“Come on, EJ. That’s Business 101, isn’t it? Always have your pitch in your pocket, ready to go.”
Her heart rankled at the condescension, even if it was true. For a second, she wished Jordan were here to advise her. He might be overly protective at times, but he had a good head on his shoulders and could sometimes sense things. A previous pastor had said that Jordan had the gift of discernment, that he possessed a special kind of wisdom that could sense people’s motives and make a good judgement about what to do. And right now, there was something about Gwen’s pushiness that she didn’t quite like. It felt a little like Lionel’s manipulative practices at Donwell, yet a softer, nicer, better dressed version. But this time she had no Jordan to back her up.
“EJ? Are you still there?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Look, it’s no biggie if you can’t tonight. But it may mean that some of the interested parties won’t be around next weekend or whenever it is you think you might be ready.”
She closed her eyes.Lord?Nothing was clear. “Um, okay.”
“Great! Look, I happen to know this little bistro in Darling Harbour. I’m sure I can pull a few strings and get them to set aside a private room for us.”
“For us? How many people are we talking?”
“Look, just a few. Maybe half a dozen.”
“But … but I don’t have that many prospectuses printed.” They’d needed updating, and Harriet was supposed to organise a new print run.
“We don’t need a prospectus. Look at it as just another networking opportunity. All you need to do is show up and talk. You can send us hard copies of your prospectus later.”
“Um, okay.” She winced. “Tonight?”
“Tonight,” Gwen said firmly. “Let me contact the bistro now, and I’ll get back to you with the details.”
“That’s really kind of you.”
“Hey, we girls have to stick together, right?”
“Right.”
“It’s a man-eat-man world out there, so let’s let them eat each other while we go make successes of our lives.”
“Amen,” she said without thinking.
Gwen laughed again. “It’s so cute to hear you say things like that. Okay, well I’d better go make some calls. I’ll be in touch really soon.”
“Thanks.”
She hung up the phone, heart filled with wonder. She’d obviously been really wrong about Gwen. Gwen was her friend, just trying to help out a fellow member of the sisterhood.
She pushed back her shoulders, digging deep into her well-mined layers of self-confidence. Tonight would go well. She just knew it.
Chapter 8
Sweat slicked EJ’s hands as she hurried to the restaurant. Gwen had texted her the location, but the Uber driver had lost his way, and instead of arriving twenty minutes early as she’d hoped, she was now running about five minutes late. Which was never the way to make a good first impression.
Nerves made her shirt wet, and she really hoped her antiperspirant would hold up for the next two hours. She might be wearing an expensive business suit, but she felt as schlumpy as if she were wearing trackies and Uggs. She wished Maurice had answered his phone to advise her.
“It’s just a simple chat,” she muttered to herself as she clutched the leather satchel containing the handouts she’d rushed to print. They might be simple, but it was better to have something available in case anyone here wanted more information. She hoped seeing Dream Match’s app in action on her phone would be enough to get any potential investors across the line.
She hurried down a dark alleyway, really wishing that she had Jordan beside her. She’d texted him in the Uber, saying what was happening and where she was, but hadn’t had a response. Itwas dumb to think he’d drop everything and come, anyway. He was probably still in Wattle Vale celebrating his mum’s birthday. Still, it would be nice to think she had a trustworthy friend right now, especially as this was a part of Sydney she wasn’t overly familiar with.
Gratitude filled her as she recognised the wavy neon sign of the bistro twenty metres away.
“Got a spare dollar?” a man asked, slumped on the ground.
She shuddered, then felt ashamed of herself. Katie and Liv would’ve most likely bought the man a meal. And while she sponsored plenty of Asian and African orphans, there was something different about interacting with a poor person one-on-one like this.
