Page 14 of Gray Hair Don't Care
“I’m not saying that. I’m merely suggesting you try to get her to ease up. She’ll listen to you, honey. You’re probably the one person she’ll actually listen to.”
“I hate that I have to say anything at all. I’m a grown-ass woman. I should be allowed to organize my own wedding.” She kneaded her forehead for a moment then took another of her cleansing breaths and grabbed her phone from the coffee table. “Oh, shoot. I have fifteen minutes until my meeting with the founder of the cosmetics line JTI is moving over to us. Do you want to sit in?”
“Sure. I don’t know a thing about makeup, but if you want me there, I’m happy to do it.”
“Let me show you the website.” Echo got up and grabbed her laptop from her desk, then returned to the couch and plopped down next to Donovan. “Depending on how the meeting goes, I’m thinking about asking her to help me oversee the beauty division. She’s been a professional makeup artist for over twenty years and really knows her stuff.”
“What’s the company called?”
“Here it is.” Echo pulled up the website. “It’s called Lela B.”
Donovan nearly choked on his sandwich. “Wait. What did you say?”
“Lela B. They specialize in products formulated for women over forty. I’m sure you saw in the JTI market research that we’re reaching a much broader age demographic than we first thought. Plus, these are customers with a lot more disposable income.”
Echo began scrolling through the website. Meanwhile, Donovan was starting to experience that tightening in his chest again. “Is there an About page?”
Echo scanned the screen. “Yep. Hold on.”
The page loaded and Donovan did a double take. Because there was Lela, looking completely different. “Holy crap.” The words spouted from his mouth like water from a faucet.
“What?” Echo reared back her head.
“She’s completely gray.”
“Dad. What the hell? She’s gorgeous. Who cares if she has gray hair?”
Donovan rattled his head back and forth, if only to shake himself into the present. “No. That’s not what I mean.” Although Donovan could admit to himself that it was unusual to see a gray-haired woman at the helm of a beauty company. “I know her.”
“Who? Her?” Echo pointed to the photo of Lela.
“Yes. Lela Bennett. We went to college together. We were good friends. The last time I saw her was three years ago. When I came to New York when you were finishing grad school.” A sharp pain sizzled in his stomach. He winced at the discomfort.
“Dad. Are you okay?” Echo gently placed her hand on his shoulder, her face painted with concern.
He nodded, willing it all to go away. “I’m fine. Probably just my lunch disagreeing with me.”
“Are you sure? I feel like you tell me that and you aren’t actually okay.”
“So says the woman who’s trying to will herself into a state of fine with her wedding. I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”
Echo narrowed her stare on him, seeming unconvinced. She returned her sights to the computer, then back again to him. “Is this going to be a problem? Is there something I need to know about Lela Bennett? Because you’re acting super weird.”
He cleared his throat. He would not lie to his daughter, but he also wanted to reassure her. “This is not a problem. If you want to work with Lela, I think it’s a fantastic idea. I can assure you that she’s wonderful.”
“Were you two an item at some point?”
“Not exactly.”
“Boyfriend-girlfriend?”
“Never that serious.”
“Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies?”
“Echo. Seriously? You use that terminology with your father?”
“Just be straight with me, Dad. Because I know you, and when you and women are involved, it never ends well. Ever.”
