One
Rachel
It’s late by the time I get up to my apartment. Being the sole owner of a business, even one as small as the Cozy Nook, is draining. I’ve got to get everything cleared up for opening the next day before I can even think about going home, so it has to be about 9pm by the time I’m curled up on my tiny sofa with a cup of coffee and my paperwork.
I had barely graduated my business degree when my beloved Aunt died and left me the bookstore. Being a bookstore owner wasn’t exactly my lifelong dream, but Aunt Joyce was the one who really gave me a sense of family growing up and I was never going to let her memory die.
So here I am. Owner of a bookstore that doubles as a late night kink club. Inheritor of so much debt that we can’t make ends meet each month.
At least I have the apartment that came with it. I keep planning to redecorate, but every time I pull out a book of paint chips or start googling new curtains I can’t help feeling that if the apartment looks any different it won’t feel like my Aunt is right here with me anymore. Her cushions lend the place a sort of hominess, and if I feel grim then looking at the wallpaper I grew up with can make me feel happier.
Ever since I took the Cozy Nook over, I’ve been determined to make it into a place that my aunt would be proud of and that would make others feel as safe as she made me feel. It’s LGBTQ-friendly and I’ve got a great staff who need the jobs and who support me with making the shop as inclusive and welcoming as we can.
The problem is that being welcoming doesn’t pay the bills, and Aunty sure left me a lot of those. Even the bondage events we run in the evenings aren’t covering the backlog of debt that we’re having to deal with.
I rub my eyes and set the pile of papers aside. I can’t look at numbers any further or I’m going to scream. Instead I pull my coffee closer and start opening my mail, maybe I’ll be lucky and some mysterious benefactor will have sent me an offer of patronage.
Bill. Bill. Newsletter. Letter from Lucille about her honeymoon. Bill. Wait, what’s this?
I unfold the official looking paper and see that it’s a notice from the company that holds my mortgage. There’s a lot of legalese, but I can just about make out what it’s saying. Wake Developments have been buying up all the businesses around this area and it seems like there’s plans for making a super mall.
Now Wake Developments has bought my mortgage.
If I don’t pay off all our debt in a month, then they’re going to foreclose on me and they’re going to take everything. A cold chill of fear and anger rushes through me at the thought of all the small businesses that these people have already shut down.
There was a tiny flower shop run by the sweetest old man who opened it after his wife died so he could surround himself with her favorite flowers and pass on the love and happiness that gave him. There was a coffee shop that an angry Polish woman ran and we’d gotten to the point where I could go in and we’d exchange curses in several languages and she’d give me double the pastries I’d paid for. There was an art gallery full of strange and wonderful paintings run by a handful of kids barely out of their teens.
They’re all gone.
Now they’re coming after me.
They’re going to close my shop, take away my aunt’s heritage and make my workers jobless. How dare they? I can’t believe anyone would be so cruel but I’ve already seen it happening. Just to make money.
I pull out my phone and dial Cody’s number. She answers after three rings sounding muffled and out of breath. “Bad time?” I ask dryly.
“Not at all, how could you ask? Can you tell me what’s happening in three sentences or less as fast as possible?” There’s the sounds of a muffled voice in the background and I smother a laugh. Even though she’s constantly couch surfing, Cody gets more sex than anyone I know.
“The Big Bad Corporate Machine is coming after our debts. I’ve got a lot of business talk to do. I hate it, and I hate everything.”
“Sounds like you need to get laid,” Cody says, which is her solution for everything.
“Sounds like I need to make more money is what it sounds like. Any tips for what I should wear to meet the capitalists?”
“That nice shirt you have in the light gray, the dark gray jacket and your black jeans. Looks stylish but not like you’re trying to pander to them.”
“Great. I’ll let you get back to your thing.”
“Her name is Elsie!”
“Goodbye, Cody.”
I hang up, feeling a little better. Cody is the person I always go-to for style advice. I’m all right but I just don’t care enough lately to really put together an outfit with any kind of panache, and Cody can look phenomenal if she puts her mind to it.
Tomorrow I’m going to go up to West Developments and I’m going to make them rethink their plans. They aren’t taking away from me what I’ve worked too hard to build up.
I pull out a fresh notebook and start jotting down numbers, working the calculator on my phone overtime. I have to go in there with something, so it’s time for me to work out how long it really will take for us to turn this thing around.
Maybe I’ll even convince myself that it’s possible.
Two
Tiffany
My alarm goes off at 5 am, as it does every day. I have my morning routine down to an art. Yoga, shower, dress for the working day, make one of my smoothies, print out Anastasia’s daily routine and pin it to her activity board. I then get her clothes arranged and by that point it’s about 6:30 and time for my to sip my smoothie and go throug
h my work calendar to see what the day will be like.
Running a billion dollar business like Wake Developments is hard at the best of times, and with the international conference coming up it seems like there’s no end to the things I need to arrange.
My smoothie tastes sour this morning as I sit in the one early morning sunbeam that reaches our large dining table that we never ever use. I put more raspberries in it than honey and it makes my mouth pucker, but it would waste too much time to adjust so I gulp it down.
My name is in the news again. That’s been happening a lot lately. Wake Developments Lays Off Thousands, Wake Developments Kicks Out Local Businesses for Super Mall, and so forth. I want to call every reporter who ever wrote one of those articles and ask them who their sources are.
We’ve had to make some layoffs, yes. But not nearly as many as a thousand. And I paid a lot of money for those local businesses to move on to better things.
But the big dog is always the bad guy in the press. I’m used to it. I’m just worried about what Anastasia will think.
Today, for instance, Mr. Blackwell from the latest batch of layoffs has been telling the press that they were bullied out of the company instead of the very generous severance packages that we paid everyone. I’m sure they’d all be very glad if I would do something in character for the devil character they paint for me.
“Mom!”