by M K Lansbury
“Well, I don’t mean to say he was bad. There was just something going on. He didn’t know how to hold up a conversation.”
“Okay, I wonder if there’s a way to determine through the questionnaire how introverted or extroverted someone is.”
“That’s a really good idea,” Zara chimed in, working to divert Ally’s attention away from the listing. “Let’s start figuring that out.”
“Yeah. But what about Date Three?”
Zara’s heart thudded as if the question had hit her by surprise. She knew it was coming. There was nothing to be scared about.
“The third . . . started off great.” She worded her description carefully. Great was an understatement, but she needed that to cover up who she really was with courtesy of Ally’s Soul Mate, and the one-out-of-three guarantee she swore by. It was all Ally’s fault anyway!
“You know what, I think your one-out-of-three thing does work. But my third date . . .” she paused to reconsider every word that was about to follow, “. . . Even though it seemed like a good match, was not a good match.”
Ally grimaced. “What are you going on about?”
“I mean!” Zara exhaled sharply. “How do I put this?”
“I don’t know. Why wasn’t he a good match? What didn’t you like about him?”
“His work! It would be extremely tricky if we continued to see each other.”
“Oh, so he travels a lot?”
“Well . . .”
“You didn’t like his nature of work?” Ally offered helpfully.
Zara snapped her fingers and pointed a finger at Ally, beaming. “Exactly. Yeah. You never know. He might actually be the right person, but it’s definitely the wrong time.”
Zara clenched her eyes shut as heat flamed her cheeks.
Ally chuckled. “Are you okay?”
“I'm just tired.”
Which was true. Couldn’t lie to Ally. Ever. Omitting a vital piece of information to protect Ally and Soul Mate was a different matter entirely. But she couldn't lie to Ally. Zara was just glad that the discussion about her dates was over.
Ally was reading through her notes. “You know what? That kind of messes up my whole one-out-of-three rule.”
“No, it doesn’t. Don’t doubt it now. Your algorithm works. I told you; the third date was a good match. It’s just not the right time. For him.”
“Come on. Let me hear the recordings of those dates.”
Painstakingly slowly, Zara unlocked her phone and played the first date. The million-dollar dude was giving her the sales pitch.
“It actually sounds like a good business,” Ally teased.
“Shut up.”
“How about the next one?”
Zara sighed and played the second recording, dreading the third. She had to find a way out of this situation.
Say you have to go to the bathroom.
Say you’re feeling sick.
You’re not in school. And Ally is not your teacher. She’ll just keep your phone and play the audio.
“Come on. Press play,” Ally prodded.
Zara glanced at her phone. “It is playing.”
“Wow, he was really that quiet?”
“Like a pin dropping.”
“Ouch.”
“Like I was in a silent retreat.”
“Let’s hear this right-guy-wrong-time one.”
Zara opened her mouth, willing a more intelligent excuse to jump to her mind. That’s when she heard the heavenly sound of Beata’s heels behind her.
“Hello, ladies.”
The usual exuberance was missing from Beata’s voice. Ally instantly stiffened, forgetting all about Zara’s third date. Zara quickly got over her jubilance at being saved by Beata and faced her. Beata was wearing a white button-down shirt tucked into a white, floral print skirt. She looked regal. But very disappointed.
“I'm sorry. I hate coming here with bad news. But I just got the latest download numbers.”
“Oh,” Ally said in a steady, calm tone. But one look at her and Zara knew Ally was anything but calm about that piece of information.
“The numbers aren’t horrible. But they’re definitely not what we had hoped they would be.”
Zara leaned over the table. “It’s still early. We just launched the beta.”
“Of course. But we need to quickly create a plan to generate more interest in the app. The official launch is in a month, and we need to have the proper word-of-mouth.”
Ally sighed. “Okay. We need more buzz. So something that can help us go viral?”
Beata turned to glance at Zara. “What about that footage, Zara, of your dates?”
“Oh, no. They weren’t good ones. I had two fails and one I turned down because of some personal issue.”
Beata and Ally gaped at her, both confused. There was no need to be worried, though; Ally could never join the dots. There was no way Ally’s dots would lead to Finders CEO Lance Chase. Impossible.
Zara swallowed and spun quick ideas to help get Ally and Beata off her case. “We can enlist the help of our Soul Mate users. Maybe offer an incentive. Record them and create a campaign out of the footage. It would all be done with the participants’ full agreement. Full disclosure. Let them match organically through the app then offer an incentive for us to record them. We’ll use footage.”
“Not a bad idea.” Ally grinned.
“We should probably get to work on creating this campaign and executing ASAP. Zara, can you handle this?” Beata was all business.
“I can, sure.” But Zara’s mind was a frenzy of activity, jotting down problems that needed her attention and simultaneously offering solutions. Her brain would crash with all the tabs she had open in there. “Wait, I think we need some objective, outside help.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Zara glanced around the table at the curious faces. “At the Tech Talks after-party, I met this really sharp woman. Just a second.” Zara pulled her bag closer and pulled her wallet out, finding the visiting card the cat-eye-spectacled girl had given her. She slipped it over the table toward Ally. “Madelaine Foster. She owns and operates Foster Marketing.” Zara paused as Ally handed Madelaine’s card over to Beata. “And she specifically said she would love to be part of our team. Why don’t we enlist her help in overseeing our marketing campaign? Get a fresh, unbiased perspective, and also some much-needed extra pairs of hands?
