Chapter 2
Emi
To: Trixsters Anonymous
From: {Website Contact- Anon 1}
Subject: Referral
Dear Trixsters,
I think I may need your services. A friend of mine heard of you through an acquaintance.
She assures me of your discretion and professionalism, but I’m skeptical to delve into details until I understand more. How exactly does this work?
Regards,
Suspicious Fiancée
I read the email over Maren’s shoulder and then pace in a circle around her kitchen.
“We’re really doing this?”
“Are you getting cold feet?” She raises an eyebrow, looking bored.
“No, I think it’s more of a cross between excitement and nervous jitters.”
“Well, you need to figure it out soon because we have our first potential client.”
I stop moving and give her a nod. “Go for it.”
She starts typing, and I grab us both a bottle of water and sit next to her. Since the day Maren broke up with Carlton, we’ve been in planning mode for Trixsters Anonymous. We worked tirelessly, Maren on the IT side and me researching how to start a small business. While neither of us knew if our little venture would take off, we wanted to be prepared. What we didn’t expect was the complexity of being anonymous.
The main concern was how to open a bank account and accept payments. We decided to classify TA a consulting business, and I called a friend from school for advice.
Leah works in banking in Savannah, so we took a road trip to visit her. It was easy to get out of town, explaining to our families and friends that Maren needed a getaway. This was believable by all because her mother was convinced she was on the verge of a breakdown and in denial after ending her engagement. Nothing could be further from the truth, but Maren played along.
Last weekend, we got a room on the riverfront in Savannah and finalized our business plan. While everyone thought we were drowning our sorrows, we were actually holed up in our hotel, coming up with tons of scenarios that may come our way.
Leah met with us, and without giving too many details, ATC, Anonymous Trixsters Consulting, now had a bank account. We also had a hefty balance, thanks to Carlton Breen’s outlandish taste in diamond rings. ATC was our clever way to twist our title in case anyone ever tried to find out who we were. It was my idea to switch the spelling around because Trixsters with an ‘x’ was much cooler.
Leah didn’t ask questions, but we led her to believe our business was in graphics, and Maren had to be careful because of her full time position.
During the weekend, we picked up two new computers for TA business exclusively, Maren built a website and email addresses only. Once someone logged onto the TA.com site, the only option on the landing page was a ‘Contact Us’ button.
Anyone wanting to contact us was able to write a brief message, which would originally be transferred through without them having to disclose their name. Maren was then able to build a code that linked their message and trapped their emails for reply. Then we spent hours creating forms, auto-replies, and correspondence messages. By the end of the weekend, we also had new cell phones, for TA business purposes only, and new wardrobes, including everything we could need to disguise ourselves.
Sure, there were things that would pop up along the way, but we were prepared to deal with them as they came. One of our largest hurdles was marketing. It wasn’t like we could print business cards and hand them out, so we had to rely on word of mouth.
This turned out to be easier than we thought. Once word spread of Maren’s broken engagement, the questions started coming in.
Her phone, email, and text messages were blowing up with questions from friends and coworkers who were concerned. She took this opportunity to plug our business without making a big deal of it.
One Saturday night, we invited about a dozen of these women to her house for a cocktail party. She pretended to be solemn and heartbroken, and these women rushed to the idea of consoling her.
The whole day, she was high on excitement, buzzing around her house. The minute the first guest arrived, she threw me a wink and opened the door as a different woman. I have to give it my best friend; she should consider acting. As each woman came through the door, she fell into them with huge hugs, even shedding tears to keep up the act.
I served drinks and appetizers, biting my tongue all night to keep from bursting into a fit of laughter. Finally, after a few rounds of my famous margaritas, the questions started.