JENN
When I arriveat the spa Friday morning, ready for another fun-filled, adventurous day, I’m surprised to find a fog of gloom. Asher has his arms crossed, talking in a low voice to Paloma, as others hurry around, heads down. Normally, at this hour, things are bustling—people moving to and from the fancy coffee machine, swapping morning greetings.
“Who died?” I ask, greeting them. Then I stop. “Oh God, did someone actually die?”
Paloma sighs. “Just our entire launch.”
“What?” I exclaim, looking around for Austin. “Why?”
“Our biggest investor just got tied up in a massive scandal,” Asher explains.
“Wait, do you mean that Sinclair guy?” I ask, recalling the video Austin was watching.
He nods. “Without his money, we’re fucked.”
Oh God, and I was laughing over the eccentric guy’s antics!
“How’s Austin taking it?” I ask, anxious.
“About as bad as you’d think,” Paloma says grimly.
Crap.
I hurry down the hallway. Outside Austin’s office, I can practically feel the barometric pressure change. He’s slumped in his desk chair, scrolling something on his phone.
“Hi,” I say quietly.
He looks up, straightening. “I guess you heard?”
I nod.
He’s got a shadow of stubble on his face and undereye circles like he hasn’t slept. “Is it really so bad?” I ask.
“The launch is up in flames.” Austin says flatly. “Unless I can find a new investor in the next… week, we’re out of cash before we even open the doors.”
“What about your friends?” I suggest. “You’re partners in the bars, aren’t you?”
Austin lets out a hollow laugh. “I love those guys, but they’re small fry compared to what Sinclair was putting in. Serious cash. The kind that doesn’t just fall from the sky.”
“You’ll think of something,” I tell him gently, hating how stressed he looks.
“Will I, though?” he counters. “I already did a massive round of pitches to get Duncan on board in the first place. I’ve been wracking my brain, but I’ve exhausted all my contacts. Anyone who was going to invest already has.” He looks around. “Fuck, half the people here walked away from good jobs because I promised them something better. How can I tell them they put their trust in me for nothing?”
I shake my head. He’s in a doom spiral, I can see it in his eyes, and no good ideas ever came from blind panic. Sitting around here blaming himself won’t change anything.
“Okay,” I say, clapping my hands. “Get up.”
He blinks. “Why?”
“We’re playing hooky,” I announce. “Sometimes it’s easier to solve problems on your feet, not chained to your desk chair in an act of self-punishment.”
“I’m not—” he protests, but I cut him off.
“You are. I can practically see the flogger you’re beating yourself with.” I stop, realizing too late how dirty that sounds. “I mean… You know what I mean.”
At least my double entendre has lightened his frown. “Where are we going?” he asks, reluctantly getting to his feet. “I’m not in the mood for some new-age management pep talks,” he adds, warming. “Manifesting success, and all that bullshit.”
I smile. “No manifesting necessary, unless you want to think real hard about our next snack.” I steer him to the door, determined. “I’ve got something even better in mind.”