Desperately Seeking Epic(32)
“The guys are paid to jump,” I pointed out as I followed her into the office after the meeting had concluded. She plopped her notebook on the table and started fingering through a stack of papers.
“And this office as a whole is the first impression. It looks awful. This is where they work and asking them to help out one night is not that much to ask.”
“We can hire painters,” I protested. “Or you can call your little friends to come back and help you.”
She laughed, ignoring my dig. “No, we can’t. We need to save as much money as we can for advertising.”
“We have a budget for that.”
“Not a big enough one.”
“Look,” I affirmed. At the sound of my tone, she stopped shuffling through the papers and gave me her undivided attention. “Painting the office and making it look “pretty” isn’t going to do shit. People come here to jump. For the experience. Not for pretty-colored walls and comfy couches. This isn’t a f*cking showroom.”
“It’s funny you think the experience is solely the jump. Yes,” she agreed, “the jump is the biggest part, the finale, but it’s not everything. We can give our clients, from start to finish, an incredible day starting with entering a clean, well-managed office with a friendly staff.”
“What the f*ck is wrong with the staff?” I huffed. “We have a friendly staff,” I argued.
She scoffed at me. “You have Marcus playing pranks on paying customers, Sap eye-f*cking anything with tits, and you with shitty manners.”
Damn. She was crass.
I shook my head and groaned in annoyance. “Tell me something, sweetheart. You say we’re doing all of this wrong, yet somehow we make a profit. Explain that.”
She walked up to me, inches away, and put her hands on her hips. “Luck.”
I took a step toward her, so our faces were merely an inch or two away. That was a bad move. She smelled incredible, and how had I not noticed before that her eyes had little flecks of green in them? “Um. Well, it’s working.”
“Did you know there are three other skydiving businesses in Virginia?”
“I am aware,” I mumbled, narrowing my eyes at her. “What’s your point?”
“Do you know what your referral numbers are?”
“Not off the top of my head.”
“Based on the website bookings alone, where a majority of your jumps are scheduled, they can enter how they heard about us, and referrals are only at two percent. That . . .” She gave my chest a hard poke, “Is shameful.”
My blood pressure was rising. “We work our asses off here. And we’ve made it work. Dennis built this business from the ground up.”
“Paul,” she snapped. “I don’t give a shit about who did what or how they did it. I see a business with potential to grow, to profit more. Are you really going to complain about the possibility of making more money?”
“No,” I argued. “I’m complaining about working with a goddamned tyrant. You’re set to suck all the fun out of this place.”
“Painting some walls and replacing some furniture is not sucking the fun out of anything. Expecting everyone employed here to be polite and do their job is exactly that . . . their job!”
I threw my hands up. “Fine. Do what you want. I’m out.”
“You’ll be here Sunday, won’t you?”
Giving her a bogus Army salute, I sarcastically said, “Sure thing, Sergeant.” What was this chick smoking? There wasn’t any way anyone could have misinterpreted what I was really saying, but just in case, I added, “If you want to paint this place, fine. But I’m not spending my night off doing it.”
Shaking her head, she turned away from me, and I left. I hadn’t realized after our meeting the entire staff was still sitting in the front office, listening to every word we’d said. A few whistled and clapped as I stormed out. I wasn’t sure I liked that. I didn’t think Clara fit, and I didn’t want her for a partner, but at the same time, she was my partner and these people were her staff. I had just said I wouldn’t be there Sunday, and now they thought they wouldn’t have to be there either. Looking back, I wish I would have said something to them, but Clara got under my skin. So, I let them treat her badly. I let them disrespect her. Maybe she’d leave if she saw they hated her.
Ashley stares at me, her expression stoic.
“Not my proudest moment,” I admit.
“No, I would hope not,” she agrees quietly. Mills excuses himself and makes his exit. Lucky bastard.
Shame floods me. I was a young, stupid man. But I guess it doesn’t matter that I’ve matured . . . well, mostly.
“Well, I think that’s all for today. Same time next week?” Ashley asks.
Fuck it. Why not? “Yeah, sounds good.”
I shut the door behind me as I leave the office, letting Zane and Ashley clean up. I’m halfway down the hall when I hear Neena giggle.
“They’re playing at the National next month.”
“I love Masters of the V,” Neena gushes as I round the corner into the front.
“Yeah, they’re one of my favorites, too,” Mills tells her. They’re sitting on the love seat, sharing a set of earbuds and staring at Mills’ iPhone. Well, Neena seems to be staring at Mills while he stares at his phone.