Page 6 of Made
“Guy only, I’m afraid. I’d love to widen my dating pool, but unfortunately I’m all about the D.”
Mason raises his mug in a toast. “I hear that.” He drinks down the rest of his coffee and sets in on the desk with a satisfied sigh, like everything feels easier to manage. A good coffee will do that for you.
“Dating advice aside, I did also want to tell you what a great job you did with Mr. Kim this morning. He’s not a man easily impressed, and I know you blew his socks off.”
Ah. Now this is much safer ground, and so good to hear. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face and the flush of pride that heats my cheeks. I love working with business giants like Mr. Kim, and identifying gaps in their media strategy. I like to think it’s my superpower. “I’m so glad it went well.”
“Your social media strategy was spot on, Ellie. It’s the area we really need to sharpen up, and with you on board we’ve already doubled our engagement levels.”
Another rush of pride washes over me. Mason James is a PR and marketing genius. Despite his easygoing nature, I’ve seen his ruthless business side, too. It’s awe-inspiring. And also mildly terrifying. His brother, Elijah, my other boss, is equally formidable and inspirational, but Mason has a way of getting grown adults to practically eat from the palm of his hand. That’s a huge part of PR, and I’m learning a lot from him.
Praise from Mason, a man who I respect so much, is extra special. “I’m just glad I can help. I do appreciate you putting your trust in me. I know there were more experienced candidates for this job.”
“Yeah, but you were the one we wanted. I suppose it’s a bit like dating. You know when the right person comes along, and you were the perfect fit for us. Our belief in you is well placed, and we couldn’t be happier with the way this is working out. Even if you do make me recycle my coffee grounds.”
I let out a little laugh. “It makes great compost, and the community garden project appreciates it.”
“I know. And it’s good that you challenge us, make us think about things a little differently. We tend to see our charity work in the big picture—donations, corporate support, endorsements. You show us that it can also be small and personal, too.”
I’m blushing now, thrilled. I’ve suggested a few little eco-friendly projects for the company, and they’ve all been well received.
“You give us a fresh perspective, Ellie, and we appreciate that. Next, I’ll be asking you to look at how we might promote the new fitness app we just acquired.”
As soon as he says it, my mind starts spinning up some ideas. It’s a great app, and there’s room for a really creative approach to marketing it. All thoughts of this morning are wiped clean as my brain buzzes with a new challenge.
I’m deep in thought already as Mason stands up and checks his watch. “But right now, I’m about to be late for lunch with my brother.” He pulls a disgusted face.
One of the other things I know about both Mason and Elijah is that they’re from a super close family of five brothers. It makes me wonder what the face-pulling was about. “You don’t want to go to lunch with your brother?”
“I do, but what I don’t want is to eat another bean or lentil. Ever again, for the rest of my life.” He makes a gagging noise that has me smiling. He might be a billionaire marketing genius, but sometimes he’s also a complete goofball. “My brother’s on a vegan kick at the moment. He wants to show me this new place today, and I just fucking know it’s going to be veggies only. Kale burgers and broccoli cheesecake all round.”
“Is he fully vegan?”
Mason’s eyes blow wide, like he’s horrified by the suggestion. “No. Absolutely not. That’s the thing. He loves meat as much as I do, but I bet we’re gonna be eating mung beans for lunch. I swear, if he wasn’t such a genuine guy, I’d think he was doing it just to get a rise out of me.”
“So, why don’t you just tell him you want to go somewhere else?”
Mason stands and grabs his thick winter coat from the rack before shrugging it on. He is a handsome man, my boss, broad shoulders and a square jaw, if you like that kind of thing. Which I do. I can appreciate his appearance on an aesthetic level without it being at all inappropriate.
“Because he’s my baby brother and I love him. You should see how fucking excited he gets about food and trying new places. He can deconstruct an entire recipe in a few mouthfuls, then recreate it at home. Honestly, he’s like a wizard or something.”
I push my chair back, ready to leave with him. “Is he a chef?”
Mason appears to mull that over. “Yes and no. Not a trained chef, but he’s a better cook than anyone at any Michelin starred place I’ve ever been to. He’s entirely self-taught. He’s traveled the world and worked in restaurants all over, which means he’s picked up so many skills and dishes. His Moroccan lamb is to die for.” He lets out a dreamy sigh.
Now my own mouth is watering. I can almost smell the spices, taste the warmth. “Morocco is a beautiful place,” I say, also with a dreamy sigh, recalling the year I spent there before I returned to America and settled in New York. The mountains, the little villages, the gorgeous beaches, the welcoming people…and yeah. The food. It was an amazing place, and exactly what I needed after college. I pushed myself hard at school and took that time to unwind and figure out more about who I was and what I wanted for my life.
Maybe, bearing in mind our conversation, I should still be figuring that out.
“You’ve been there?” Mason asks. “I thought you were from Chicago?”
“I am. But there is an airport in Chicago, Mason.”
He flashes a mischievous grin like he’s about to banter with me. He loves to joke about people from Chicago being lesssophisticated than people from New York. But our conversation is interrupted by a knock at the door.
“That’ll be him now,” Mason says, lighting up in a smile before he calls for his brother to come in. Seeing that genuine happiness shining from him makes me miss my own siblings. I promise myself I’ll touch base with them later, catch up on what’s going on in their worlds.
I’m curious to meet another James brother, and glance at the door as it swings open. Are any of them less than a ten, I can’t help wondering.
