three fingers. “Owns own business. Funny. Likes wine. I would say ‘How can you go wrong?’ but something clearly went wrong.”
She nodded. “So the guy walks in and sits down at the bar, then proceeds to order a glass of tap water because he doesn’t drink.”
“He ordered tap water at a bar ?”
“Oh yes. Plain, free , tap water. Nothing else.”
I scrunched up my face. “Not good.”
“Definitely not good. So then, we start chatting, and despite what the agency people have told me about him, he is not funny. He is the opposite of funny. He is Eeyore.”
I laughed. “Eeyore? From Winnie the Pooh ?”
She nodded. “He could make Debbie Downer look like the life of the party.”
“I could never understand why Eeyore was so sad all the time. Why was he so bummed out? I mean, Winnie the Pooh and Piglet and even Christopher Robin seemed fun to hang out with, right?”
She put her hand on my arm. “Focus, Waverly.”
“Oops, sorry.” I blinked and shook my head. “OK, I’m focusing. So he doesn’t drink, and he’s clinically depressed. What happened next?”
“So I’m sitting there drinking my wine while he drinks his tap water , and we get on the topic of our jobs.” She gestured to me and then back to herself. “I told him about Waverly’s Honey Shop and my other accounts.”
“OK…”
“So then he starts to tell me about his company , and it turns out that it has just one employee, which is of course…him.”
I nodded. “Ah, yes, a company of one. I know that scenario well.”
“Yes, but you don’t go around saying you own your own company, do you?”
I laughed. “Hardly.”
“So you want to know what his real job is?”
“I’m not sure I do.”
She put a hand on her heart and tried not to laugh. “He is, I kid you not , a magician.”
“A magician ?” Several people seated near us turned their heads.
“Shhh, you’re screaming.”
“A magician ?” I whispered. “You’re joking.”
She shook her head. “Totally not joking. Birthday parties, corporate events, hourly fee or flat rate, all prices negotiable.” She checked the services off on her fingers.
“You mean pulling rabbits out of a hat, cutting women in half, the real deal?”
She nodded. “I paid two hundred dollars to go on a date with a depressed magician who doesn’t drink.”
“You paid two hundred dollars ?” My voice went back up a few decibels.
She put her hand over my mouth and lowered her voice. “Waverly, seriously, keep it down.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “But two hundred dollars for one date? With a magician? That company is a joke.”
She nodded. “Totally.”
“You weren’t kidding about the dating scene in New York. I can see why you’re not so worried about Nashville or the kids.”
“Yep. I’d rather deal with kids in Nashville than a serial killer clown.”
I tilted my head to the side. “A serial killer clown?”
“Yes. I figure a depressed magician isn’t that far away from a serial killer clown, right? They’re definitely in the same family.”
“Good point. So is the trip to Vermont happening?”
She smiled. “Yep, the weekend before Christmas. Is that still when Andie’s coming?”
“I think so. Bummer.”
“Tell her not to get you into too much trouble. If even one photo of you dancing on a bar in your underwear turns up on Facebook, your Midwestern fans might turn on you , and that would be a disaster for Waverly’s Honey Shop.”
I saluted. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll try to remember that.”
• • •
The next day we had our meeting with the buyer at Bella’s Boutique. It went well, and like the woman from Jordan Brooke, she placed a big order to begin the first of January. Her favorite product was the Honey tote bag that said J UST S MILE . After she and Paige worked through the details, she asked me to pose for a photo with her, which once again, weirded me out. I was still struggling to figure out how to manage my new
She nodded. “So the guy walks in and sits down at the bar, then proceeds to order a glass of tap water because he doesn’t drink.”
“He ordered tap water at a bar ?”
“Oh yes. Plain, free , tap water. Nothing else.”
I scrunched up my face. “Not good.”
“Definitely not good. So then, we start chatting, and despite what the agency people have told me about him, he is not funny. He is the opposite of funny. He is Eeyore.”
I laughed. “Eeyore? From Winnie the Pooh ?”
She nodded. “He could make Debbie Downer look like the life of the party.”
“I could never understand why Eeyore was so sad all the time. Why was he so bummed out? I mean, Winnie the Pooh and Piglet and even Christopher Robin seemed fun to hang out with, right?”
She put her hand on my arm. “Focus, Waverly.”
“Oops, sorry.” I blinked and shook my head. “OK, I’m focusing. So he doesn’t drink, and he’s clinically depressed. What happened next?”
“So I’m sitting there drinking my wine while he drinks his tap water , and we get on the topic of our jobs.” She gestured to me and then back to herself. “I told him about Waverly’s Honey Shop and my other accounts.”
“OK…”
“So then he starts to tell me about his company , and it turns out that it has just one employee, which is of course…him.”
I nodded. “Ah, yes, a company of one. I know that scenario well.”
“Yes, but you don’t go around saying you own your own company, do you?”
I laughed. “Hardly.”
“So you want to know what his real job is?”
“I’m not sure I do.”
She put a hand on her heart and tried not to laugh. “He is, I kid you not , a magician.”
“A magician ?” Several people seated near us turned their heads.
“Shhh, you’re screaming.”
“A magician ?” I whispered. “You’re joking.”
She shook her head. “Totally not joking. Birthday parties, corporate events, hourly fee or flat rate, all prices negotiable.” She checked the services off on her fingers.
“You mean pulling rabbits out of a hat, cutting women in half, the real deal?”
She nodded. “I paid two hundred dollars to go on a date with a depressed magician who doesn’t drink.”
“You paid two hundred dollars ?” My voice went back up a few decibels.
She put her hand over my mouth and lowered her voice. “Waverly, seriously, keep it down.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “But two hundred dollars for one date? With a magician? That company is a joke.”
She nodded. “Totally.”
“You weren’t kidding about the dating scene in New York. I can see why you’re not so worried about Nashville or the kids.”
“Yep. I’d rather deal with kids in Nashville than a serial killer clown.”
I tilted my head to the side. “A serial killer clown?”
“Yes. I figure a depressed magician isn’t that far away from a serial killer clown, right? They’re definitely in the same family.”
“Good point. So is the trip to Vermont happening?”
She smiled. “Yep, the weekend before Christmas. Is that still when Andie’s coming?”
“I think so. Bummer.”
“Tell her not to get you into too much trouble. If even one photo of you dancing on a bar in your underwear turns up on Facebook, your Midwestern fans might turn on you , and that would be a disaster for Waverly’s Honey Shop.”
I saluted. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll try to remember that.”
• • •
The next day we had our meeting with the buyer at Bella’s Boutique. It went well, and like the woman from Jordan Brooke, she placed a big order to begin the first of January. Her favorite product was the Honey tote bag that said J UST S MILE . After she and Paige worked through the details, she asked me to pose for a photo with her, which once again, weirded me out. I was still struggling to figure out how to manage my new
Similar Books
