I don't know what the fuck has come over me. One minute I'm fine. I'm Ethan fucking Kane. The one man in this city that not a single woman can keep. And the next minute, I'm fawning over some woman. Sure, she's hot—but so are a fucking hundred other women throwing themselves at my feet. And what's more, I can't get this particular woman out of my fucking mind no matter how hard I try.
I look over at Cheryl. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask. "I'm fine. A little tired maybe, but fine."
Do I sound convincing? I'm sure Cheryl can see right through it.
"Ethan, I've known you for a long time, and I've never seen that look on your face before."
"You're overreacting," I laugh, shrugging her off. "I'm sure you've seen many of my faces—all variations of the one you're seeing right here in this meeting. Continue with your marketing plans. I'm listening."
"Okay, well, beyond this angle, I'm thinking that the bottom line is this—our focus should be on the people, our potential customers," she says. "To build buzz, I think we can turn this product launch into a full-scale event. We should also have our pre-orders set to go live soon. Do you know the official pre-order launch date? Ethan—are you listening?"
"Yes, sorry," I reply. "What was your question again?"
"No—you're definitely different today," she says, halting the marketing talk. "Where were you yesterday?"
"I was here," I say.
"No, you weren't. You left early… and I've never seen you leave work early."
"Oh, I—uh—I had a meeting scheduled for the evening," I say.
"With who?"
"What is this, a game of 20 questions?" I ask. "You sound like a surrogate mother."
Cheryl looks at me for a moment without saying another word. I can see her brain working overtime. I break the awkward silence.
"Look, it doesn't matter who I was with… trust me. Let's move on." I say. "What matters is that we launch Illicit Escape successfully. We have millions of dollars riding on this."
And then it's as if a circuit connects in her brain and she makes the link between what she's been searching for—like finding the correct piece in a jigsaw puzzle.
"You were with her, weren't you?" she asks. Her eyes are burning holes into me and I know exactly whom she's referring to.
"No—well, not completely," I say. "I mean I was, but it's not what you think."
Cheryl gives me a critical glare.
"Right, and you expect me to believe that?" she asks.
"Believe whatever you want, but let's continue," I say, slightly annoyed. "If we don't get this product launched, we'll all be in trouble."
Cheryl realizes that she isn't going to get anything further out of me, so she continues.
"I've created an infographic that shows a breakdown of various demographics and who our target audience is. You'll see that while many of our clients are male, we do have a sizeable segment of female viewers," she says. "If you look right here, you can see what I'm referring to."
I glance at the image on her screen, but my mind hasn't been following a word she's said, so it takes me a minute to locate what I should be looking at.
"It's right here," Cheryl says, pointing down to the far left corner. There's a tinge of irritation in her voice.
She continues, "I was also considering the fact that we have a large sponsorship pool that we can reach into as well. If w
e throw an event for this product launch, I could see various adult novelty stores interested in sponsorships. Who was that one sex toy manufacturer that we used to partner with? Ethan?"
"Oh right, uh, let's see—who were they again?" I ask.
"Never mind. I've just remembered," she says. "We worked with two companies—Naughty by Nature and Good Vibrations. Shall we send them a sponsorship proposal?"
"Sure, whatever you think."