Page 80 of Snowed Inn

I step out and immediately take in the weathered wooden sign above the entrance to an empty storefront. It’s old. Faded. Like it used to matter to someone once, and now it’s just waiting for a second chance.

“Come on,” Jesse says, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

I follow him inside and take in the space. It smells like old wood and untapped potential. There’s a huge open area, an aging bar against one wall, and big stainless-steel brewery kegs visible through a glass-paneled back room.

“I talked to the former owner this morning,” Jesse says, his voice a little lower. “Trying to understand why it didn’t work.”

I nod. “Smart. A lot of new businesses don’t make it.”

“Yeah. Part of it was probably COVID.” He rubs the back of his neck. “The other part was marketing. I think he mostly relied on word of mouth.”

“Word of mouth is amazing if you can get enough of it from the right people,” I say, running my fingers along the bar’s countertop, picturing it polished and full of life. “But you have to create buzz to make more buzz.”

He turns to face me, his blue eyes sharp. “That’s actually why I wanted you to see this place.” He pauses. “Do you have any ideas?”

I blink again and a slow smile spreads across my face. “Do I have ideas? Jesse, I was born with ideas.”

He grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I’ve never done PR for a new bar before. That’s a little outside my usual wheelhouse.”

“Good.” He crosses his arms over his annoyingly broad chest. “That means you’ll be able to think outside the box.”

He’s not wrong. Thinking outside of the box is how I got some of my clients some major publicity. Like the time I scored a certain no-name actor a guest spot on a reality TV show and his career took off, or the time I managed to get a story in the Times about a client who was an up-and-coming chef. It’s all about the right words getting into the right ears or in front of the right eyeballs. I’m pretty handy with a press release. And then . . . then it takes a bit of kismet.

“I do love a challenge,” I tell him.

His mouth twitches, like he’s trying not to smile. I clear my throat. Then I step forward and turn around, taking in all four corners of the space. I let myself picture it. “I’m seeing a cozy space, lots of comfy booths along that wall.” I point. “Warm lighting, low music, and a mixology menu so good people don’t even care there’s no alcohol. A place where people can have a night out with friends without feeling like they have to drink to fit in. A place where even people who usually drink can enjoy themselves entirely sober.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” Jesse says. He’s watching me with a mixture of wonder and admiration in his eyes. I have to admit, it feels good. It reminds me of why I got into my profession in the first place. At the end of the day, PR is just storytelling. The medium is different than writing a book or making a movie, but the concept is the same. It’s turning an idea into something wonderful.

As if to underline the fact that I’m no longer thinking outside the box in my day job, my phone buzzes. Jesse presses his lips together and pretends like he’s zipping them and throwing away the key.

I lift a shoulder, make a little harrumph noise, and turn away to read the text.

Guess what? It’s Monica.

MONICA: turks and caicos is boring! we’re going to Aruba. we heard there’s better gambling there.

Ah, yes. More gambling. Always a good idea. And she’s sure to get a hotel room on New Year’s Eve. But instead of pointing this out to her, I simply reply, Good luck. And add a shamrock emoji.

Then I turn back to Jesse. “The idea for this bar is brilliant, truly.”

The hint of a smile plays across his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It could be huge.” I pause. “But . . . you’ll need a killer launch.”

“I know. I know.”

“And lots of buzz.”

He nods. “Which brings me to my next question for you. . . . How exactly do I create buzz?”

Oh, he’s about to be sorry he asked because my PR brain immediately kicks in. “Well, first, you should be talking about it more. Let people know what you’re doing, that you’re planning something big.”

He shrugs. “Okay.”

I slide my phone into my pocket and rub my hands together with glee. “You need to build anticipation. People need to be excited about what you’re doing.”