Two days after Henri came to my apartment, Fallon calls me into her office.
“I can’t approve your budget proposal for the article.” There’s no hesitation as she hurls a wrecking ball into my plans.
Her words send a heavy rush of dread straight to my stomach and I’m grateful that I’m seated because I might topple over. “It’s her standard rate plus travel expenses. Didn’t you say that advertisers are already eager for that space?”
“Yes, but the point of this is to make money, not breakeven. The maximum we can do is seventy percent, in addition to the increased costs of last minute holiday travel expenses for her. I understand that because of the unique nature of her work we can’t offer exposure the same way we do with most products, so this is the best we can do.”
“But—”
“If that doesn’t work we’ll just have to axe the follow-up and come up with something else for that slot. This is a last minute addition, so this is stretching the budget as is.” Her tone leavesno room for negotiation.Spitfireisn’t the type of publication that could be considered a household name, and Fallon is a smart business woman. She won’t risk going into the red over one piece, no matter how much potential it has.
“I’ll send her our offer and negotiate.” I rise shakily to my feet bracing my hands on the armrests of my seat.
There’s no point in telling Fallon that Henri needs that money, or that our initial article is the reason why. Even if we pull it, the damage is done to Henri’s career. I also have a feeling that if I voice this, Fallon will get as far as she can from the entire project to avoid any potential legal issues.
But Henri isn’t like that. From what I witnessed the other night, she’s the type of person who would rather work harder to make up for her losses than enter into a legal battle.
“Fallon?” I say. “What if I can get her to agree to covering travel expenses and we cover her standard fee. That way we wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of collecting itemized receipts. And she travels a lot, so maybe she has miles?”
“If you can get her to agree to that, let me know and I’ll issue an official approval.”
Back at my desk I settle in and navigate to my email.
Juliet,
Your rate has been approved and we’ll move forward as planned for the project. As for travel expenses please send me whatever you need and I will book them directly for you.
L. Hughes.
Mr. Hughes.
Sounds good to me.
J
I see how it is. I offer to pay for an all-expenses-paid vacation and now you respond.
L.
I’m a simple woman. I know my worth.
If you’re ready to get started, meet me at Moxy Cafe tomorrow at 10.
xoxo
J
“You take all of your clients here?” I ask. The table wobbles as I set up my notebook and phone to record. Moxy is tucked into the corner of a line of shops in Brooklyn, with tall windowswith yellow swooping lettering complemented by emerald green paint on the exterior.
“Or places like it,” Henri says from where she’s seated across from me. “Go ahead, try the coffee. Let me know what you think.” She tips her mug to her lips and waits.
I mirror her, interested to see what’s so special about this shop. The latte hits my tongue and it takes everything in me not to recoil and cough. It’s bitter and earthy. A film clings to my mouth even after I’ve swallowed.
“It’s umm . . . different than I expected.” I inspect my cup. Brown flecks pepper the liquid. Are those coffee grounds?
“Explain.” Her lips twitch in barely-contained amusement.
“Well, it’s . . . I . . .” I try to string something good together before slumping against the back of my chair. “Please tell me you don’t bring people here.”
