Own the Eights: Own the Eights: Book One

by Sandor, Krista

  Perfect!

  She gasped as the elevator pinged their arrival to the twelfth floor and pulled her hand from his grip.

  “It’s a deal,” she murmured, darting between the barely open elevator doors.

  Holy Mary! Touching him was…a momentary lapse in judgment, right?

  But her trifecta wasn’t buying it. She could picture their skeptical expressions. It was time to bring out the big guns, aka her list. Her Own the Eights list. She needed to fall back on the advice she gave her followers every day. Think of the list and remember that good looks and great hair were scribbled out in permanent ink. She glanced over her shoulder at Jordan, a few paces behind her.

  He had great hair. Short, but not too short. His jet-black locks with just the hint of a curl were coiffed to perfection along with his five o’clock shadow, which often looked messy on most men, but really worked for him.

  “Gah! Stop!” she mumbled.

  “Yes, stop. We’re here,” he said with a grating edge to his voice.

  She turned to find Jordan standing by a door with the founders’ names stenciled into the frosted glass.

  “Oh, right. I was kind of in my head.”

  “And mumbling like a crazy lady,” he said, opening the door for her and found what looked like an adult Chuck E. Cheese.

  Hanging swings and retro arcade machines dotted the space, while ping-pong tables and a bank of television and computer screens lined the walls. Sofas and futons created little enclaves of comfortable workspace. The office, if that’s what you’d call it, had to be double or triple the square footage of her entire house.

  “Look, Bobby!” a man exclaimed. “It’s Own the Eights gal and the Marks Perfect Ten Mindset guy! Our first team has arrived!”

  Team?

  But before she could give that whopper another thought, she was eye to eye with Hector Garcia and Bobby Chang. She’d know these two men anywhere. Their faces were splashed all over the CityBeat website. Hector and Bobby were the tech power couple who started the Colorado-based company. Originally a site for metro Denver lifestyle blogging, CityBeat had exploded to become the most trusted and visited place on the web to get the pulse of a city, just about any city on every continent, even Antarctica, where a Norwegian scientist stationed there blogs about the pitfalls of falling in love with a penguin researcher. Spoiler, this penguin researcher wanted the scientist to wear flippers when they were getting it on. Truly, a captivating and somewhat disturbing blog, to say the least.

  Bobby fiddled with his glasses before giving them an awkward nod. Hector was the flashy, flamboyant partner, a tech genius in his own right, but it was rumored his husband, the quieter Bobby, was the real brains behind the CityBeat platform. Together, they’d taken over the blogging world as the premiere lifestyle blogging destination.

  “Let’s sit,” Hector said, gesturing to two small couches positioned across from one another. Hector and Bobby settled themselves on one side as she reluctantly sat down next to Jordan, who’d turned a ghostly shade of dishwater gray.

  “Alana called up and told us you two met in the lobby,” Hector said with a wide grin.

  “Alana?” she asked.

  “The receptionist who gave you your badges,” Bobby answered.

  “You each thought you’d won, didn’t you?” Hector asked with a glint in his eye.

  She shared a look with Jordan. “Yeah, I thought I’d won.”

  “I did as well,” Jordan answered, his voice void of cocky bravado.

  Hector rubbed his hands together. “Let’s just say, you’ve made it to the final round of competition, and now we’re going to see what you’re really made of.”

  “We’re competing against each other?” Jordan asked.

  “Yes and no. You’re going to be working together,” Hector said, opening a folder on the table and handing them each a piece of paper. “This is a loose schedule. We still want you to maintain your blogs and keep doing what you’re doing. But we’re adding in some surprise events—challenges—that could be sprung on you at any time. Luckily, you both live and work in the same area, Jordan at the Deacon CrossFit and Georgie at Jensen’s Books. That’ll be convenient.”

  “But I thought there was going to be just one winner,” Jordan posited.

  Bobby and Hector shared a curious look. “Yes, we want to shake things up around here with some fresh talent.”

  “Then how will you decide?” she asked.

