Honey on Your Mind (4 page)

“I’ll try to remember that.”

She reached down and pulled a large binder from her bag. “OK, let’s get down to business. I have all sorts of plans for your Honey products, so I hope you’re ready to get busy. Are you?” She opened it across her lap.

I stared at the binder. “Wow, Andie said you were on top of it, but I think she sold you a bit short.”

She laughed. “Oh yes, I don’t mess around.”

Over the next half hour, Paige explained where she thought the Honey products would be a good fit, as well as her strategy for developing both local and national accounts. She also discussed
the most cost-effective production network to support orders, which, until then, I’d been fulfilling piecemeal out of my apartment with sporadic trips to the post office. Compared to what she was describing, I was a retail preschooler, barely out of diapers.

“Are you following me? Am I going too fast?” She stopped and put a hand on my arm. She didn’t say it in a mean way and was clearly only reacting to the look on my face, which apparently displayed what I was thinking:
I am totally in over my head!

I blinked. “I’m following. I just didn’t realize how much was involved in, um, in getting a product on the shelves.” Until now, the T-shirts, tote bags, and other items that made up Waverly’s Honey Shop had only an online presence.

She smiled. “That’s OK, no one ever does. But that’s a
good
thing, because if you did, would you have made the effort to create all those cool products in the first place?”

I laughed. “Probably not.”

“See? That’s why you have me. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. I’ve been doing this for years, and while it’s never easy to launch a new product, I think your Honey line has potential.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “I don’t take on product lines I don’t believe in. I learned that lesson once. It’s just a huge waste of time for everyone.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a Honey Tote that said I
S IT WORSE TO BE FAKE OR BITCHY?
on the front and H
ONEY, JUST FACE IT
. I
F YOU’RE ASKING, YOU’RE PROBABLY BOTH
on the back. She pointed to it. “
This
is the story of my life, right here in black and white.”

I smiled. “That’s my best seller. And I don’t believe that’s the story of your life. Andie says you’re the nicest person in her family.”

“She really said that?”

I nodded.

“Andie’s so sweet.” She finished her beer and set it on the bar, then looked at her phone. “Listen, I hate to drink and run, but I have a date, so I need to leave soon. I’m sorry.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You’re seeing someone?” Given what Andie had said about Paige’s dating history, I figured she was single.

She shook her head. “It’s a first date. It’ll probably be the last too, but you’ve got to try, right?”

“You’ve definitely got to try. How did you meet him?”

“Actually, I haven’t.”

“Set up?”

“Sort of. It’s through a matchmaking service.”

“A matchmaking service?”

She nodded. “I figured I’d try putting my love life into the hands of professionals, because whatever I’m doing clearly isn’t working. You know what happened with the last guy I dated?”

“I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”

She leaned toward me and lowered her voice. “I spent the night for the first time at his apartment, and right before we went to sleep, he gave me a brand new toothbrush.”

“OK…”

“And then the next morning, he said he was just going to throw it away, so I might as well take it with me.”

I winced. “He really said that?”

“He really said that.”

“He didn’t say you could keep it there?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Ouch.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you like him?”

“Unfortunately, yeah, I did.” She looked…sad.

I made a sad face. “Did I already say ouch?”

“You did. Thanks.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry, Paige.”

She waved a hand in front of her. “It’s OK. I’m used to it by now.”

“So that’s dating in New York?”

She shrugged. “That’s dating in New York. At least my version of it. Which explains my recent decision to let the pros take over.”

“Sounds like a smart idea to me.”

“Andie tells me you have a serious boyfriend. Josh something? Jake? Jared?”

I took a sip of my beer. “Jake. McIntyre. He lives in Atlanta.”

“How long have you been dating?”

“Officially about six months. But I went through my own share of dating hell before I met him, including being on the losing end of a broken engagement. So believe me, I feel your pain.”

She nodded. “I’ve heard stories from Andie about the slim pickings in San Francisco, but there’s no way it’s as bad out there as it is here.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Want to try me?”

She laughed. “Is that a dare?”

I laughed too. “I guess so.”

“OK, it’s on. Can you beat that toothbrush story?”

“I think I can.”

“OK, let’s hear it.”

I paused to think for a minute, then nodded. “OK, I once went on a date with a guy who told me over dinner that I’d be more attractive if my boobs were bigger.”

Her jaw dropped. “No.”

I nodded and looked down at my chest. “I think I was even wearing a padded bra at the time.”

“Wowsa. OK, I see that, and I raise you a guy who—
after one date
—suggested I lose a few pounds before he’d be ‘up for seeing’ me naked.”

I pushed her shoulder. “No way! For real?”

She nodded. “For real. He even e-mailed me a link to a special Jenny Craig was running.”

“Oh my
God
. What an asshole.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t fun. Can you top that?”

I paused. “That might be hard, but I think I can. Just give me a minute.” I closed my eyes to concentrate. I knew there must be
something
in my memory I could pull out. I’d yet to meet anyone who could compete when it came to my pre-Jake dating disasters.

Think, Waverly!

I kept my eyes closed for moment, and then it came to me.

Yes!

“OK, OK, I’ve got one. I had a first date once that went well. We had dinner and then went for a walk. I kissed him a little bit, but nothing serious.”

“OK…”

“And then the next day he sent me a text message…”

“OK…”

“Actually, it wasn’t really a
message
.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“It was a photo.
Just
a photo. No message.”

She kept her eyebrows raised. “And?”

“The photo was of himself…no shirt on…with one hand holding the camera…and the other hand…down his underwear.”

Her eyes got big. “No
way
.”

I nodded.

“There’s no way that really happened.”

I pulled out my phone. “Oh yes it did.” I scrolled through the photos and showed it to her.

