“For them, yes. For us, it's a disaster. We need someone who can hit the ground running with three weeks until our season opener.”
She slides a folder across the polished conference table. “I'll be honest with you, Ms. Hayes. Normally, we wouldn't go with such a small events company for a contract of this magnitude. But after the disappointment with Signature Events, we're willing to take a chance on someone who might actually care about delivering quality work.”
I was right. This woman definitely doesn't pull any punches. “I appreciate your candor, Ms. McCall,” I say, meeting her direct gaze. “And I can assure you that Hayes & Company won't let you down. We might be small, but we're dedicated, and we'll fight for every detail to make sure your events exceed expectations. Thank you for giving us this opportunity.”
I open the folder and almost choke on my own saliva.
$2.2 million.
Two point two million dollars for a season's worth of events.
That's more money than Hayes & Company has ever made.
“The timeline is aggressive,” Jennifer continues, not noticing that I've temporarily lost the ability to form words. “Season kickoff gala in three weeks, then eleven more major events through playoffs. Corporate sponsors, high-net-worth donors, media events, charity fundraisers. Think you can handle it?”
Can I handle it? Lady, for $2.2 million, I would plan a wedding reception on Mars during a meteor shower.
“Oh yes. A hundred percent sure,” I say, trying not to grin like a fool. And just like that, Hayes & Company goes from near bankruptcy to the big leagues.
“Excellent. I'll have contracts drawn up immediately. Oh, and Harper?”
“Yes?”
“Welcome to the Renegades family.”
Back at the office,I gather Jessica, James, and Amber around the conference table and watch their faces transform from resignation to shock to pure elation, as I explain our new reality.
“Three weeks,” Jessica repeats, already pulling up vendor contacts on her laptop. “For a season kickoff gala.”
“At the Rainbow Room,” I add, consulting the preliminary notes Jennifer gave me. “Five hundred guests, including major sponsors and media.”
James whistles. “That's ambitious.”
“That's impossible,” Amber corrects, but she's grinning as she says it.
“No,” I say firmly, “that's our job now.”
We spend the next four hours diving into logistics. Jessica calls caterers while James tackles venue coordination. Amber creates spreadsheets for everything from guest lists to timeline management.
The room hums with focused intensity. We're all running on pure adrenaline.
By six o'clock, we have a skeleton of a plan. It's rough, it's ambitious, and it's going to require everything we've got in our arsenal. But for the first time in years, I'm not worried about finances.
The drive home through Manhattan traffic gives me time to process what just happened. My phone buzzes with a call from Brett, and I almost answer before thinking better of it.
I'm dying to tell him about the contract, but I know my brother. Within five minutes, he’ll be calling half the team to tell them to keep an eye on his little sister.
No. I've worked too hard to build my reputation on merit alone to have it overshadowed by nepotism accusations now. I'll tell him once I'm settled, once I've proven I can handle this.
I'm still buzzing with excitement until I unlock my apartment door and step into an inch of water.
“Oh, fuck.”
I stare in disbelief at my hardwood floor, which is completely submerged. My beautiful Persian rug, the one I saved for six months to buy, is completely ruined.
My phone rings just as the first tears of frustration threaten to spill over. It’s Brett again. “Hey,” I answer, wading through the disaster zone that used to be my living room.
Why would this happen to me, of all days? I get the biggest contract of my life, and I come home to a disaster. I should be celebrating with champagne right now, not coming home to a soggy mess.
