From time to time, Bradley leans over and whispers in Carter’s ear. Carter nods, whispers back, and this goes on and on for the next several minutes of my presentation.
It’s rude. It takes everything in me to control my tone and my face as the frustration builds within me.
Bradley, eyes on the packet in front of him, clears his throat and holds up his hand as if this gesture alone will stop everyone in their tracks. “I’m not seeing comparables here. Can you show me past rebranding efforts and how they’ve paid off so that we can compare your projections to your history?” He leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers, one ankle crossed over the other knee.
I clench my teeth. “This will be our first full-scale rebrand. We are, however, confident in our approach. Our team has done extensive research, and our projections are both realistic and optimistic.”
“So, to make sure I’m understanding correctly, this is something you’ve never done before?” Bradley asks.
“Not on this scale, no.” I clasp my hands in front of me, my knuckles are turning white.
Viv jumps in. “However, we have smaller-scale rebrands that have been very successful. We can?—”
Bradley holds up a hand again, snapping his eyes to Viv, as ifseeing her for the first time. Something flashes in his expression—interest?—before it becomes a mask of indifference again.
Holding his stare for a beat, Bradley leans and whispers into Carter’s ear. Carter scrunches his eyebrows, whispers something in return, and then upon Bradley’s response, drops his shoulders, nodding his agreement.
“A rebrand of this scale is quite the undertaking. It’s an even riskier investment when working with an agency that hasn’t worked on this level before.”
Oh no. No, no, no.
“We need a more established, larger agency that has both the resources and the knowledge to execute a rebrand of this magnitude.” Bradley’s tone is direct, leaving no room for discussion, but I need to try.
“I understand the reservation, howe?—”
“This account is out of your league.” He flips his packet closed and moves to stand. “Perhaps gain a little more experience. Work your way up.”
“With all due respect, our projections are strong. If you look at—” Viv flips the screen to the slide with the projections for the return on investment.
“No. The safest plan, both financially and for this rebrand, is to go with an agency that has the experience and history of success that we need to make this work. It’s my job to weigh the risk and reward for my client and, simply put, there’s more risk with your agency than reward.” He pats Carter on the shoulder. “I think we’re all set here.”
Carter clears his throat and stands, shaking hands with the former hotel owners before turning to us. “Thanks, ladies. Good luck to you.” He exits the conference room quickly.
Eden and Reed Barrows appear before us with confusion etched across their faces. They each shake our hands, thanking us for the time spent, and exit behind Carter.
Bradley is the last to leave. He stops in front of me, eyessquinting like he’s trying to work something out. “Have we met before?”
My shock swiftly morphs into murderous rage. Is this man serious?
“Ah!” Bradley snaps his fingers. “The steakhouse, right?” He leaves the recognition hanging there, regarding me with his piercing blue eyes. His gaze slides over to Viv, giving her a long look before sighing and buttoning his suit jacket. “Trust me when I tell you this, ladies, I’m saving you a mountain of trouble. Have a nice day.” He winks.Winks!
The room falls still; the clock ticking is the only sound. Viv paces over to the conference table, stopping and planting her hands on the shiny laminate top.
“What the hell just happened?” Viv says slowly, lifting her head to look me in the eye.
“That”—both palms drag down my cheeks—“was Bradley Casselton.”
“Bradley…” She thinks about this for a minute, and then recognition dawns. “As in… you’re too old, your job is cute, Bad Date Bradley?Thatis Bradley Casselton?” Her voice is shrill as she pieces it together.
“The one and only.” My voice is thick with defeat.
Viv pinches the bridge of her nose, her other hand on her hip, and releases a long breath. “Why is it always the pretty ones?”
Viv and I are quiet in the back of the town car while it drives full speed ahead down the highway toward home.
The silence is deafening.
“Maybe I should have—” I start.