  “Likes,” Bobby answered.

  “Likes?” she parroted back.

  Bobby pushed his glasses up from where they’d slid down his nose. “Yes, you’ll each post about your experience on the challenges you complete together, and we’ll use the likes metric to calculate your scores.”

  Jordan crossed his arms. “But our blogs are completely different.”

  “Not really,” Bobby countered gently. “If you boil your blogs down to the basics, they’re actually quite similar.”

  Georgie sat forward. “I need to respectfully disagree, Mr. Chang. Own the Eights has nothing in common with the Marks Perfect Ten Mindset.”

  She’d seen posts from Jordan’s blog pop up in her newsfeed. With titles like Pick a Perfect Protein Powder and How to Date a Ten, there was no way they were alike.

  Hector offered the hint of a smile. “You both offer ways to better oneself, correct?”

  “And you both give relationship, lifestyle, and fitness advice,” Bobby added.

  Jordan put up his hand. “I need to agree with Georgie and respectfully disagree. What kind of fitness advice could Georgie dispense? You just said that she works at a bookstore.”

  She lifted her chin. “I own a bookstore.”

  Jordan waved off the comment. “Fine, but still. What kind of exercise advice are you qualified to blog about?”

  She gave him her best shit-eating grin. “Meditation, yoga, and meandering walks.”

  “Meandering what?” Jordan questioned.

  “Walks,” she repeated as if she were addressing an idiot—because she was. “Meandering walks are an excellent way to not only get in a little exercise but also an outlet to spark creativity and fresh ideas.”

  He smirked. “Did you come up with that outfit combination on a meandering walk?”

  She channeled the take-no-shit attitude of Hermione Granger and gave him her best stink eye. “Did I call you a supreme asshat on the way up here? I should have called you, His Majesty the High Emperor of Asshattery. What an honor it is to bask in your eternal perfection.”

  She held his burning gaze, unwavering.

  “This is going to be great!” Hector cooed, cutting short their staring contest.

  “Great?” she and her asshat partner snapped in unison.

  Hector nodded. “The energy between the two of you is electric! The CityBeat readers will love it.”

  She blushed. The Emperor of Asshattery name-calling was not professional, but the CityBeat founders seemed to love it.

  Hector leaned in. “Listen, you both are very comfortable in your worlds. Putting you together may shake things up for both your blogs, in a good way.”

  “And you do share many crossover followers,” Bobby added.

  “What are those?” she asked.

  Bobby picked up an iPad from the table and tapped a few icons. “See, sixty-nine percent of your followers are the same. Georgie, while you started out with a mostly female following, you’ve been steadily adding men. And Jordan, you’re just the opposite. You started with a predominantly male following and have taken on quite a few female subscribers.”

  “Hold on!” Jordan exclaimed. “Sixty-nine percent of my followers also follow the Own the Eights blog?”

  “Numbers don’t lie,” Bobby answered, showing them a screen packed with data and metrics.

  Georgie sat back, grateful for the overstuffed cushion currently keeping her upright. How could that be? How could her loyal Own the Eights followers also subscribe to a blog as shallow and vapid as the Marks Perfect
Ten Mindset?

  “They just do,” Hector answered, biting back a grin.

  Mortified, she glanced around the room. “Did I just say that aloud?”

  “Every vapid word,” Jordan shot back. The color had returned to his face, now with a slightly pink hue to his perfect cheekbones.

  “So, that’s it? Georgie and I complete a series of challenges together for the next few weeks?” Jordan asked.

  It wasn’t going to be pleasant, but she’d endured worse. Way worse. And she knew her blog and understood her followers. They’d be behind her all the way, wouldn’t they? Or would they back Jordan?

  “Not quite. We do have a little twist up our sleeves,” Hector answered, a curious glint in his eyes as the opaque doors to the office opened and in walked the life-sized version of Barbie and Ken.

  If Jordan was perfection, these individuals were perfection version 2.0.

  Hector waved the pair over. “This, Georgie and Jordan, is your competition.”

