Page 1 of Wrong Place, Wright Time
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Wrong Place, Wright Time
Isla
Swiping a layer of plum-colored lipstick over my mouth, I take a moment to assess my appearance in the bathroom mirror, wondering if my outfit is too plain or demure for where I’m going, which is a drag show in Midtown East. I've never been to one before, but I imagine wearing a pencil skirt and a cap sleeve blouse is a little too... board meeting for something that sounds so colorful and exciting.
With a side-to-side turn, I run my hand along the hem of the lilac silk on my blouse while I contemplate whether I want to tuck it into my skirt. There’s a drag queen in Australia who goes by the moniker,Karen from Finance.She’s hilarious and fun, and her entire demeanor seems to light up a room despite the corporate theme of her character. If I were a drag queen, my name would beIsla from PR, and I’d be decidedly unfun since all I ever do in life is work, work, work then moan about needing to work so I can avoid going out to have fun.
I think my social skills are broken.
And it’s no wonder. It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date or done anything for the sake of enjoyment that I think I’ve forgotten how.
As one of the handful of children set to inherit theWrite Media Corporationwhen our parents retire, I'm expected to pull long hours at work learning every facet of running a company with interests the size of ours. My father and two uncles currently sit at the helm, and together they control the vast majority of information that the American people get fed each morning. We don't own all media, of course, there are plenty of alternative sources out there and other media groups who hold the rights to different channels, but we have enough of a monopoly that our reach is far and extensive.
That monopoly also means that the interests of many are governed by a bunch of old men who are so far out of touch with the current climate, that the only girl child in the family who works for the company can't stand to work even remotely close to them. I tried when I first finished college, but after months of sitting around the boardroom table being talked over and asked to top up coffees was enough for me.
So to save my sanity while also keeping my paycheck, I've sequestered myself a few floors down in the Public Relations department, because at least then I'm seen to be taking on an active role instead of just sitting in a massive corner office using my surname like a powerful sword to get my way.
You know, it's amazing what a well-timed, insinuating article can do to not only influence the public, but politicians too. It all feels a little bit dirty to me most days. But I do enjoy the money that comes with my station. I'm not going to lie about that. And when I finally get the chance to take over when my father retires, I get my chance to make some up-to-date changes to the way we do things. But until then, I keep my head down and my mouth shut. Especially since my big brother, Ash, was completely cut off for not falling in line—he chose to be an engineer instead of a junior VP.
Both Ash and our cousin, Tanner, turned their backs on Wright Media and were cut off from funds and cut out of wills because of it—not that it affected Tanner much because he has his own money after working for Wright Media for most of his career and making a name for himself in radio before he exited the company a few months ago, leaving a shit storm in his wake—and I don’t want that for myself. Call me a sellout, or even call me complicit. But I’m not giving up my ability to make a difference when I get to be in charge. Not when I’ve already waited this long and sacrificed two marriages along the way.
P.S. I’m only twenty-nine.
“Hmmm. Surely, I have something…flirtier to wear,” I say to my reflection as I let out a sigh, knowing that isn't true because my wardrobe consists of workwear, sweats and pajamas. I'm almost thirty years old and it seems I've already given up on life after two failed attempts at marriage in my early twenties. The first one was a reckless mistake, but the second time, I thought I was signing up for the fairytale. What I got was a Stephen King novel instead. I swore I’d never go back there. Walking down that aisle a second time was singularly the worst choice I’ve ever made in my life. And after an even nastier divorce, I’d rather be perpetually single then risk that nightmare again. I’ve spent the last few years avoiding men and relationships like the plague. But then, my brother introduced me to a man named Banks and suddenly it feels like my resolve is slipping.
Maybe I could dip my toe in the water for a moment, maybe even take a short swim and still manage to come out unscathed?
The drag queen we're going to see, Coco Monroe, is Banks’s cousin, and thanks to a connection the sweet girl my brother is datin, has with this drag queen, I found myself invited along on a group outing. I don’t get to see my brother a lot, so I jumped at the chance to spend some time with him and get to know this girl, Tahlia, he’s so keen on. But when Banks expressed an interest in going too, well, I more than jumped, I practically did a backflip, some star jumps and a belly flop. The man is…stunning.
I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a full-body reaction the first time I’ve met a man before. But when Banks turned that broad, confident smile and those warm, dark eyes my way, the only thing I could do wasgiggle.Oh, and flirt—something I haven’t done insolong. It's like we had a moment just between us where all the noise in the room disappeared and we were the only ones there. I came away from it feeling all warm and trying not to smile too much, but I’m so eager to see him again. Even if it’s just to see if I react to the bar owner the same way again.
Besides the fact that he’s tall, dark skinned and deliciously handsome, I also love the fact that he’s his own man. He owns a bar in the financial district calledBanked Up. It’s where all the wealthy Wall St brokers burn off some steam after a long day of trading other peoples’ money. Very up-market. Constantly busy. And the kind of place that takes more smarts than luck to make successful. Needless to say, I’m impressed from the get go. And what I liked even more was that if he knew who my family is, he gave no indication. So, for once in my life, I’m going into an evening with a man without trepidation, because while money makes men attractive, for a woman, it’s…different. In my experience, it made me a bit of a target. And I really, really,reallydon’t want to feel like that again.
My phone buzzes on the vanity, snapping me out of my tumultuous trip down memory lane and up river into Hopesville. I look to see a message from Ash light up the screen—Heading to the bar now.
Deciding I don't have time to second guess my outfit anymore, I tap out a quick,leaving soon,response and cap my lipstick, dropping it in my clutch. Then I spray a little perfume in the air and walk through it on my way to put on my heels and head out, taking the elevator to the lobby of my building.
“Ms. Wright,” the elderly concierge says, trying to keep his voice even. But there's no hiding the surprise in his tone.
I smile. “Unusual to see me out after dark, huh, Carl?” I say as I move toward him.
“It’s wonderful to see you out after dark, Ms. Wright. Someone so young shouldn’t spend all her time alone.”
I laugh. “You sound like my mother. Are there any cars about?”
“I'll call one around for you.” He touches the side of his earpiece and relays the message. “Enjoy your night.”
“Thank you, Carl.” With my heels clacking against the marbled lobby, I make my way to the revolving doors where the doorman greets me by name and gestures to the already waiting town car. Carl is excellent at his job and seems capable of producing anything you need out of thin air. This is why the man has a beautiful Rolex on his wrist. People will tip a man well for consistently coming through for them.
“Where to, miss?” the driver asks as I slide in.
“Banked Up,” I instruct, sitting back against the gray leather seat with a happy sigh.
“Right away. Will you need a return car, miss?”
A soft smile tugs at the corners of my lips as the image of Banks smiling at me fills my mind and that little ball of maybe gets bigger. “I'm not sure,” I say, looking out the window. “I think I might just see where tonight takes me.”