Beata grinned. “I like that, Zara. Let’s think bigger.”
“Do we have the funds?” Ally asked nervously.
Beata nodded. “We’ve got ’em, so let’s use ’em. That’s what they’re there for.”
“Great. I’ll talk to Foster and make sure they’ll be the right fit for us.”
Beata chimed in, more excited than ever, “Great. But let’s make sure we keep thinking of other things to spread the word. We’ve got thirty days to prep for this launch, and we’re gonna have to spend every minute hustling.”
Zara nodded, glad she’d dodged the date-with-Lance bullet. “Ready to hustle.”
NINE
Fate, or Coincidence?
This is all making me miss Nebraska, Uncle Dennis.”
Zara hooked the phone between her ear and shoulder. She ran a finger across the rim of her cup and glanced out the glass window of the coffee shop. Her laptop was open in front of her, along with a notebook with the page titled in italic handwriting: Mom and Dad’s Anniversary Party.
“You haven’t visited in a while. When are you going to take a vacation, come back here?”
Zara grimaced at the glass window. “It’s crunch-time for the app. It’s the final thirty-day sprint to launch. I’m lucky if I can get enough time to use the bathroom, let alone get time off.”
“App working out well with Ally?”
“The app is great. We’re a little short on download numbers right now, but that’s totally fixable. It is going to work,” she said with
conviction.
“I'm sure it will, honey. I believe in you and Ally. You two are a great team.”
“Talking about great teams, let’s get back to the business of the best team we know: Mom and Dad. I need your help with the guest list.”
“Ah, that’s why you’re calling. Zack and Tara are definitely the dream team, aren’t they?”
“Mhmm. Now I hope you and I can be a team and figure out this guest list before I get premature grey hair fussing over it.”
“Not a problem. How big do you want it?”
“I'm not sure. I think we should keep it small. And by small, I mean, it’s going to be at least 120 guests. I don’t think I can cut it anymore. I knew Mom and Dad had a lot of friends, but I didn’t know they had this many.”
“I think what you’re trying to say gracefully is that you thought more of them had already died.”
“Uncle Dennis . . .” Zara appreciated her Uncle’s dry sense of humor.
“Here’s what I’ll do: I’ll put together a list later tonight, and you can edit it according to who you feel should be there or not.”
“That sounds good. Just wish I could’ve been at home doing this instead of here. In the middle of the New York hustle.” She was sitting in a coffee shop right in front of the Fulton Street subway station, watching the people rush in and out of the subway. “I had never realized I could feel this lonely surrounded by so much life.”
“It sucks, I know. But you and Ally have always dreamed of being there doing something like this. Try to enjoy it. I mean, I wish I could have done what you were up to when I was younger.”
Zara grinned. “Come on; you’re the one who set up a salt business all the way in Australia in your twenties. If anything, you inspired me.”
He laughed at the other end. “You’ve always been a sweetheart, Zara. I've gotta run. I’ll send you the list tonight, and we can talk again.”
“Sure.”
Zara hung up and scrolled through her phone for long seconds. She loved Uncle Dennis. He wasn’t an actual uncle but rather a close family friend that had been around while she was growing up. He used to babysit her and Ally, and Zara had wonderful memories of Uncle Dennis playing with them for hours. He was the best uncle to have. Because of him, her childhood had been spent reading books and fighting over board games.
Sipping her coffee, Zara mindlessly let her gaze wander over the people waiting in line at the coffee shop. Jack’s Frothies served some of the best portable deserts with their teas and coffees, which is why the place was always crawling with people trying to grab a coffee and snack on the go.
A woman glanced at her watch and drummed her fingers on the counter as she ordered. The man who was picking up his order displayed the unmistakably aloof aura of a corporate attorney, his back so stiff it gave Zara neck pain just looking at him. Another man reached for his drink, his starched white shirt taut over his wide shoulders and back. He turned around, sipping his coffee from the disposable cup that concealed the lower half of his face. His eyes lifted and looked straight at her.
She turned into stone in her chair. Lance. It was Lance! Standing at the counter with his coffee, mere yards away from her.
Now there was an antidote to a stress-free existence. Lance Chase.
She spun around in her chair to face the other way, awkwardly placing her palm on her cheek to hide herself. But her waist was at an awkward angle, and she had to turn back slightly.
Oh no.
Lance was standing next to her chair, a coffee in his hand. A disposable cup, which meant he had been leaving, but now, he wasn’t.
“Wow, Ms. Rodrigues. Will you stop at nothing to spy on me and Finder?”
She couldn't help but chuckle at her own lame attempt to hide from him. “Spying? I prefer to call it corporate espionage.”
“You could have someone else to do your dirty work instead. Make it less conspicuous.”
“But less fun.”
He grinned and motioned to the chair across from her with his cup. “Well, since you came all this way, why don’t I just give you what you want?”
