1
Harper
I stare at my laptop screen where our financial spreadsheet mocks me with its sea of red numbers, and wonder if there's a tactful way to tell my team we're basically screwed.
“How are we looking for this month?” I ask, trying not to sound as desperate as I feel.
The silence in my SoHo conference room is thick enough to bottle and sell as a premium product. Which, considering our current financial state, isn't the worst business idea I've had lately.
“I've confirmed three events for November,” Jessica says. She's our senior events coordinator and my right-hand person for the past five years, but I don't know how much longer I'll be able to afford her. “The Whitman anniversary party, the tech startup launch, and the gallery opening.”
I do quick math in my head, which is never a good sign when you're supposed to be a successful business owner. “That's what, maybe thirty thousand total?”
“Twenty-eight,” Amber, our administrative manager, says quietly.
Twenty-eight thousand dollars.Our monthly overhead is fifty-five thousand. Even my liberal arts degree can handle that brutal equation.
“Right.” I take a sip of my now-cold coffee, and the bitterness of it fills my mouth. “What about the Henderson wedding?”
James winces. “They went with Platinum Events.”
We can’t compete with the likes of Platinum Events, with their army of coordinators and unlimited budget.
Even after five years of grinding to build Hayes & Company Events from nothing, we're still small fish in an ocean of corporate event giants. Our client list is limited to small corporate gatherings and the occasional gallery opening, which pays just enough to keep our office lights on for another month.
“They said they needed a larger team for an event of this magnitude,” James adds, with a defeated shrug.
I look around at my team. Three incredibly talented people who've stuck with me through two recessions and a global pandemic.
And I might have to let one of them go.
The thought makes my stomach twist.
“What if we sublease part of the office?” Amber suggests, because she's twenty-three and still believes in miracles.
“No.” I smile to soften my tone. “We're not there yet.”
But we are. Amber is saving for her wedding to her college sweetheart. James is supporting his mom after her stroke last year. Jessica is drowning in student loans from her fancy event management degree.
And here I am, their fearless leader, about to captain this ship straight into an iceberg. “Look,” I say, forcing confidence I don't feel into my voice. “It's September. Fall season is always busy. Something big will come through.”
Jessica shoots me a skeptical look. “Harper, I've already reached out to all our usual corporate contacts. Everyone is cutting event budgets for the rest of the year.”
“Then we find new contacts.” I'm grasping at straws, and we all know it, but sometimes hope is all you have. “We pivot. We innovate. We?—”
My phone rings, cutting off what was going to be an inspiring speech about perseverance. It’s an unknown number with a NYC area code.
I almost don't answer. Unknown numbers in Manhattan are usually either telemarketers or landlords, and I'm not in the mood for either. But desperate times and all that. “Hayes & Company, this is Harper.”
“Ms. Hayes? This is Jennifer McCall from the New York Renegades.”
I sit up straighter, nearly knocking over my sad coffee. Why would the Renegades be calling me? The only connection I have with them is Cole, the captain of the team, and my brother’s best friend.
Oh, yes, and the fact that we pitched to be their events coordinator this season, knowing very well that there was no chance we would get it. I know they already gave out that contract, so why are they calling me?
“Could you come to our arena offices this afternoon? We have a business proposition that might interest you.”
Business proposition. Those are my two favorite words in the English language, right after ‘open bar’ and ‘unlimited budget.’
