“If that’s what they’re using to judge me then they can go to hell, and frankly, so can you.”
Okay, he was more combative than I anticipated. It was literally just clothes, it wasn’t life and death. There was no need for all this back-and-forth and there was no need for him to be so sensitive. He had said himself that he was more than what he decided to put on his body. For someone who didn’t want to be defined by the way that he dressed, he sure was defensive about it. I took a deep breath. “You don’t want your company to stall in progress because you can’t dress.”
“Lucky me, our clients don’t care about that,” he said.
“Easy, come on,” Toby said.
“Unbelievable. You wouldn’t put on a suit, even if it was for the good of your company?” I asked.
“I don’t have to. My products do the talking.”
“I thought you were open to giving this a shot.”
“Yeah, before you suggested getting rid of everything I know and making me look like him,” he said, motioning at his colleague. Toby was dressed quite well, I didn't see a problem with that. In fact, I knew that the shoes he was wearing were off the runway. They were polar opposites in their style. Toby was clean-cut and dashing, suited and booted and looking expensive. Meanwhile, Easton looked like Toby’s ‘before’ picture, preceding an extreme makeover. My mind was doing extensive gymnastics trying to figure out how the two of them knew each other, much less maintained any kind of relationship.
“I never said any of that.”
“Whatever. I’m not interested regardless.” The men were different, that much was obvious at first sight, but Toby had taken strides to be polite and accommodating to me while Easton had done nothing but spar with me. They were different in more ways than were blatantly apparent and the taste I had gotten of Easton’s true colors had left a sour taste in my mouth. That little bit of open-mindedness for the process that he had promised initially was gone. I couldn’t work like this.
“I suppose I’m of no use to you then,” I said. I stood.
“Missy, please wait,” Toby said. He got out of his seat and turned on Easton.
“Easton, fucking apologize.”
“The woman wants to leave, let her leave,” he said, looking up at me. He didn’t look smug. There was still a challenge in his eyes. He was telling me to try stay and fight him. I was going to lose. I wasn’t in the habit of wasting my time on people who neither wanted nor appreciated it. Someone else was going to have to be my first male client.
“I can’t work with someone who has said in no uncertain terms that they weren’t interested in changing. Thank you both for your time. Have a nice day.” I turned on my heel and walked out.
5
Easton
It was a shame that she was leaving, but I loved watching her walk away.
“Fuck,” Toby said. He leaned back in his chair and let his head fall back.
“Too bad she had to leave. I liked her,” I said. His head popped back up and he glared at me.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” he asked.
“Me? She’s the one who walked out of here before we had a chance to get anything done.”
“Don’t play fucking dumb. You told her to leave, Easy.” He signaled for a server to come to our table. Were we still eating? The meeting was over, why were we still here?
“I don't see what the big deal is.”
Toby put in his order, not for food, but for whiskey. A double. Okay. I could kind of see what the problem was. Toby didn't typically drink during the day. He was upset about the meeting. We hadn't given the woman any money yet, so this wasn't a loss. We had a meeting to figure out whether we would be able to work well together, and we figured out that we would not work well together. Sounded productive to me.
“If it bothers you that much, I’ll wear a fucking button down to the next meeting. Okay?”
“Why don't you take anything seriously?”
“I take serious things seriously. You wanted me to sit here and pretend like a meeting about my fashion sense was serious?”
“It is serious.”
“Please. It’s one fucking step above discussing what color your shit was last night.”