top that formed to her torso, as she looked into a purple Land’s End tote bag. Both girls had their raven colored hair tied up in pigtails. He couldn’t make up his mind on where they were from, watching the one in jean shorts, examining her unpainted toes, and looking up from her phone just for that moment.
He was just about finished with his coffee feeling good about the upcoming client meeting. Securing this account would be monumental, and it would also make them a global production company, more than just a production studio. Some tried to degrade their success by calling them “Kidults”. They embraced that and really thought growing up was a trap and they, he, wanted no part of the “old way” of thinking.
He sipped his coffee down to just about the last drop, intent in savoring the moments before he turned on the charm and power of persuasion. He laughed as his mind was now saying “Chinese”, as he overheard the two girls talking. He couldn’t be sure they were speaking Chinese, but it was another un-informed guess. The cute red headed barista called out, “Ruth”, and the Asian girl in the navy dress went up to the counter and grabbed a drink and a pastry, bringing it back to the table. The two girls split the sweet delicacy.
The caffeine rush was now hitting him, and he was unconsciously tapping his foot in a nervous pattern. Now was the time to walk back to the studio and burn off some of the buzz and do the final prep for the client meeting. He took the last drink of his coffee got up from the table, and began to walk the three lovely blocks back to the studio, which was a matter of a few minutes away. He was dressed in a light green YSL cashmere knit sweater, Diesel jeans, black Diesel invasion sneakers, and his special gold Rolex on his left wrist. He shielded his eyes with a pair of classic Ray Bans, going back on his previous decision of thinking the two girls were Chinese, thinking now that they were Japanese.
He began walking at a faster pace; the excitement of pitching his studio’s capabilities gave him a bit of a hard on. He checked just to make sure he wasn’t pitching a noticeable tent on State Street. When out of the crowd of people ahead of him came a vision of beauty walking toward him. He, to this day, he doesn’t know what drew his attention, be it the color contrast of her dress against her terracotta color skin, or the way she glided in and out of the crowd. She walked, coming ever closer to him closer. He was sure their eyes met behind shaded lenses, as her head turned with a little hitch bouncing her blonde locks into the calm breeze kicking up. The closer she got, the more details he picked up from her. She wore a canary yellow silk Chloe dress, light blue suede Giuseppe Z heels, and carried a white Hermes vintage leather tote. She had easily walked into his line of sight, and the closer she got, she walked into his heart. He thought about stopping her and complementing her on her gorgeous dress. Yet, if they actually started a conversation, he knew his focus would be lost for the meeting he was so wrapped up in. He felt like the Universe was working in his favor, synchronicity to the max, but this wouldn't be the cherry on top.
She kept walking down the sidewalk toward him. It was inevitable they’d cross paths at this point, but then he got a message on his phone. Grabbing his iphone from his jean pocket he saw that the message was his assistant Nicole, informing him the client had arrived at the studio. Time he guesses wasn’t on his side in this encounter. She was less than half a block ahead of him. She moved with power and grace looking like a Jake Davis Test shot. She was now in front of him. He tipped down his Ray Bans, showing his eyes looking directly at her as she walked by, mouthing the words DAAAMMN! She saw him, he was sure, but she kept walking. He turned and watched her walk off admiring the switch in her walk; it was everything he expected it to be.
He pulled his thoughts together, walking into the studio greeted by Nicole holding the portfolio he had set up for the client. He began walking to the conference room and Nicole informed him the client had stepped out to take a call. He was more than ready, and with time now on his side, he sat at the conference table briefly looking over his notes in the portfolio like the waning moments before a final exam. Nicole came back into the room followed by a middle-aged man in a grey suit and then with another man maybe a bit younger, in a navy pinstriped suit. He wondered who these two men were, since he was expecting a middle aged woman with a Hillary Clinton pant suit or some kind of dress to make her look younger. He shook the hands of the two men introducing himself and finally asking, “So where is Mrs. Arguello?” The man in the pinstriped suit, who introduced himself as a lawyer, corrected him by saying, “You mean Ms. Arguello” He looked at Nicole and then at the portfolio in front of him. Everything they had was Mrs. Arguello; did they make a mistake right off the bat?
So he went with it. “So where is Ms. Arguello?” The man in the grey suit who introduced himself as an accountant, chimed in, “She should be back shortly. She went for a cup of coffee.” Both men explained that Ms. Arguello is a fan of the coffee house down the street and that where they were from, they had to import, it and seeing it as a real brick and mortar shop, she couldn’t resist. He told the men he loved the place as well and that he was just there, a funny thing. He looked the two men over sizing them up a little, the only mishap thus far the Mrs. or Ms. Arguello, which got him really thinking about who this lady was. Then she walked in a cup of coffee to go and a pouch of coffee beans in her hand. It was the woman he admired on his way here. He was stunned. With his jaw slack, he managed to stand, as she put the pouch of beans on the table. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. He reached out to shake her elegant hand. She winked at him and mouthed the words DAAAMMN! They then sat down, and she sat directly in front of him without breaking eye contact, synchronicity was on time.
