ladder and destroyed the backdrop. We had to start over, but I didn’t mind. I never was all that happy with the first version.”
“So you ended up doing twice the work for the same pay.” He chuckled.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I know where you’re coming from on that. I like to get it right.” He leafed through the rest of the drawings. “Did any of these get built, or are they at the idea stage?”
Nicole shook her head to the first part of his question. “No. Just ideas. Strictly imaginary.”
“The windows of New York need you, Nicole. You gotta start showing your stuff to more people,” Finn said in a friendly way.
“Like who?”
He lifted his head as if he was listening to something. “Sounds like they’re closing. Let’s talk about this later.” He set the portfolio on a high table and left it open.
“Is the meeting going to be in here?”
Finn shook his head. “Nope. In the shoe department. It’s the only place with enough seating.”
“How many freelancers did you hire?”
Finn did a rough count in his head. “Five windows, four people in each, so that’s twenty—un—less someone doesn’t show.”
She smiled wryly. “That can happen.”
He picked up a piece of paper with a scribbled list of names that had been divided into columns. She saw her name at the top of one.
“I’m putting you in charge of three others into a window at the front. I’ll decide which one after Xandro does his presentation.”
The two big windows to either side of the front entrance were the most important. They weren’t called focus windows for nothing.
“Thanks,” Nicole said eagerly.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Finn answered with a shake of his head. “We have a long night ahead.”
They exited the mannequin room and walked through the store. The sales associates helped the last customers finish shopping, and one unlocked the door as each left.
The CLOSED sign went up. A security guard took over the locking and unlocking, letting in the freelancers as they arrived.
The usual ragtag group of art students and design freaks, Nicole thought with an inward smile. Some of their outfits were pretty strange, but you didn’t dress to kill, you dressed to survive. They would be working nonstop under hot lights, crawling over and around each other for hours in the papered-up windows.
“Okay, people, listen up. This is the concept,” Xandro began. “I want to show the other side of Christmas. The bad side.”
Nicole could imagine the stares the narrow-faced man was getting from the front rows, but no one said a word. Behind heavy, black-framed glasses, his eyes were hard to see. His long, dark hair was thinning on top, drawn back into a limp ponytail.
“The mood is disillusionment,” Xandro went on. “Somber colors. Empty gift boxes. Unpaid bills. Ripped jeans that look tough enough to get our customer through the real holidays. I’m talking urban grit, not spun sugar ...”
Nicole turned slightly to Finn, eyes wide. He was straddling a low bench with slanted mirrors built into the base, next to her in the back row. She hoped the visual manager couldn’t hear her whisper, “Sounds grim. Is he for real?”
“Apparently,” Finn muttered. “But I’d like to know how he got ENJ corporate to approve a concept like that.”
Some sixth sense made him look up when Xandro pointed to him. “Excuse me, Finn. Is that you talking? Do you have questions?”
“No.”
“Then let’s move on. Here are the sketches.”
His assistant set up one for each of the five windows on lightweight easels.
“Finn will assign people to teams with specific responsibilities for parts of the overall design. He and I will be checking to see that everyone stays on track and on time as the hours go by. Let’s meet our goals, people.”
Xandro snapped his fingers, and Finn rose with a sigh that only Nicole could hear. He moved in front of the freelancers.
“We’re going to start
“So you ended up doing twice the work for the same pay.” He chuckled.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I know where you’re coming from on that. I like to get it right.” He leafed through the rest of the drawings. “Did any of these get built, or are they at the idea stage?”
Nicole shook her head to the first part of his question. “No. Just ideas. Strictly imaginary.”
“The windows of New York need you, Nicole. You gotta start showing your stuff to more people,” Finn said in a friendly way.
“Like who?”
He lifted his head as if he was listening to something. “Sounds like they’re closing. Let’s talk about this later.” He set the portfolio on a high table and left it open.
“Is the meeting going to be in here?”
Finn shook his head. “Nope. In the shoe department. It’s the only place with enough seating.”
“How many freelancers did you hire?”
Finn did a rough count in his head. “Five windows, four people in each, so that’s twenty—un—less someone doesn’t show.”
She smiled wryly. “That can happen.”
He picked up a piece of paper with a scribbled list of names that had been divided into columns. She saw her name at the top of one.
“I’m putting you in charge of three others into a window at the front. I’ll decide which one after Xandro does his presentation.”
The two big windows to either side of the front entrance were the most important. They weren’t called focus windows for nothing.
“Thanks,” Nicole said eagerly.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Finn answered with a shake of his head. “We have a long night ahead.”
They exited the mannequin room and walked through the store. The sales associates helped the last customers finish shopping, and one unlocked the door as each left.
The CLOSED sign went up. A security guard took over the locking and unlocking, letting in the freelancers as they arrived.
The usual ragtag group of art students and design freaks, Nicole thought with an inward smile. Some of their outfits were pretty strange, but you didn’t dress to kill, you dressed to survive. They would be working nonstop under hot lights, crawling over and around each other for hours in the papered-up windows.
“Okay, people, listen up. This is the concept,” Xandro began. “I want to show the other side of Christmas. The bad side.”
Nicole could imagine the stares the narrow-faced man was getting from the front rows, but no one said a word. Behind heavy, black-framed glasses, his eyes were hard to see. His long, dark hair was thinning on top, drawn back into a limp ponytail.
“The mood is disillusionment,” Xandro went on. “Somber colors. Empty gift boxes. Unpaid bills. Ripped jeans that look tough enough to get our customer through the real holidays. I’m talking urban grit, not spun sugar ...”
Nicole turned slightly to Finn, eyes wide. He was straddling a low bench with slanted mirrors built into the base, next to her in the back row. She hoped the visual manager couldn’t hear her whisper, “Sounds grim. Is he for real?”
“Apparently,” Finn muttered. “But I’d like to know how he got ENJ corporate to approve a concept like that.”
Some sixth sense made him look up when Xandro pointed to him. “Excuse me, Finn. Is that you talking? Do you have questions?”
“No.”
“Then let’s move on. Here are the sketches.”
His assistant set up one for each of the five windows on lightweight easels.
“Finn will assign people to teams with specific responsibilities for parts of the overall design. He and I will be checking to see that everyone stays on track and on time as the hours go by. Let’s meet our goals, people.”
Xandro snapped his fingers, and Finn rose with a sigh that only Nicole could hear. He moved in front of the freelancers.
“We’re going to start
Similar Books