Zara almost blushed at this joke.
“Our trade secrets, right? What would you like to know?”
He sat down, and Zara smiled.
“But seriously, you know our offices are just around the corner, right?”
“I didn’t, actually.”
“Well, obviously, someone needs to do more research.” He smiled, but his eyes were already scanning the open notebook in front of her. “Mom and Dad’s anniversary party? I see you’re more than just a head of marketing.”
She slammed it shut with a chuckle. “I do parties, birthdays, reunions, and everything else.”
“I should hire you sometime.”
“You can’t afford me.”
“Can your parents?”
“I’m giving them a big family discount, obviously.” She smiled. “Actually, I’m planning a surprise party for them, but it’s driving me insane. I have to work on our launch, and this, and then we’re also in the middle of putting together our—” She halted midsentence, and Lance’s face lit up in amused glee.
“Putting together what? Do tell. I’m all ears.”
“Nothing. Phew, that was close. I was about to spill all my business secrets.” She waved her hand over the table as she said spill, and the tip of her finger popped his disposable coffee cup over.
As if in slow motion, she watched the lid pop off his coffee and splash onto his shirt.
“Oh, my god!” Zara cried just as Lance stood up quickly, saving his lap and thighs from imminent burns. He pinched the fabric of his shirt to keep it away from his skin as his eyes lifted to Zara.
Zara was standing, her eyes wide, her hands covering her mouth and nose in stunned silence. Two servers hurried over to help Lance, who fortunately didn’t look upset at all.
Nonetheless, she was mortified. “I'm so sorry.” She released her face and shook her head. “Are you hurt? Please let me take you to the hospital.”
“Hospital for a coffee spill? I’m fine. But I’ll admit—trying to injure a competitor? Good strategy.”
“I wish I was that clever. No, I guess I’m just a little clumsy.” She looked around for something—anything—to help him. “I’m so sorry. Let me pay for your dry cleaning.”
“It’s okay.” He laughed out loud, shocking Zara with the throaty, delicious sound.
“You're taking this really well, considering you just dodged first degree burns.”
“First degree? I doubt it. But if it makes you feel better, why don’t you buy me a replacement shirt?”
To her complete surprise, Lance reached toward a rack of the coffee shop merchandise and pulled out a T-shirt. “Ten bucks? I’m sure Soul Mate can afford that, right?”
Zara caught both lips between her teeth to fight the laugh as he grabbed the gray t-shirt with the words “Jack’s Frothies” emblazoned in red at the front.
Zara stiffened, stunned as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing a chest with a sparse matting of hair in the center, muscled pectorals, and hard squares of his abdomen. She glanced at her shoes, then his, then at his face, trying her best to not stare open-mouthed at his bare torso.
With shaking hands, she took the shirt he handed her. It was warm from the heat of his body. Oh god! Why are you tormenting me? Why do I make a complete fool of myself every time Lance is around?
Zara’s brows furrowed as she glanced around. Their exchange had a very avid audience. But it was the women openly ogling the shirtless man in the coffee shop that riled her. Sure, he was a very hot man, and he had no business being half-naked there. Zara didn't blame the women for being entranced. But there was such a thing called decency. And Lance was with her.
Well, yes and no.
Lance put on the tacky tourist t-shirt and held out his arms. “What do you think? Do I look like a true New Yorker now?”
&nb
sp; She nodded, jerking as the nervous embarrassment and the sight of him wearing that t-shirt over his tailored, very experience trousers and shoes. The laugh burst out of her, and she grabbed the back of a chair. “Well, you at least have the goofy expression of a tourist.”
“Thanks. That’s what I’m always going for.”
“Well, you pull it off with great aplomb.”
“Aplomb? Great word. You should really be in marketing.”
“Sounds like you’re offering me a job.”
“Can’t afford you. Remember?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and urged herself to shut her mouth before she made an even bigger fool of herself. She was fawning over him and making sure he knew it. He can’t know you have this crazy crush on him.
“Anyway . . .” Zara abruptly decided it was best to run. Only some physical distance between them would spare Zara further embarrassment. “. . . I should get going. I’ll return your shirt as soon as I can. I’ll see you around.”
“Apparently you will.” He pushed his hands into his pants’ pockets. “You seem to be everywhere I go.”
She spun around, cheekily walking backward. “More like you’re everywhere I go.”
He grinned, slightly lopsided, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Zara bumped into a man, and he cursed loudly, making her flinch as she whirled around. “Sorry.”
She didn’t turn back to look at Lance. She wanted to cry. She tried to cry. In hopes that it would help her release some of this helpless dorkiness that she seemed to have grown in her like weeds ever since Lance stepped into her life.
His smile was enough to completely ruin her cheeky goodbye.
Lance must have been laughing his head off.
She groaned and ignored the curious stares from the people around her. What was it about this guy that always threw her for a loop?
Every single time.
TEN
Love, and Conflict of Interest
The Chicago skyline was a beauty.
Zara stood next to the floor-to-ceiling window on the sixteenth floor, waiting for the focus groups to assemble.
Soul Mate had hired Foster Marketing, which was considered one of the top ten firms in the country—all thanks to Beata.