“Dad,” I huff through the phone as I steer Mrs. Nelson’s English Mastiff through the jogging path in Central Park. Well, actually one look at the size ratio and you’ll know who is steering who. The size differential is what makes this recruiting endeavor so fruitful. “I got fired from the coffee shop.”
“You did?” The lack of shock in his voice tips me off that he was expecting something like this. “Were you recruiting on your shift again?”
“That’s not the point.” I yank the leash to the side of the path, pulling Oliver into the grass while we pass a trio of Shih Tzus. Oliver is smart, excellent at following directions, but he never understands his size. He wants to play with everyone, often scaring away every breed smaller than him. “The point is that Christian is a jerk. And he threw out my French press. He had the audacity to say I was hurting his business, and he’d be better off without me.”
“I don’t know about that. You’ve got the best sales skills I’ve ever seen.” Dad’s even voice was laced with a chuckle. “It’s a bit of a cliché, but you could sell ice to an Eskimo. When you put your mind to something, you go after it.”
“Exactly.” I tug on the leash again, directing Oliver away from the hot dog cart. I’m not against feeding him street food, but I usually reserved such treats for a reward after he brings me a hunk.
“So, what are you doing now?” His voice takes an inquiring tone. “Is the app making any money?”
“That’s the thing.” I halt on my heel as I pass a single jogger with no wedding band. A look over my shoulder confirms he’s fit and definitely fast enough to run after Oliver. I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder as I use both hands to unhook Oliver’s leash, while discreetly pointing to the man jogging away. “That’s the one we want, boy. When I say go.” Oliver dances in place, doing his I-found-a-hunk-excited-tail wag while I pause, letting the jogger get a good length away.
This works best when it looks as if I don’t have a chance to catch Oliver. While I wait, I continue my conversation with Dad. “The app’s algorithm is successful. Which sounds like a good thing, and typically it is, but I can’t keep people long enough for a second date. With the first one free, it’s like one date and they’re off to happily ever after. It never fails. A perfect match every time.”
“That’s amazing the algorithm works that well.”
“Not really, because I got most of my female recruits from the coffee shop. Now that I can’t go there daily, I’m not sure how I will keep up with the supply.”
“Who said you can’t go there every day? He doesn’t own the whole block.”
“What are you saying? Just recruit on Christian’s doorstep.” My voice trails off. That is theperfectidea. It would also annoyhim like crazy, and I’m all for that. I’ll have to think about that another time. My hunk is a good quarter mile away. It is time to put my plan into action. “Gotta go, Dad. I’ve got a hunk to catch.” I hang up before I give Dad a chance to reply. I point toward the man and instruct Oliver. “Fetch!”
Oliver bolts forward with lightning speed. I grab my foot and pull it behind my leg, stretching. It’s been a while since we’d been hunting in the park, and I need to limber up. I grab the other foot and give it a good tug as Oliver rounds the corner on the jogging path. He’s about halfway between the man and me now, and I start a slow jog to warm up some more. When Oliver’s about to pass the man and not a moment too soon, I call out, “Oliver! Come back!”
I dig in and pull speed, running as if my life depends on it, and scream for help. “Somebody, please stop my dog!”
The shrillness in my cries for help even startles me. I had this routine down to a science, and as I’d hypothesized, this man is fast. He jolts forward, taking a mere ten seconds to snatch Oliver by the collar. Now is not the time to stop crying. I learned it is best to carry on a little longer while I worked up a few crocodile tears. “Oliver!” I cry out. “Why do you do this to me?”
The man holds Oliver’s collar, jogging him toward me. I continue my script, “Ah, thank you so much! I’m not sure how he got off his leash.” I grab Oliver’s collar and hook his leash while scratching his head with my free hand. Now that I am this close to our catch, I can see he’s definitely a ten. He’s over six feet, fit and could mirror Patrick Dempsey when he was younger. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.” I bat my lashes and smile at him sweetly. “He’s not even my dog. I'm walking him for my neighbor. Yourgirlfriendmust be lucky to have such a dashing and quick man around.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.” His lips curl up, ready to banter.
My smile curls even more.I hooked another one.I pat Oliver’s head and quietly promise to get him a hotdog on the way home.
Now, to figure out what to do about losing my best recruiting spot.
seven
Christian
It’s the day after Christmas. I spent yesterday alone in my hotel room, finally resting in an actual bed. It might have been depressing to some people, but a real bed is the best Christmas present I could have had. I slept the day away, not even missing a big family gathering.
Today, I drum my fingers on the Coffee Loft counter, staring at my grandmother’s name in my phone contact list. Even though she hated the idea of me buying this place, my grandma made a personal loan to me for it. She didn’t give me any special privileges though. I had a strict loan repayment plan with an interest rate that was in her favor. My first loan payment is due next month, leaving me hardly any time to make money to pay her.
The store’s low sales weren’t the situation I had planned on. I also never planned on starting over with staff either. Although Ido believe it’s the best choice going forward, it’s taking time to become profitable.
My grandma is wealthy. She mostly gets her wealth from real estate investments, but she also owns the construction business that my late grandfather spent his life building. Not a prestigious luxury home-building one, rather a dirty road construction company with big noisy trucks, of which she is so proud.
From the time I was a baby, they had me in a hardhat, sitting in the dump truck next to Grandpa. They did everything they could to train me in the ways of a “blue-collar, working man.” I always loathed it. I had allergies, and the filth and dust would make my eyes crust over and my nose plug up. I never complained, though, because passion oozed out of their smiles.
Grandma had held onto the dream thatsomedayI would carry on their business for the next generation. She would have handed it over to me on a silver platter, complete with a ribbon-cutting ceremony. It’s all I remember her talking to me about when I was little. “Someday, you will own Total Trucks Construction, and you can drive any truck you want.” I never admitted it, but I merely pretended to enjoy playing with trucks when I was little, to see their pride shine.
My grandma even sent me to one of the best business schools in the country to get a formal education. For that, I’m grateful, and will never forget her gift. I didn’t use it the way she had hoped. It’s an understatement to say I broke Grandma’s heart when I asked her for a loan for my Coffee Loft franchise. She gave me the loan papers with white knuckles.
I hope in time, after she sees my success, she will see this is a better fit for me.
More than that, I strive to make her proud.
