Page 7 of No Match Found
The Affection Puffs had turned out decently, though. Not quite as firm as LoveSacs, maybe, but they did the job and gave Matchify a cool startup vibe that I was constantly putting at risk with my orderly, black-and-white-loving soul.
“Hear ye, hear ye!” Brooke said loudly, pounding her fist on her Affection Puff. “This official meeting of the Founding Five has been called to order by none other than Her Majesty, Vivian West.”
I tossed the heart-shaped stress ball next to my Affection Puff at her, and she ducked.
It rolled toward Katie, who picked it up and squeezed it. “How’d the interview go?”
“Thefirstinterview, you mean?” I asked.
Three pairs of brows went up.
“First?” Brooke repeated. “As in part of a sequence?”
I nodded. “He’s coming back tomorrow. And the next day.”
“What is this, a Dateline special?” Katie asked. “It seems excessive.”
Brooke covered her face with her hands. “I’d been hoping for a puff piece with rainbows and fluffy, soft cloud vibes—and maybe some baby animals.”
“Grant Wilder hates baby animals,” I replied.
“He does?” Brooke and Jackie said at the same time.
I shifted. “Probably.”
“It went that bad, huh?” Katie was always to-the-point.
I crossed my heels and folded my arms, grateful to be able to unwind a bit. For the next twenty-three hours. “Almost, but it’s no thanks to him that it wasn’t a total dumpster fire.”
The door opened, and Nick slipped in, slightly winded. “Sorry! What’d I miss?”
“Life passing you by,” Katie said under her breath.
I shot her a flat look, but I couldn’t blame her toomuch. She’d been very conspicuously left off the guest list at Nick’s wedding.
“The guy from Threadline gave Viv the third degree,” Jackie said, tapping away on her laptop, “and he’s coming back for more—twice.”
Nick’s brows shot up as he lowered himself into an empty Affection Puff. “Can’t you just decline?”
“Yeah,” I said, “if I want to risk things with Vantive. They were the ones who facilitated it—and they’re watching for the piece ‘with interest.’ Besides, my pride is involved now.” Cancelling the rest of the interviews would be tantamount to crying mercy.
“We could join the next two,” Brooke said. “Moral support.”
I shot her a look with a cocked brow. “Your last show of moral support wasn’t particularly helpful.” I reached over, grabbed the stress ball, and chucked it at Cam.
The ball nailed him in the shoulder, and he tipped backward, but the wall caught him.
“Nice shot,” Nick murmured.
“Besides,” I said, “this guy is smart. He’ll see exactly what I’m doing if I’m suddenly surrounded by an entourage. He can smell fear.” I could already picture that knowing look.
“What do we know about him?” Nick tossed one of the stress balls into the air and caught it.
“Not much,” Brooke said, sounding more upbeat than before. She was always quick to bounce back. “He’s a senior staff writer at Threadline who chews up and spits out the companies he’s targeted.”
“We need more,” Katie said. “Gotta know your enemies.”
“Or,” Nick countered, “you could decidenotto go into things antagonizing him. You attract more bees with honey, right?”
