Lunar Love (25)

If they raise money, they’re going to be able to grow fast. Put us out of business fast. I fume quietly. The blatant disregard for Lunar Love is infuriating. Bennett may come off as a decent person who’s incapable of stealing ideas and faking ignorance, yet in every interview, he comes off as overconfident and tactical. I need more information about this pitch.

I remember that he works in a coworking space downtown. I start a new text message to Bennett.

I just wrapped up a meeting in downtown. Have time to say hi?



It’s worth a shot.

While waiting for him to respond, I do another lap around the block. When Bennett sends me his coworking space address, I fast-walk over three blocks.

“Hey,” Bennett says when he meets me downstairs, “this is a nice surprise.”

“I was just in the area,” I say casually. “This is your coworking space, huh? I’ve never been inside a start-up’s office before.”

“Is that your way of asking to see it?” he asks.

“Do I want to see it? Sure, my schedule’s wide open,” I say, pretending to look at my phone’s calendar but instead scrolling through images of Pinot.

Bennett hesitates outside the building. “We’re pretty busy. I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

I look past his shoulder, exaggerating my movement. “What are you, a supervillain? You hiding something up there?”

He looks dramatically from side to side to make sure no one’s listening. “I’ve got a couple of blueprints and top-secret codes that are for my eyes only.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone what I witness or hear.”

He sighs. “Okay, come on,” he says, finally agreeing.

Three levels later, we’re winding our way through narrow hallways in the coworking space. Bennett gives me a brief tour as he shows me through the office. I peek into the spaces of other businesses, where two-person teams sit back-to-back speaking into headsets. I wonder if the businesses willing to pay more get the bright, sun-filled rooms closer to the building’s tall windows, printers, and kitchen area.

The ZodiaCupid headquarters looks more like a dim, oversized conference room where five desks are crammed against walls. It’s located in the back of the building that surely has never seen sunlight, about a mile from the common area.

In the room are four others who are eating lunch at their desks.

“This is Elmer. He’s in charge of development, growth, and payroll,” Bennett says, pointing to a man wearing bright red glasses. “And that’s Carrie, Christof, and Jingwen. They make up our design and engineering teams.” Everyone looks up from their monitors and simultaneously waves.

“That’s Carrie’s pup and our office mascot, Elvis,” Bennett continues, gesturing toward a sleeping bulldog who doesn’t seem to mind my presence.

“Clearly he runs a tight ship around here,” I joke.

“I blame him for the unpaid overtime. This is where I sit.” He gestures toward his astonishingly clean desk. So much for swiping any important documents.

“It’s not what I imagined,” I say, looking around trying to find something, anything, that will give me an indication for what they’re launching next. The only hint of Bennett in this space is the coral sweater from the baking class draped over his chair in a plastic dry cleaning bag. Not a speck of mooncake filling is left, all traces of Bennett’s nice gesture for me wiped away.

“I liked the look of the filling, but I started getting some weird stares so I had to have it cleaned,” Bennett says, catching me looking.

“Too bad. You pulled it off so well,” I joke.

“Can I know the real reason why I had to pay twenty dollars for dry cleaning?” he asks in a slightly amused, curious tone.

I straighten my shoulders, carefully thinking through my word choice. Colette was a former client, but I can’t tell him that. “She was someone I used to know a long time ago,” I share. There. Truthful and vague.

A flash of surprise crosses Bennett’s face. “She? So it wasn’t your ex-boyfriend, like you said?”

Great. My past lies have come back to haunt me. “No. It wasn’t. She was my best friend growing up. But we’re not friends anymore,” I admit.

Bennett nods in understanding. “Well, anytime you need an out, I’m your guy.”

I huff out a quiet laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind. This place is…sterile,” I quickly add, using the change of topics as an opportunity to take another good look at the place. It’s a plain, undecorated room strictly intended for business. No personality on the walls or desks, except one matte black electric kettle in the corner of the beverage nook.

“Yeah, it’s a bit gloomy, but hopefully we’ll be out of here soon. We’re participating in Pitch IRL to attract interested investors.”

Perfect. This is my opening. “Aren’t those highly competitive? How are you feeling about your chances?” I ask. “I thought you’d already have the ins.” Maybe he’s not as seasoned of an entrepreneur as the media claims him to be.

“It’s not how I’d normally go about it, but a local college is hosting the event so business students can watch and learn how to pitch. They asked if we wanted to be involved, and it was hard to turn down. I would’ve loved to attend something like that when I was in school. I even got some of my investor buddies and former business partners to be involved for the Q and A at the end.”