  4

  Jordan

  Holy hell! The Dannies from the DannyLyfe blog had arrived.

  Yes, that’s life spelled with a Y. L-y-f-e.

  Jordan hardened his features. While Georgie’s blog, with her meandering walks and rah-rah, girl power posts were mind-numbing—a few had popped up in his newsfeed, and he may have read one or two—the Dannies were exponentially worse. A brother and sister team, Daniel and Danielle, who blogged on the site and preached pseudoscience and pushed their own line of supplements, the Dannies were not only reckless, they were dangerous.

  And unfortunately, they were all over CityBeat, racking up almost one hundred thousand followers more than he had.

  “Sorry, we’re late. We just finished running a marathon,” Danielle said with every blond hair on her head perfectly in place.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. He wasn’t about to kowtow to these two. The blond-haired blue-eyed duo spouted healthy living and relationship tips, but everything about them screamed plastic. From her have-to-be-fake tits to his obvious calf implants to their Botox fresh faces, there was no way their healthy glow came from anything other than one hell of a chemical peel.

  “I hadn’t heard of any marathons scheduled in the city today,” he remarked coolly.

  Daniel met his gaze. “It wasn’t a race. That’s just our level of commitment to fitness. Our followers appreciate our dedication.”

  “And then there was the kitten,” Danielle added, swishing her blond ponytail over her shoulder.

  “What about a kitten?” Georgie asked.

  Ah shit! He couldn’t have Georgie falling under the Dannies’ spell.

  As if on cue, one tear trailed down Danielle’s cheek. “It was in the middle of the road about to be decimated by a truck when Daniel sprinted into traffic and rescued it.”

  “Oh, thank goodness!” Georgie replied. He glanced over at her. Was she about to cry?

  “And then we had to take the little guy to a vet to make sure he was okay,” Daniel continued.

  Georgie gasped. “And was he all right?”

  Danielle pressed her hands together as if she were giving thanks or trying to show off her perfectly manicured nails, probably the latter. “Yes! Completely healthy, and we were able to find the sweet thing a wonderful home with a loving family who just happens to be loyal DannyLyfe subscribers.”

  Georgie’s eyes went wide. “You did all that before coming here today?”

  “Well, of course, we worked in the garden then donated the organic produce to a homeless shelter before we left on our run,” Danielle answered, then glanced at her brother. “Kind of a light day for us.”

  “Danielle and Daniel, meet Georgie Jensen and Jordan Marks,” Hector said, gesturing for the Dannies to join them on the couch.

  “You’ll be competing against each other to see who wins the contest to become a CityBeat contributor,” Bobby added.

  “A competition?” Daniel echoed.

  Hector handed the Dannies a schedule. “While your blog has the most followers, we wanted to add a little twist to CityBeat’s Battle of the Blogs, that’s what we’re calling it now, and give two other bloggers a chance to compete. Jordan and Georgie blog separately but will be working together during the competition period. Since you two are a team, we didn’t think it fair for Georgie and Jordan to be alone.”

  Agitation surged through his body. Fair? How could Hector and Bobby not see that tethering him to Georgie wasn’t giving him an advantage at all? He’d be better off on his own.

  But that wasn’t an option.

  Danielle’s serene expression cracked. “If they’re working together, how will you decide who wins? And, you’re still offering the ten-thousand-dollar prize money, right?” she tagged on a bit too sweetly.

  Bobby shared a quick, inquisitive glance with Hector then nodded. “Yes, the winner will still receive the prize money, and we have a two-tiered scoring apparatus in place. Georgie and Jordan’s likes will be combined since the two of them together have about as many followers as you and your brother do on the DannyLyfe blog. If you’re ahead, then you win. If Georgie and Jordan are ahead, we’ll determine the winner by which one of them individually garnered the most likes.”

  The Dannies shared a glance, their eyeballs bouncing up and down as if they were speaking some silent retinal language. With all the work it looked like they’d had done, he wouldn’t be surprised if they had transmitters implanted in their brains.