“No
way
.” She said again as she looked at the picture. “That’s totally his package. I can’t believe it.”

I laughed. “Yep, right there for the whole world to see through a thin layer of cotton.”

“Did you reply?”

I shook my head. “Before I got a chance to do anything, he sent me another text.”

“Another photo?”

“No, this one was a message that said ‘
Wanna see it?
’”

“He did
not
.”

I laughed. “Oh yes he did.”

“What did you do?”

“I replied that
no
, I did
not
want to see it.”

“Wow, that’s off the charts, Waverly.”

I grinned. “I know. Did I win?”

“I think you just did. She pulled her own phone out of her purse and looked at it. “And I can’t play this game any longer because I’ve
really
got to run now, or I’ll be late.”

“Good luck. I hope your date tonight doesn’t make our list.”

“I hope not too. It was so nice meeting you. I’ll be in touch soon about the Honey products, OK? I promise to take good care of you.”

I smiled. “Sounds good to me. I’m so glad to have you to help me with this.”

“Oh gosh, it’s my pleasure. Plus, if I do my job right, we’ll both make out like bandits.” She put the binder and Honey Tote back inside her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Welcome to New York, my new friend. We’re glad to have you.”

She gave me a quick hug and was gone.

I pulled out my phone as soon as she left and was happy to see a timely new text from Jake:

Back in Atlanta, but wish I were still in Brooklyn

I smiled at the message. I’d certainly come a long way from the guy with one hand down his boxer briefs.

• • •

When I’d come to New York in the past, I’d always taken cabs, since my company was paying. But truth be told, I’d also been a bit overwhelmed by the sheer enormity and complexity of the subway system. Now that I was living here, though—not to mention paying for my own transportation—I was determined to master it. So, on the morning of my first meeting at
Love, Wendy,
I anxiously followed the masses down into the Court Street stop.

At Union Square in Manhattan, I stepped off the train and stood on the platform for a moment, taking in the madness. Then I looked overhead and studied the signs to find the correct uptown route before I plunged into the swarming crowd. Along the way, I strolled by an eight-person jazz band and what appeared to be a fully functioning police station.
Underground
. On the final leg of my journey, I avoided the scary smiles of a few
The World Is Ending
pamphlet pushers, steered clear of a couple of sleeping/passed out people, and finally descended another stairway to reach the correct uptown platform, which was teeming with commuters moving in all directions. In the middle of the chaos, a man with dreadlocks down to his waist calmly played a Jamaican steel drum.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock.

As I waited for the connecting train to arrive, I wondered if anyone actually
lived
in the subway. It certainly seemed possible. I figured it was only a matter of time before someone made a reality show out of it.

• • •

I arrived at NBC with time to spare. Scotty had been traveling the entire week before, so we hadn’t connected more than briefly by phone. That meant I was essentially walking into my first day blind—and desperately hoping I wouldn’t crash into anything.

I checked in with the receptionist at the front desk, who directed me to HR to fill out some paperwork before I was to join the team at ten o’clock. When I was done with that, I still had time to kill, so I played with my phone for a while and pretended to look busy. Finally, I decided to make my way to the conference room. As I walked down the crisp hallways, I half expected a security guard to appear out of nowhere, grab my elbow, and escort me from the premises.

I couldn’t believe how nervous I was.

I arrived at the meeting about five minutes early. There was only one person seated at the huge table, and he looked about seventeen, so I figured he was an intern. He appeared to be playing a game on his phone. I smiled at him and sat down at the opposite end of the table, wondering if he was an executive’s kid. I pulled out a notebook and looked over at him again. He didn’t raise his eyes from the screen.

OK, then.

A few minutes later, the room began to fill up. People arrived in pairs or threes, chatting among themselves. No one paid me
much attention, so I focused on breathing deeply and trying not to sweat too much. Then Scotty walked in.

Thank God.
A familiar face.

As soon as he saw me, he trotted over to give me a big hug. Apparently, it’s OK to hug at the office in the world of TV.

“Waverly! It’s so great to see you. Welcome to NBC. Welcome to New York!”

“Thanks, Scotty. It’s great to see you too. I can’t believe this is really happening.” I kept my voice low.

“I’m so excited to have you on board. You’re going to do just great.”

“I’m totally nervous,” I added in a whisper.

He squeezed my shoulders tightly. “Don’t worry for a minute. Let’s grab coffee after this, OK?”

I nodded and sat down as he walked to the front of the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce the newest member of the
Love, Wendy
team, Ms. Waverly Bryson.”

Everyone looked at me. I smiled and tried to make eye contact all around, but it felt a bit forced. I hoped no one noticed how uncomfortable I felt.

“As you may already know, she’ll be hosting a new segment called
Honey on Your Mind
, based on a popular advice column she wrote for the
San Francisco Sun
. It’s going to be a fun addition to the show.”

After a few smiles and nods in my direction, everyone turned back to Scotty.

“
Plus
she’s a lot of fun, especially after a couple drinks, so I’m excited to have her on board and know you will all love her just as much as I do.”

More smiles and nods in my direction. I’d never been in a work environment that so blatantly blurred the lines between
professional relationships and personal ones, so I was a little thrown by how familiar he was being and wondered how everyone
really
felt about me—especially now that they knew I’d been out boozing with the boss.

I kept waiting for Wendy Davenport to stroll into the room, but she never did.

Where is she?

The meeting seemed to go smoothly, at least what I could understand of it. I quickly learned that TV people use a lot of jargon and acronyms, many of which went sailing right over my head. I was able to decipher some of it through context, but I was tempted more than once to raise my hand and ask for a translation. Not wanting to look like I was in
too
far over my head, however, I feigned understanding while furtively jotting down a long list of questions. I’d get Scotty to explain it all to me later.

The intern played with his phone throughout the entire meeting.