“I am. I meant two bottles.” The look she gives me is one I love and hate. It says she knows I’m joking, but that her little girl is all grown up and able to make choices—good and bad—on her own.
She shifts back to her seat on the couch. “Go, Low. What does it hurt? We could borrow a dress if you don’t have one. Get you all fancied up. Maybe even find you a new job. Who knows, maybe this is the event you need to find that one job that will launch the career you’ve been working so hard for. You just have to keep trying.”
“I have been trying.” I laugh but self-deprecation is loaded in its tone. “I’m just not getting any big breaks.”
“Victoria’s Secret was—”
“I did a catalog shoot. Just like so many others did. Hell, if go-sees paid, then I’d have no problem paying the bills. I’m going on all of them, just not booking any jobs. It seems curves are out and heroin chic is making a comeback.”
She tsks and shakes her head. I can already see her trying to figure out how to bear the burden of our bills. “I know your independence is important to you, but we could always move back in together until things look up. Between the balloon payment on your student loan coming due and the transmission going out in your car, you’ve been hit hard. I could help you. I could work extra shifts. I—”
“Thank you, mom, but—”
“Don’t let your pride get in the way, mija. I’d love having you back under my roof.”
I laugh and it feels good to. “Technically speaking, we are under the same roof.”
She squeezes my hand. “You know what I mean. Just say the word.”
“Thank you. I know you would . . . but I’ll figure it all out. Something will give soon.” I hope.
“What about pursuing the spokesmodel thing you used to talk about when you graduated? With your communications degree, your intelligence, and your ability to talk about anything, I’m sure that—”
“Spokesmodel jobs are even fewer and farther between than modeling jobs.” Frustration rings through my tone as I think of yet another week of ramen for dinner.
“You’re prettier and more talented than all those other girls trying to be noticed. . . the right person just has to see it.”
Spoken like a true mother.
“Thank you for believing in me . . . but I told you, maybe I’m just not cut out for modeling or show business. Maybe I should just drop out of the game.”
“Nonsense.” She places her hand over mine. “Sometimes the best things in life are a result of the unexpected. Zane doing what he did . . . maybe that was your unexpected. A sign, and you should see where it leads.”
“A sign, huh? Seems more like a warning.”
“ROBERT, MATE. SO GOOD TO see you again.”
“Likewise.” Robert reaches out and shakes my hand. He’s aged well for his eighty years. Hair is salt and pepper with more salt than anything, and his daily workouts that always seem to come up in each of our conversations have kept his grip firm and his body fit.
When a man considers investing millions of dollars in your company, you make a point to talk with him about whatever it is he wants to talk about. His daily workouts are one of them.
His wife is another.
“It’s quite the kick-off party you’ve organized,” he says and takes a sip of his gin and tonic.
“Isn’t that what we’d aimed for? Enough buzz to get people asking about it . . . but not enough to make people want to know more until we’re ready for the official launch?”
“You listened.” He nods and peers around the rooftop patio.
“I always listen, Robert.” I take a sip of my Bundaberg and Coke and motion to the scene in front of us.
It looks just how we talked about in our conversations. The terraced patio is strung with lights. Appetizers are being passed. Drinks are being poured at the two bars in opposite corners. My favors have been called in and the people who need to be here—the ones that tell Robert I’m in touch with this multi-million dollar industry—have arrived.
Yes, I’m playing the game. I’m wining and dining him and hoping his check will be written to me by the week’s end.
But what’s more important to me than his money are his connections. His unique experience consulting for other matchmaking platforms after he retired and his prolific background in public relations could help me get the visibility I need to launch this platform with a bang.
The man is a potential walking goldmine for SoulM8 and it has nothing to do with how deep his pockets are.
“And you have the AI program up and running? Are the glitches you encountered in the last run fixed?”
My low chuckle is a warning: hands off. “I told you, mate, leave the software, the AI, the implementation to me. All I need is your help with visibility. Your contacts with the media. Your schmoozing with the press to get us on air and in print.”
He eyes me, the warning not to overstep heard loud and clear. He lifts his eyebrows and takes a sip of his gin and tonic. “What about a spokesperson?”