I've mademyself presentable in time for my call with Jolene and the marketing company.
I follow the link in my email, joining a meeting for which I am one minute late. My scant tardiness can be blamed on Peanut for making me need to pee.Again.
"Hello," I greet after checking to make sure my microphone and camera are turned on.
"Hi," a cheerful, stunningly beautiful blonde woman says. She sits on the long side of a gleaming wood desk, a dark-haired woman by her side. "Jolene was just telling usa little about Case Files. I'm Paisley, the owner of P Squared Marketing. This"—she motions to her right—"is my social media strategist, Cecily. I've asked her to join us today because she is a wizard when it comes to growing and finding the right followers on social media."
"Is this where I act demure and say something to negate your compliments?" Cecily grins mischievously at Paisley.
Paisley shrugs. "Not unless you want to, but if you did I'd have to pinch you and make sure you're really you."
Do I like these women already? Yes I do.
"It's nice to meet you both. I'm Mallory. Thank you for meeting with us today."
"We're more than happy to, especially after working with Jolene and hearing about your podcast." Paisley opens the laptop sitting on the desk in front of her. Cecily does the same. "Now," Paisley says, "I want to be certain upfront that I understand your needs. Jolene says that in the three-year run of Case Files you've had a higher than industry standard subscriber count, but in the last eight months you've seen a steady decline in downloads and subscribers. This impedes your ultimate goal of being picked up by a podcasting platform."
"Great summary," I respond.
Paisley turns to Cecily, giving her the floor. Cecily launches in, saying, "Low subscriber count and fewer downloads are not your real problem." Cecily is no-nonsense, something I appreciate. "Those are only symptoms of your issue. A quick peek of your social media accounts showed me you post infrequently, and whenyou do post, the content isn't attractive. If a true crime podcast is storytelling, then so is social media. It's not a whodunit, but more of aI bet I can make you want to know who did it."
Cecily's way of talking about the intersectionality between true crime and social media has me feeling enthusiastic. Peanut, too, based on the bubbles tumbling around my belly. My midsection isn't visible on screen, so I give Peanut a stroke in response.
"Love it," Jolene says, practically vibrating with excitement.
The front door opens suddenly, and Hugo strides through. He holds his left wrist, hand in the air. From where I'm set up at the dining room table, every lady on my screen has a full view of him.
"Pardon the interruption," he says apologetically. "I cut my hand on a piece of machinery. Couldn't find the first aid kit at the office, so I had to come back for the one I keep here."
"It's ok," I assure him, fighting the urge to go to him and inspect his wound.
Jolene says hello, and before I can introduce the women on the screen, Cecily says, "Hugo?"
She wears an expression of familiarity, like she's seen a long lost friend. Inside me, a little green monster rears its ugly head.
Did they date? Did he care for her? Were they intimate?
Hugo comes closer, and I see it now, the blood trickling down the inside of his palm. He stands behind mychair, and I'm struck by the two of us on the same screen. I've noticed our image in storefronts before, but we're usually moving, and it's too fleeting to get a proper look. This is a reminder of what I saw that day in the dressing room, how good we look together.
"Cecily," Hugo says, sharing her tone of friendly wonderment. "It's been a long time since you've been home. It's nice to see you."
Home must be Olive Township. Definitely an ex, then. High school sweethearts, maybe?
She laughs uncomfortably. "It's not home I'm avoiding. It's a few certain someones who reside there."
Hugo nods knowingly, lifting his hand. "I better tend to this cut."
He waves with his good hand and walks away slightly faster than his usual gait.
"Mallory, you're in Olive Township?" Cecily asks.
I nod, about to answer when Jolene says, "She went for the spa but stayed for?—"
"A possible story," I cut in quickly. Jolene could've been about ready to say anything, and I fear it was a word starting with the letter D. That joke is better for girlfriends sipping margaritas. Jolene might know these women well, but I don't.
"Something for the podcast?" Paisley asks, steering us back on course.
"Uh, yes." I glance down the hall to check for Hugo. I don't like saying what I'm about to say so plainly in front of him. "I'm looking into the unsolved murder of Simon De la Vega."
