Astrid slides in. “We’re building an app to help friend groups become more diverse,” she says, and we’re already hooked in more, both by her accent and by her word choice. “Data shows that most people stay in their little bubbles—politically, geographically, racially, you name it. Our app will match you with people outside your bubble. Expand your world, expand your heart.”
“I like it,” Tara says straightaway. “Exactly what we need in this divisive age.”
She’s always the most optimistic judge on our Shark Tank panel. I’m the toughest and love living up to the reputation.
“It’s a decent concept,” I admit, beginning with praise so the criticism won’t smack so hard. “Though definitely don’t use the wordsdiversityorinclusion—everyone knows that movement is dead. And who are your customers? The people who need this app most won’t download it. They like their homogeneous echo chambers, cling to them.”
“That’s true for the extremists,” Hal says. “But there’s a large segment—the forgotten middle, we call them—that want to meet people from other walks of life; they’re just too lazy to put in the work themselves. So they’ll outsource it to us, and we’ll make it easy for them.” She delivers the words with the air of someone who’s already raised millions and now can’t be bothered explaining herself to commoners like us.
“What’s the monetization play?” I ask.
“Monetization isn’t important in the early innings,” Hal says.I can tell she’s annoyed by my question but respects it too, how I’ve learned my business lingo. “It’s all about customer growth and retention. Once we have people hooked, the options are endless. Subscription model, ad revenue, it goes on.”
“Hmm,” I say. “I’m not sold.” It hinges on the marketing, I tell them. “You could hire me for your launch campaign, if I get an equal split of equity,” I say.
“You’re insane,” Hal says. “No way we’re diluting our shares.”
But Hal’s confidence looks a bit rattled from my grilling, which isn’t what I intended.
“Look,” I say. “Even if your product was the worst thing in the world—which I’m not saying this is. But even if it was a complete fraud, a total hoax, I’d have faith you could sell it to anyone with a pulse. Maybe a few corpses too.”
This cheers Hal right away. It makes me want to drop a few more compliments on her now and then, give her a boost without bloating her ego. “We’re applying to a female founders accelerator,” she says. “They’d give us some funds as we bootstrap, so say your prayers and cross your fingers.”
“You know I don’t pray,” I say. “But consider my fingers crossed.” I twist them together, fingers and toes, until I’m in a pretzel. “You’ll get it for sure.”
“I know,” she says. “Now enough with the distractions. It’s time for you to hold up your end of the deal. Show us the script.”
“What’s the story about?” Astrid asks, as if Hal hasn’t told her everything, ratted me out.
“It’s nothing really,” I say. “It’s just inspired by a fight I had with someone the other week. Just a play set in a diner, that’s all.”
“A breakup script,” Astrid says approvingly. “I adore it already.”
“No, no, it wasn’t a breakup,” I correct. “Chris and I have only ever been friends. Not even great friends. We only hang out when I babysit his dog. It’s that kind of relationship.Non-relationship.” I bumble over my words, cheeks heating.
“Do you think you’ll show it to him?” Tara asks. “As a sort of peace offering?”
“Definitely not,” I say. “I’m not showing it to anyone. Not yet at least. Besides, it’s fiction, I told you.”
Astrid is trying to follow the conversation. It makes me hope that perhaps Hal didn’t tell her everything, didn’t dump my secrets into the pile of jelly beans and clothes they share.
“Wait, what did I miss here?” Astrid says. “Why aren’t you dating?”
“Good question,” Hal mutters under her breath. Even Tara pinches her mouth, the lines around her lips shaped like two parentheses, encasing the same afterthought.
“An innumerable number of reasons,” I say, feeling ambushed. “We’d be here all night if I listed them all.”
“I’m not in a rush,” Tara says. It’s true; she’s in a lull between shows and bartending shifts.
“We’re not either,” Hal adds. “Astrid and I have outperformed our weekly goals already, and it’s only Wednesday.”
“Good for you,” I mutter.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hal says. “I just meant that it would be good to hear why you and Chris aren’t together. The real reasons.”
I bristle. “What do you mean, the real reasons?”
“Well, as opposed to the fake reasons. You know, like that he has a girlfriend or that he’s not your type.”
