“Dice?”Iasked, annoyed thatIso readily recognised the sound. “Howthe hell are dice going to solve this problem?”
Chloe rolled her eyes and reached behind her for the cardboard box we’d packed our decorations in. “Wecan use them to lure people in,” she said. “Basicconsumer psychology.”
I decided to humour her, passing her aSharpiefrom the supply kit when she asked for it.Shecarefully wrote something on the cardboard, then tried to prop it up against the box on the table.Itwouldn’t stay at first, but then she reached up to her head, where she’d been sporting two delicate braids wrapping from her temples to where they met in the back, and produced two bobby pins, using them to attach the makeshift sign to one plank of the crate.
“Voila!” she said, standing up and gesturing triumphantly to it.Icame around to the front to read it.
ROLLFORMEAD
Free dice roll with any purchase! +1 to your roll for every product you’ve already bought.
Natural 20–FreeGwenynenbundle!
16–20– 30% off one item
11–15– 20% off one item
6–10– 10% off one item
2–5– 5% off one item
Natural 1– womp, womp…
“What might that be?”Iasked, pointing at “FreeGwenynenbundle”.Chloesmiled sheepishly and pushed forward a jar of honey and a bottle of mead.
“No way,”Isaid. “It’stoo much.”
“They only have a five per cent chance of rolling that,” she said, “and we’ve sold approximately nothing.Plus, people can only roll after they make a purchase.”
I had to admit that did help, but it didn’t solve our main problem. “And, remind me, how are we getting people to purchase to begin with?”
Chloe jabbed theSharpiein the air in a kind of “eureka!” motion.Thenshe reached into the cash box, took two ten-pound notes, and disappeared from behind the table.
“Seriously?”Icalled after her. “Robbingme is your solution?”
ButIwatched as she approached a chutney and jams vendor, sweet-talked him for a moment in a way that would have read as flirty ifIhadn’t known she was gay, and then accepted something from him, thoughIcouldn’t see what.Shestrutted back over to our table– and, yes, strutting was the only word to describe the cocky sashay she did as she returned– and smacked three sleeves of sample cups onto the table.
“There’s more where that came from,” she said, then tucked a ten pound note into my front pocket, her touch leaving a hot sear behind. “AndIdidn’t even need all the cash.”
* * *
I hated to admit it,butChloehad been right.Oncewe opened a bottle and started handing out samples, we started moving mead faster thanI’dever seen.Westill weren’t doing honey samples, but people bought jars once they’d tasted the mead, or they rolled a discount, which compelled them to splash out a bit more.Itwas genius.
Actually,Iloved to admit it.Because, as much asIwished it had been my idea,Iwas just relieved we didn’t need to slash all of our prices to move the stock.Ireminded myself thatChloesucceeding was a good thing – sure, the budget for my salary had been used to hire her, but if she actually managed to help grow the farm, that would all come back, right?
We did start to get very toasty behind the table from the afternoon sun filtering through the marquee, the humidity gathering beneath it, and the fact that we were now moving around like madmen trying to speak and sell to everyone who stopped by.Thefestivalgoers created a wall of heat and sound just beyond the table.Kidswith ice cream-covered mouths smeared them on the tablecloth.Oldmen in flat caps sampled every booth in a straight line, and the line at our stall got so thick at one point thatIhad to shout the mead descriptions to people standing three rows back.Iwiped down the dice obsessively, cringing as they got sticky from grubby kid hands – and equally grubby adult hands.
In a rare lull at the beginning of a new music set, we stopped and looked at one another, andItook in howChloe’sred face and heavy breathing matched my own.
“The dice were a great idea,” she said, unsticking a strand of hair from her forehead, “butImiss my pins.Ineed to put this up.”
“Tell me about it,”Isaid, holding my hair up to expose my neck to a breeze that didn’t come. “It’ssweltering.”
“Here,”Chloesaid, motioning for me to turn around. “Letme.”
“I don’t have a hair tie,”Iadmitted. “Remindme to add that to the supply list for the next event though.”
“You don’t need one,” she said. “Yourhair looks thick enough.”
