Page 78 of Wicked Design
Chapter Twenty
Thousands milled around the convention center, today’s event packed with industry reps and the public.
A male voice boomed from speakers. “Azerial’s Gems, table thirty-five, is giving away ten sweetheart bracelets with semi-precious stones. Enter now. Drawing’s in two hours. Winners for Markson Brothers’ door prize, table sixteen, are…”
Slumped in her chair, her smartphone in hand, Clover scrolled through the upcoming BDSM conventions. The jerk who ran this one refused to announce her Clover Cuffs contest and made her take down the banner she’d Photoshopped. According to him, her image bordered on offensive. In whose world? The model wore more than most women did on Florida beaches and had her back to the camera, cuffed hands above her ass, no boobs or nipples showing. The vendor across from Clover hawked gaudy necklaces that dipped low on a woman’s chest. He’d hung supersize cleavage posters, and no one had bitched at him.
A swarthy man stopped at Clover’s table and eyed her wares.
She beamed. “Morning. Let me know if you have any questions.”
He pointed at the snake-eating-its-tail cuffs. “How many of these can you ship tomorrow?”
The one on her table, which was the only one she had. She tensed at a possible sale. “They’re available only on custom orders. That’s what makes Clover Cuffs unique. I can produce five in ten days. Order twenty or more and I’ll throw in shipping and handling. Half down due when you order, the other half upon delivery.”
He strolled away.
Clover considered running after him but couldn’t gather enough energy to stand.
Those passing by didn’t make eye contact with her. The few who glanced at her mancuffs wrinkled their noses.
She rearranged her table, putting the corny, romantic pieces up front. A few shoppers browsed her offerings, mostly middle-aged women. No one ordered or bought anything. One did take her business card.
Clover smiled. “Thank you. Have a great day.”
The woman lifted her foot and used the card to scrape something from her shoe. She held up the offending wad. Looked like gum. “Do you have a trashcan?”
Clover did. “Nope. Sorry.”
The woman put the dirty card on the table and checked out the next vendor.
Working retail or waitressing couldn’t be worse than this. At least those jobs came with lousy benefits and some pay. In order to cover costs for convention fees, travel expenses, a substandard motel room, shitty food, what she laid out for materials, the business cards and the banner, Clover had to sell several large pieces plus countless smaller ones. Making a profit wasn’t even in the equation.
Desperate, she put on her wraparound music jewelry and tat bracelet, modeling them.
Hundreds streamed by, ignoring her.
The voice returned. “Tasmania’s Treats, table four-seventy, is offering a free ankle bracelet to the first twenty patrons.”
Time to get competitive and play the freebie game to draw people to her table. On tiptoes, she waved her arms, hoping to flag down the convention crewmember to request an announcement.
The staffer spoke into her walkie-talkie and glanced around the room, not noticing Clover.
She grabbed her business cards, slapped on a smile, and blocked whomever she could. “Hi. Do you like unique, one-of-a-kind jewelry?” She touched her wraparound piece and held up her arm, showing off the tat bracelet.
Humanity parted like the Red Sea and flowed past.
She held up her flower designs and targeted an older woman who couldn’t flee too quickly. “Pretty, huh? Perfect for bridesmaids’ gifts or for that cherished granddaughter who wants something special to wear to her first dance.”
“That is lovely.”
Clover’s pulse jumped at the nice compliment. “And only fifteen dollars. Order ten or more, and the price drops to twelve apiece. I also ship for free.”
“So affordable. Unfortunately, I have only grandsons. Do you know where the restrooms are?”
“To the left.” Clover pointed. “Please tell your friends.”
“About the restrooms?”
