The Fastest Way to Fall(12)

He sauntered in and called over his shoulder, “You’re going to love me. Eventually!”

Her response of “Unlikely” faded as Mason pushed the door closed, unfazed by Pearl’s disdain.

“We have a problem. HottrYou just launched their new campaign.” Mason slid his tablet, where the website for our biggest competitor loaded, across my desk, and he tapped a video.

A deep voice spoke as the screen slowly filled with fitness models in bathing suits. “There’s a hot body in all of us. We’ll help you unlock it. But no two bodies are the same—how do you know where to focus? We can help. HottrYou team members will work with you to create a plan. Your hot body is ready to meet the world. Let us help you show it off.”

“This is the first time they’re promoting coaches even though we heard rumors they were looking into it.” Mason’s summary was unnecessary. “How do you and Cord want to play this? You’ve never wanted to hit below the belt with them, but . . .” Mason pointed to the screen again, his words hanging in the air.

“Do we need to respond? They’re pitching something different from us—this is all about physical appearance. Nothing about health.”

“I think you’re giving consumers too much credit. We know it’s different—to most people, it doesn’t sound different. We could launch a counter ad—a play on theirs that’s subtle. Or we push that we already do this. Do we have enough coaches available to handle an influx?”

I shook my head. We were having trouble getting enough qualified people to fill the positions, so I wondered where Kelsey was finding staff.

“If you eased back on the standards, we could recruit more people.” He’d already made this point repeatedly behind closed doors. “HottrYou is recruiting, no experience necessary.”

“We hire people with training, experience, or degrees. In a perfect world, all three.”

Cord pushed through the door, breathless. “I got your text. What’s going on?”

I thumbed over Mason’s tablet while he explained the situation to Cord. The recruitment ad for their HottrYou Buddies—what a stupid name—advertised no experience necessary.

“I was just telling Wes that if we lower our standards for coaches—”

“No go.” Cord didn’t look up from his screen. “Clients could get hurt, and we could get sued. It’s not worth it.”

Mason squared his shoulders, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. We’d been round and round on this issue. “Okay. Well, we have to do something. They’re coming for us.”

Cord set down his phone and gnawed on the side of his thumbnail. “Can we do nothing and just let it play out?”

Mason gave us both a deadpan expression. “Their message is that everyone can be hot. Ours is that everyone can be healthy. Theirs is better.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Can you put together options we can discuss? I don’t want to start a war with Kelsey.”

“She already started it, man.” Mason tapped something on his phone, probably marching orders to his small team. He stood but paused before opening the door. “We’ll have ideas by end of day.”

I pounded my fist into the desk a few times. “I can’t believe she’s adding coaches.”

Cord met my gaze across the room. “She’s competitive. I’m surprised it took this long. You think this is what she’s been calling about?”

I ignored his question. “She’s hiring unqualified people.”

Cord ran his fingers through his surfer blond hair and puffed out his cheeks before releasing a slow exhale and eyeing me skeptically when I silenced my buzzing phone. “Her?”

I didn’t need to look at the screen to know I didn’t want to answer. “No.”

“All right, let’s see what Mason’s team comes up with.” Cord stepped into the hall with a two-finger wave. “You need to call her back. Think about it.”





9





VIEWED BY DRASTORE AND 435 OTHERS


“It’s my first live post, and today I’m getting personal. Real talk. Exercise and big breasts don’t always go together. Now, I love my boobs, but sometimes they get in the way. Of what? Get ready. I have a list.


“For starters, buttoning shirts. The shirt gap is real unless you keep a stash of clothing tape and safety pins handy. Also, eating. This might just be me, but rarely do I finish eating anything without needing to fish at least a few remnants out of my bra or brush them off my chest.


“Then walking through a crowd. Squeezing past other people inevitably means dragging my chest against them. Sounds sexy? It’s not. Now it’s time for me and my boobs to go to the gym. Hit me with your sports bra recommendations. I’m going to need them.”



In theory, the open-office concept meant collaboration, communication, and creating a work family. The reality was Jordan’s breakfast burrito, Kari’s designer dog podcast, and Leigh’s hacking cough invading my space. I want walls. I read through my research on independent bookstores for one of the writers and hit send. Most of my days were spent in front of my computer gathering information and fact-checking, reviewing pieces, and whatever else Maricela or the other editors needed. I glanced around the office space, the same familiar faces hunched over the keyboard or chatting at workstations. I plugged in my earbuds, opened my laptop, and pulled up the thread between me and Wes.