  “I see,” Daniel answered, sharing an uneasy expression with his sibling.

  “Not to worry! Daniel and I are always up for some good clean competition,” Danielle added as she turned up the wattage on her grin.

  Hector shared another curious look with Bobby then clapped his hands. “Excellent! Now, all of you have signed the contract to compete. But I wanted to remind you that, at any time, CityBeat could send media to film or photograph you. We’re sinking quite a bit of advertising dollars into promoting the competition, and you’ll need to be ready for anything.”

  Shit!

  How the hell was the poster girl for cardigans supposed to help him, the Marks Perfect Ten Mindset creator, expand his brand and compete on a level with the Dannies? And be recorded doing it?

  He silenced his internal rant and thought of Deacon.

  Who taught you to be the best?

  What would Deac do? He’d fucking kill it. He wouldn’t let any obstacle get in his way of victory, and neither would Jordan Marks.

  He was not a loser. Not anymore.

  He glanced at Georgie, twisting the hem of her skirt. The skirt that, even in a parallel universe, didn’t match her cardigan. He released an irritated breath. He could knock out a thousand burpees easily, but working with this train wreck might be his greatest challenge.

  Bobby pushed up his glasses, then tapped his iPad. “In thirty seconds, you’ll receive a text message with instructions regarding the first challenge. Sometimes, the four of you will be together. Sometimes, you’ll be on your own. You’re expected to write a blog post about the challenge no more than twenty-four hours after it’s been completed.”

  “And don’t forget to always have your phones with you. We’ll send each challenge event to you via text message,” Hector added, sharing another glance with Bobby.

  Jordan watched the CityBeat founders closely. Yes, this was a competition, but it seemed like Bobby and Hector had something else going on beyond just crowning a winner. But he didn’t have time to give the eccentric tech giants’ motives another thought when a chorus of cell phone pings rang out, and the Dannies sprang up and raced to the door.

  He stared at Georgie, who hadn’t moved a muscle.

  “We’ve got a meeting with our engineers now, but feel free to stay as long as you like,” Bobby said as he joined Hector and left the giant playroom of an office.

  The frosted doors closed, and he turned to his partner. “This is it. The competition just started, Georgie.”

  “I know,” she answered
, folding her hands in her lap and closing her eyes.

  Sweet baby Jesus!

  “What are you doing?”

  “Processing,” she answered.

  He exhaled a tight breath, taking out his phone and checking his texts. “Can you process and walk at the same time? I’d settle for a meandering walk at this point.”

  She opened her eyes. They looked glassy, but she blinked the emotion away. “Do you realize how awful this is for me?”

  “For you? What about me?” he balked.

  Georgie stood and started for the door, and he was right on her heels. They entered the elevator, and he hit the button for the lobby.

  “I should have known,” she muttered.

  “Known what?”

  She threw up her hands. “That it couldn’t be that easy. That they’d throw in a curveball.”

  He should have figured that as well, but he wasn’t about to admit that to her.

  “It is what it is,” he said.

  She shook her head and met his gaze in the elevator’s reflection. “Where’s the challenge event?”

  “They just texted an address,” he answered.

  She frowned. “That’s it? Only an address?”

  They stared at each other, and he knew she was thinking the same damn thing he was.

  How the hell am I going to win with this joker?

  He blew out a breath. “We’re supposed to use techniques from our respective philosophies to illustrate how to meet a soul mate at this location.”

  “Okay,” she answered, her bottom lip trembling when the doors to the elevator opened, and she took off like a shot.

  Christ! She could move in those stupid sandals.

  “Hey, we need to talk!” he called after her.

  She sprinted the short distance to a car that looked as if it had seen better days and got in. The upside? There was a good chance that even if she drove off, he could run alongside it and keep up.

  He gestured for her to roll down the window. She cranked the handle, and the gears screeched and squeaked until the damn thing was cockeyed and half-open.

  “I’ll meet you there,” she huffed, not giving him a second glance as she tried to start the car with no luck.