Found in You(21)

Now he brought his pen up to his mouth and bit on the already chewed end. Pen between his teeth, he asked, “How do you expect to draw people to book the rooms for that?”

“Marketing.” Obviously. That had been my emphasis area of my newly acquired MBA, and I was anxious to use it. It was what I had to offer the nightclub—my expertise. “We’ve never advertised those rooms to any specific market. They’re underutilized and wasted space compared to what they could be used for. And if we bundled the rooms in packages designed specifically for soon-to-be-married brides, I think we could really attract some attention.”

“Yeah, I see some potential.” Finally. “What’s your strategy?”

“I need some time to put it all together into a formal plan, but I’m thinking I could book some meetings with wedding planners. If I can offer a good deal, they’d tell their clients. Maybe we can give them referral bonuses or offer them a certain percentage of our booking fee as a kickback. But first we need to design some packages. Include some party trays and a certain dollar amount from the bar and we’ve got something to sell.”

Behind me, my phone beeped with an incoming text. It had died on my way to the club right after I texted Hudson my plans for the afternoon. Luckily I had a spare charger I kept in the office by the file cabinets and I’d plugged it in as soon as I arrived. “So what do you think?” I asked as I crossed to my phone.


“I think you’re onto something. Let’s do it.”

I grinned triumphantly before glancing down at my message.

“I’ve arranged the cook. Will you still be home for dinner?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I responded, his use of the word home making me as giddy as it had that morning.

“Pierce?”

David’s question broke through my euphoria. “Yeah, it’s Hudson.”

“Something good?”

I hadn’t realized I’d been smiling until then. “Everything good.”

Leaving the phone to continue charging, I returned to the chair I’d been sitting in. “I’m meeting him for dinner. Don’t worry, I’ll be back by the time my shift starts.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about changing your schedule.” David stood and came around the front of the desk, leaning on the corner. “I promoted you so that you could do this kind of stuff. We have enough managerial coverage. If we need someone else—which I’m sure we will if your plans work out like I know they will—Sasha’s ready to be a manager. Your gift, what you bring to The Sky Launch, is your business ideas. I need you to go work magic. That’s not my department.”

“So,” I furrowed my brow, “what are you saying?”

“I’m saying make your own schedule. I need you on the clock forty hours a week—not a problem for you, you work addict—but you can put it in whenever you need it. Set up those meetings with the wedding planners. And I’d like to go forward with your idea of expanding hours and our services. That’s going to take a lot of daytime planning as well. You’ll need to meet with cooks and additional staff. It’s going to be a lot of work.”

It felt like my eyes were going to pop out of my head. “Seriously? I mean, seriously do all that amazing stuff and make my own hours?” This was my dream job coming to fruition. All the hours of fighting with my brother Brian about wasting my education and the job opportunities I’d turned down with Fortune 500 companies—this made every doubt and heartache worth it.