Come As You Are(7)
And there goes my idea.
“That’s a great plan,” I say with a forced smile.
“What about you?” he asks innocently, since he doesn’t know he picked my idea.
“Guess you’ll all just have to wait and see.” I rub my palms together, moving on. “Now, let’s review the final tweaks in Haven.”
“No one can come close to Haven.” Carson walks us through the updates he’s made to the automation system that’s rolling out next week. “Haven is far better than anything else on the market. And it’s absolutely better than ShopForAnything,” he says, meeting my gaze. There’s a touch of nerves in his eyes, and I get it—I feel them sometimes too. Our newest competitor is merciless, and I have to guard our company from its pending ambush.
I can’t fail because I have hundreds of employees depending on me to succeed, people counting on me for paychecks, for jobs, to make sure the company doesn’t become ShopForAnything’s cornflakes.
I won’t let us fail. I’m well aware that while I might be fine and dandy in the nest-egg-for-generations department, I have people who rely on me for their daily bread. What motivates me every day at work isn’t making more money to pad my coffers. It’s building something new and taking care of the people who make it possible.
“And you’re ready to roll out the marketing plans on a wide scale?” I ask Jennica.
“We are going to market this like Christie’s marketed the holy hell out of that lost da Vinci. That was genius. Advertising, PR, videos—the works. And, go figure, but for some reason”—she points at me and rolls her eyes—“people seem to like you, so we’re going to market the hell out of you. The secret weapon of the boy-next-door genius.”
I laugh it off. The attention is still weird to me. “Recap the plans for me.”
She spreads her hands like a movie director making a pitch on Sunset Boulevard. “You have the morning shows booked where you’ll demonstrate all the cool aspects of Haven, and we also have magazine features lined up that’ll reach some high-end consumers.” She twists her index and middle finger together. “And I have Up Next interested in a potential in-depth feature on you, and how you made the change from your first business to this one. I’ll know soon if it’s a go.”
The mention of the prestigious magazine makes me sit a little straighter. That publication is the holy grail when it comes to feature profiles. “That would be quite a coup.”
“Your assistant has all the others in your calendar, and she’ll be sure to tell you what color shirt to wear when you’re on TV,” she says with a wink.
I give her a thumbs-up. “Good. Because fashion is hard for me,” I say, deadpan, since clothing is no laughing matter, which may explain why my wardrobe consists of jeans, pullovers, and the occasional business button-down that my sister picked out for me. Without her help, I’d be lost.
I head to my office, and I’m tackling some of the items on my to-do list when my assistant, Whitney, pops in. “Hi. I have all the name tags for your costume for the masquerade party tomorrow night. Do you want me to google popular names and mix them up with weird and bizarre ones?”
I drag a hand through my thick brown hair. “Nope.”
“You’re going to do it yourself?” she squeaks. Whitney’s voice is naturally high-pitched—she almost always sounds surprised. This time, though, it seems legit.
“Why don’t you give the name tags to Carson? I need a whole new costume. Any ideas?”
She taps her lip then blurts out, “A headless horseman. You’d totally be in disguise.”
I cringe at the image as Whitney nods enthusiastically, delighted horror in her eyes. “That would be a fantastic costume. You could be totally hidden under a creepy cloak. It would be so scary and gross.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m going to pass on the bloody stump for a head.”
But I do need a kick-ass costume. Something that makes people think. That reminds them that I’m at the top of the game. Something as clever as ID theft.
As I review a set of proposals from hot young start-ups, the new costume idea descends into my brain, fully formed and entirely entertaining.
Surely, everyone will get it.
*
After work, I do a little shopping for the costume then head to the racquetball club to take my mind off work for a bit.
My sister, Olivia, joins me, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, her game face on. “Get ready for me to crush you and crush you quickly, because I have plans tonight.”
“Got a hot date?”
She looks at me. “Yes, with my six-month-old. It’s called breastfeeding, and she’s going to be hungry in about an hour.”
“Glad to hear you still know how to party. How is my perfect niece?”
She points her racket at me. “Zoe is awesome, even though her uncle is being a pain in the ass for saying I have no life.”
“Teasing.” I grab a ball and bounce it. “Although, clearly you have no life if you’re hanging out with a guy like me.” I lower my goggles, lift the ball, and smash it toward the wall.
“I’m not teasing when I say I’m going to kick your pain-in-the-butt ass.” As the ball rockets to her, she slams it back.