Lexi examined the scraps of paper that hung on the wall and tore them all down, shaking her head. “We need to go back to the beginning. Let’s start fresh. Forget the old campaign, put it out of your mind. It’s dead to us. What do we know about him?”
“He’s young, hip, good looking?” He turned to Lexi who nodded in agreement. “His stuff is edgy, mysterious, and classically rebellious.”
Lexi stopped jotting things down and mulled that over. “Explain classically rebellious to me.” She jumped to her feet and tapped her pen on her hip as she listened to the smooth sound of Vincent’s voice.
“Well, he’s pushing the envelope. His stuff is reminiscent of James Dean with a Rebel Without a Cause kind of vibe, but modernized, don’t you think? The way he weaves old elements with new.”
Lexi abruptly stopped walking. “Old and new … weaving old with new!” She ran over to his desk and wedged herself between his chair and his computer. She quickly Googled James Dean and pulled up a few classic pictures of him from the fifties. “Keep talking.” Lexi turned the screen so he would have a clear view.
“I don’t know. I’m not a fashion guy.”
Lexi rolled her eyes. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, and she continued to surf the net until a coy smile danced across her face. Music began pouring out of the computer speakers.
“What the hell is that?” Vincent asked.
Lexi pressed her slender finger to her lips, which curved up into a triumphant smile. Impatiently, Vincent listened to the song. He had never heard it before, but could pick up a familiar melody running behind the lyrics. He furrowed his brow and asked, “Is that the melody to …”
“It’s a classic song, with a new edge to it.” Lexi nodded her head. “This was all over the radio eighteen months ago.” She quickly pulled up four more songs in which the artists took the hook or the melody from a classic song and put their own twist on it. A light bulb went off in Vincent’s head.
“Weaving old and new.” Vincent was on his feet, running his hand through his hair as he stared out his window at the illuminated San Francisco skyline. “I can see the campaign. We use classic songs—Beatles and the Rolling Stones, of course,” he turned and winked at Lexi, “in the background for the music. We can even do album covers plastered all over the backdrop of the photo shoot.” Vincent’s voice was excited, confident as he came to stand beside Lexi, who had moved into his desk chair and curled her legs underneath her as she listened, quickly taking notes.
“What if we took it further?” Lexi suggested. Vincent stopped walking and waited for her to continue. “Somehow spin the line and say that it’s so classically modern that his pieces can be mixed and matched with those timeless pieces from your wardrobe—like the white T-shirt, the jeans, the leather jackets, the little black dresses—to make something old new again, just like these songs.”
Vincent ran his palm along his stubbled jaw, thinking. Lexi watched as his head slowly started to bob up and down until he was nodding in agreement. “It’s a risk, though, having us suggest that the public doesn’t need to buy a whole Julian Stone outfit. His people might not like it.”
“How many people do we see walking the streets looking like they are a head-to-toe ad for Chanel or Gucci? It looks lame, like they’re trying too hard. One piece of Julian Stone clothing mixed with something from your own wardrobe says knowledge of fashion. Wear the clothes; don’t let the clothes wear you.”
“I know what you’re saying, but I think we’ll still catch flack from his reps.”
Lexi stood up and stretched her arms over her head, trying to unknot the muscles of her back and shoulders. “Then we just have to make it so damn good that Julian falls in love with it and tells his people to go take a hike if they don’t like it.” As she extended her arms, her shirt crept up, and she felt a cool breeze as a tiny sliver of her abdomen was exposed.
She glanced over at Vincent to see him with a dazed, far away expression. “Vincent? Did you hear what I said?”
“No, sorry. I was thinking about something else.”
Lexi’s face dropped. “I was just trying to help. If my idea was off base, I apologize. You’re the VP, I’ll be quiet.”
Vincent went over to the desk and placed his palms in the center of it, leaning across the surface until his face was inches from hers. “You know that you’re utterly ridiculous, right? Your idea was great. I love the spin. Yes, it will be a little bit tougher to sell, but I can do it.” He paused, his eyes darkening and becoming more intense as he stared at her. “You are an amazing woman, Alexandra White. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.
Not even me.” His lips slowly curled up into a teasing smile.
They spent the next three hours outlining the proposal and framing the mockup of the ads. Shortly after midnight, they moved down to the productions room to construct the layouts for the large presentation boards. Vincent blasted classic Beatles and Rolling Stones tunes through the workstation for inspiration, but Lexi knew it was also to keep them awake as the night drew on.
A few hours later, Lexi salvaged what she could of the original PowerPoint presentation and made the necessary changes while Vincent worked on the presentation boards and materials at the drafting table. He was also sending E-mails in an effort to get permission to use the album covers, not only in the presentation, but also for the potential campaign. He meticulously organized the graphics packet, making sure it portrayed the same classically rebellious vibe they were going for with the presentation. He glanced over at Lexi when he heard her singing along to the song that was playing. Her head bobbed in beat with the music, her ponytail whipping from side to side in a playful way. As he waited for the packet to be finished, he strode over to the computer to check on her.
Lexi was cutting and pasting the new bullet points into the presentation when she felt him lean over her shoulder, his hand resting on the desk
beside the keyboard as he peeked over her shoulder to see the screen.
“You missed the ‘s’ here.” His arm reached around her, his much larger body surrounding hers for a second. She was tired and wanted to lean her head back against his chest and settle into the warmth of his arms. Sleep deprivation only fueled her already overactive imagination. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and made the correction. His body shook with a deep rumble of laughter behind her.