Page 26 of Faking It
“I don’t think you’ll be able to pull it off.”
“Just when I thought you were trying to make nice with me . . . ”
“Look, Zane, you’re approaching this all wrong and it shows.”
“You’re something else, you know that?”
“You’re looking at this as a business to make money”—she says, completely ignoring me—“not something that can change people’s lives.”
“You don’t even know me. We’ve only met three times.”
“I’ve seen enough to know that this is a casual entity for you. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is off and it’s more than just the fact that this is out of your wheelhouse. You invest in tech. In business. You’ve never dabbled in something like this.”
“Someone’s been doing their homework.” I hate and I love the fact that she has all at the same time.
“I have. I need to understand the person I’m working for. Any smart businessperson would do the same.”
So much more than just a pretty face . . .
“And you don’t think I can pull off promoting it because why?”
“Because this seems to be a game to you. You’ve invested all this time and money in something that according to Robert, the beta test group has raved about and found success with . . . and yet, you seem so clinical and cavalier about it.”
“Businesses often are clinical.”
“And that attitude will shine through to the consumer. We could fake a relationship until the cows come home, but if you don’t believe in us or the product, they’ll see right through it.”
“So your psychic now, are you? Able to see what a disaster I’ll be before I even get started?”
“Maybe I’m wrong . . . but I’d hate to be right.” She falls silent, and I just stare at her picture on my screen and hate that every part of me knows she’s got a point. Not that I’d ever admit it.
“That’s such a crock,” I say.
“We’ll see about that. You know what they say about male pride, Zane?”
“What’s that?”
“It comes before every great downfall.” Her laugh fills the line, and it’s all I hear before she ends the connection without another word. But hell if she didn’t just lay down a challenge I have every intention of proving wrong.
I’ll do the damn promotional tour.
I’ll make every friggin’ single woman want to be on the platform so they can fall in love. Even the married ones.
Then I’ll tell her she was wrong.
Dead wrong.
Fucking contests.
They get me every time.
“I SNUCK SOME CONDOMS IN your suitcase, mija.”
“Jesus, Mother. What happened to keeping an aspirin between my knees?” I asked.
“Sometimes you gotta go for the gusto!”
“Something is seriously wrong with you,” I said through a laugh.
