Lizzy let out an exasperated sigh. “Have you gotten any potential investors for your gemstone business?”
I groaned. “I don’t want to talk about that either.”
“Oh come on. You can’t avoideverysubject in your life.”
“Last night I got an email from someone asking for gemstone details,” I replied. “I sent a long response answering their questions, and they replied almost instantly telling me they weren’t interested anymore.”
“Lame. What else?” she asked.
“That’s it.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “I emailed the expo coordinator to see if I could get some of my money back, since I didn’t get a corner booth and since I wasn’t there for the whole expo. But I’m not hopeful about it.”
Lizzy used her finger to lift my chin higher into the air. “Keep your chin up. Maybe you’ll get more calls. Your business idea is a good one. You just need to be patient.”
I doubted it. I’d been to enough of those expos to know that interested investors moved quickly. If I hadn’t gotten any calls by now, then my odds were rapidly dwindling.
“The frustrating part is that Hunter had to reappear in townnow,” I said out loud. “I want him to think of me as a bad-ass business owner, not a bartender barely scraping by with hare-brained business ideas that always fail.”
“Businesses are like boyfriends,” Lizzy replied. “Once you find the right one, all the failures leading up to it don’t matter anymore. Nobody cares if Bill Gates had a failed software company before starting Microsoft.”
“I know,” I said. “I just wish Hunter had showed upafterI had my big break, and not before.”
Work passed slowly because we only had a handful of customers at the brewery. Around six, the front-of-house manager told me I could clock out and head home.
I grabbed a four-pack of beer on the way out, like Lizzy had suggested, although I told myself it was because the beer fridge was nearly empty at home.
I had driven to work today because there was a chance of rain, and I didn’t want to have to ride my bike home while it was pouring. I got into my car and turned the key in the ignition. A grinding sound filled the car,WHIRR, WHIRR, WHIRR, as the engine tried to start. Ironically, I had watched enough of Hunter’s car videos to know that I probably had a bad solenoid, which was keeping the engine from cranking.
“Come on,” I said out loud, pleading to the Gods of Beater Automobiles. “Don’t do this to me, not tonight…”
Finally the engine roared to life. I breathed a sigh of relief and drove home.
Hunter’s loaner car was parked out front again. I pulled into the driveway, opened the garage door, and walked inside. Before putting my beer in the garage fridge, I pulled a can off the hard plastic ring for myself. After pausing, I pulled a second one off too.
I’m just being a good host,I told myself.I’m not trying to seduce him like Lizzy suggested.
I went into the kitchen to transfer the beers to pint glasses, then walked upstairs. I could hear the deep murmur of Hunter’s voice drifting out of his room, and the door was open. I walked slowly and quietly on the carpet so as not to disturb him. And, partially, because I wanted to overhear whatever conversation he was having.
But when I paused just outside his open door, I realized he wasn’t talking on the phone. He was recording a YouTube video.
“Even better, the new Ford Expedition has built-in Wi-Fi,” I heard Hunter explain. “That way passengers can connect to the internet and work on the go. It also allows all data from the six security cameras to instantly be uploaded to the cloud in the event of an accident. If you ever get rear-ended at a stop light, your insurance will thank you.”
He grunted, then muttered to himself, “Nah, that’s a dumb line. I’ll cut it and re-record it later.” His tone changed as he rehearsed different lines. “If your car is ever totaled… If your Expedition is ever involved in an accident…”
It looked like Lizzy was wrong. Hunterwasdoing car videos while he was in town. It wasn’t just an excuse to see me.
I emerged from behind the door. “Knock knock. I’m not interrupting, am I?”
Hunter was standing next to a white board that was mounted on the wall, with a hand-drawn diagram of the Ford Expedition. On the other side of the room, two umbrella lights and a camera were pointed at him.
After watching his YouTube videos for the past five years, it was surreal to see him filming one in my house. His hair was a perfect amount of messy, and he was wearing faded jeans and a fitted Caraholics T-shirt. All in all, he lookedgood.
His movie-star face immediately brightened when he saw me. “You’re good, Erica. Just finishing up a recording segment.” He glanced at the glasses in my hands. “And even if youwereinterrupting, it’s all right since you brought beer.”
“Oh, these?” I asked. “They’re both for me. Get your own.”