yourself.”
Leslie rubbed her fingers together, her teeth flashing as she smiled.
“I’ve scored an interview with Caden Morning, the billionaire who’s parked his huge yacht at Marina Sam’s.”
“Oh poor you.”
“Yes, well I already promised Pablo we’d cover his event. We can’t blow him off.” Leslie winked at me. “Plus, he likes you.”
My lip curled.
“Please. He’s past fifty.”
I stroked my chin, then held my hands out to her, palms up.
“Why don’t you let me go interview Morning, he’s at least young and cute.”
Leslie’s brows twitched.
“He’s not that much younger than Pablo.”
I snorted in disgust.
Her eyebrows climbed her forehead.
“So you like billionaires?”
She does such a good job with her eyes. I love lipstick and eye shadow, but my thin brows have always been a challenge to get right. Thick defined the current style, and Leslie was born for the look.
I pointed a warning, making a finger gun and mouthing a silent, “ka-pow.”
We had a secret plan to strike it rich — starting with the tiny paper, The Key Times, her parents bought her as a graduation gift, we were going to build a web store for Sleepy Key. We planned to build an on-line marketplace to let people purchase vacation tours, rent condos, and buy goods from local shops. The unique hook was that we’d use the digital currencies that were taking off like hotcakes. But we need funding to realize our plans. We had tried offshoring the work to inexpensive developers, and we learned from that mistake.
We couldn’t accomplish our dream without professional help.
The Key Times had two employees now, and we were both more than full time. I didn’t have time to build a web-store when I’m was also the graphics department, the photographer, the one who keeps the site and the blog and the YouTube channel updated.
I Tweet for food.
“Please, Grace. We need to keep Pablo happy, but we also need to get some investment lined up.”
I’d known her all through college, where we’d become best friends after dorm-rooming together freshman year. Leslie had her, ‘I need you to do this for me,’ look on her face now.
“It’s one of his sales events. You know how I love those.”
She rolled her eyes at my attempt at sarcasm.
It’s not that I don’t like selling. Making money is a good thing. I was poor once. I still am, but back in high school and my first years of college I was ramen and fast food ketchup packets poor.
Now at least I can buy my own ketchup. Most of the time.
Leslie’s well-shaped brows drew together and her lips pressed together in a thin line.
“Come on, it’s not like we’re talking retail.”
“Pablo’s events are worse than retail. He’ll want me to put on a suit. He’ll want me to paddle around on his boards.”
I hunched in my chair, “He’ll want me to hand out drinks.”
Leslie puffed her lips like a parent making fun of a whiney child.
“His skinny sales girls will be wearing bikinis and looking much better than I can.”
“You got serious first world problems, girl.”
“Ha-ha,” I held my hands up to surrender.
Leslie Styles has her way with me again!
“OK, alright, I’ll go.
I looked at her through my half-full water glass. Covering the event would get me away from my computer, into the sunshine, and I’d have some free drinks.
Maybe even some exercise, though I didn’t plan to paddle very far.
five
“Grace, you have to help me get more people on the boards.”
When Pablo said that the words sounded like, “hafta hel’me.”
I swallowed and lowered the Pepsi bottle I’d been hiding behind like I was on the verge of drying up and blowing away. I could tell Pablo wanted me to ride a board up and down the beach and pretend like I was addicted to the sport.
A long time ago, I learned that Friday was named for the Norse love goddess. On Freja’s day, the beach at Sleepy Key starts getting crowded in the afternoon. People with
Leslie rubbed her fingers together, her teeth flashing as she smiled.
“I’ve scored an interview with Caden Morning, the billionaire who’s parked his huge yacht at Marina Sam’s.”
“Oh poor you.”
“Yes, well I already promised Pablo we’d cover his event. We can’t blow him off.” Leslie winked at me. “Plus, he likes you.”
My lip curled.
“Please. He’s past fifty.”
I stroked my chin, then held my hands out to her, palms up.
“Why don’t you let me go interview Morning, he’s at least young and cute.”
Leslie’s brows twitched.
“He’s not that much younger than Pablo.”
I snorted in disgust.
Her eyebrows climbed her forehead.
“So you like billionaires?”
She does such a good job with her eyes. I love lipstick and eye shadow, but my thin brows have always been a challenge to get right. Thick defined the current style, and Leslie was born for the look.
I pointed a warning, making a finger gun and mouthing a silent, “ka-pow.”
We had a secret plan to strike it rich — starting with the tiny paper, The Key Times, her parents bought her as a graduation gift, we were going to build a web store for Sleepy Key. We planned to build an on-line marketplace to let people purchase vacation tours, rent condos, and buy goods from local shops. The unique hook was that we’d use the digital currencies that were taking off like hotcakes. But we need funding to realize our plans. We had tried offshoring the work to inexpensive developers, and we learned from that mistake.
We couldn’t accomplish our dream without professional help.
The Key Times had two employees now, and we were both more than full time. I didn’t have time to build a web-store when I’m was also the graphics department, the photographer, the one who keeps the site and the blog and the YouTube channel updated.
I Tweet for food.
“Please, Grace. We need to keep Pablo happy, but we also need to get some investment lined up.”
I’d known her all through college, where we’d become best friends after dorm-rooming together freshman year. Leslie had her, ‘I need you to do this for me,’ look on her face now.
“It’s one of his sales events. You know how I love those.”
She rolled her eyes at my attempt at sarcasm.
It’s not that I don’t like selling. Making money is a good thing. I was poor once. I still am, but back in high school and my first years of college I was ramen and fast food ketchup packets poor.
Now at least I can buy my own ketchup. Most of the time.
Leslie’s well-shaped brows drew together and her lips pressed together in a thin line.
“Come on, it’s not like we’re talking retail.”
“Pablo’s events are worse than retail. He’ll want me to put on a suit. He’ll want me to paddle around on his boards.”
I hunched in my chair, “He’ll want me to hand out drinks.”
Leslie puffed her lips like a parent making fun of a whiney child.
“His skinny sales girls will be wearing bikinis and looking much better than I can.”
“You got serious first world problems, girl.”
“Ha-ha,” I held my hands up to surrender.
Leslie Styles has her way with me again!
“OK, alright, I’ll go.
I looked at her through my half-full water glass. Covering the event would get me away from my computer, into the sunshine, and I’d have some free drinks.
Maybe even some exercise, though I didn’t plan to paddle very far.
five
“Grace, you have to help me get more people on the boards.”
When Pablo said that the words sounded like, “hafta hel’me.”
I swallowed and lowered the Pepsi bottle I’d been hiding behind like I was on the verge of drying up and blowing away. I could tell Pablo wanted me to ride a board up and down the beach and pretend like I was addicted to the sport.
A long time ago, I learned that Friday was named for the Norse love goddess. On Freja’s day, the beach at Sleepy Key starts getting crowded in the afternoon. People with
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