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“—decided he wanted to be a sad sack of self-pity and bullshit excuses.”
I shot him a glare. “That’snotwhat I said.”
“You sure? ’Cause that’s what I heard you say. Walking away from your business idea because of a setback—?”
“It was a little more than a setback,” I said angrily. “Did you hear the part where I failed to talk to Justin Hardy, my last hope? And I can’t ask Bash for contacts, Joey. I refuse. I don’t want him to think this was all about using him.”
“So we find another way! Dude.Dude. We’re Princes, and Princes don’t quit. This is the part where the story is getting good.”
I shook my head. “I’m out of ideas, Joey. I’m out of money. I’m out of… energy. And I feel like shit for lying. This isn’t quitting. It’s moving on.”
“Nope. Unacceptable. You’ve got at least one more try in you.”
I leaned back into the lumpy headrest, stared out the windshield, and groaned. “You don’t know that. I’ve contacted so many people already. It’s not that easy.”
He huffed out a laugh. “No, you know what’s not easy? Doing a backflip while holding a tiny guitar and a bag of burritos. But some of us manage it.”
I blinked at the road for a moment, then turned fully in my seat and gawked at him. “A backflip? What thehell?”
“Shhh. It’s all under control. The point is, Princes know how to do hard shit. You got a crush on someone you think is out of your league, and that sucks. Now, maybe he is and maybe he isn’t, but that’s a problem for another day. Don’t tie all that up with whether you can or can’t succeed with your project, Rowe. Focus on one problem at a time. Don’t just turn tail and run back to Indiana.” He shook his head. “Jeez. And people callmea Drama Llama.”
“No they don’t.” I tilted my head. “Who called you that?”
“I dunno.” Joey’s cheeks went red. “People.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, let’s get back to the original plan. You need to talk to Justin Hardy, so let’s figure out a way to get that done.”
I shook my head. “Bash said he’s not a good guy. He’s a user.”
Joey made a rude sound with his tongue and shot a bird over his shoulder in the general direction of Philadelphia. “Well, fuck Bash. He could hear your pitch anytime, and fund it, too, but he wouldn’t even listen.”
“Stop it.” I pointed a finger at him angrily. “Bash is generous to a fault. He gives to charities. He devotes his time and energy to helping small businesses succeed. When his friends need him in the middle of the night, herunsto help. But he’s not an ATM machine, and he doesn’t owe anyone his money or his contacts or his influence.”
Joey rolled his eyes. “God, you’ve got it bad. Okay, fine, he’s a lovely human. But he’s still on the board at Sterling Chase, and Justin Hardy is one of their biggest competitors. Asking him if you should pitch to his archnemesis is like asking me if you should eat at Sandwich Shark. Which you shouldnot. No matter how tasty their chicken parm is or how generous their portions. Understand?”
“No… but I’m kinda craving Italian now. Kidding, kidding,” I said when Joey glared at me. “You’re saying Bash is biased against Justin Hardy because they’re competitors.”
“Doesn’t that make sense? I mean… did he tell you why he didn’t like Justin? Specifically?”
“Well… no. There’s history there, but I don’t know what it is.”
“So, there you go. When you make your pitch to Justin, you can form your own opinion. We just need to think of a way to get you inside his office.”
“Right.” I huffed. “Back to the drawing board, in other words?”
Before Joey could retort, his cell began playing “The Imperial March” fromStar Warssomewhere in the back of the truck. “Shit. It’s Lea. Call her on your phone, will you? Tell her I’m just about to start the supply run.”
I dialed Lea, and the phone barely rang before she answered. “Rowe! Thank goodness. Are you with Joey?”
“Yeah, we—”
“Listen, stop him before he goes shopping. We just got ahugelunch catering order for later this week, so I’m texting him an updated supply list. And I need all hands on deck Thursday for delivery. You, Joey, everyone.”
“Not a problem,” I told her. I relayed the information to Joey, who grunted. Apparently he really did work there now. “We’ll be there—”
Joey pulled over, braking so hard my phone flew out of my hand, and I’d have hit the windshield if I wasn’t buckled in. “Holy shit!” he cried. “Holy shit, I’ve got it! The way into Hardy Development. It’s so fucking obvious. Rowe, why didn’t we think of this?”
“Think of what? Joey, you nearly killed us!”
“You deliver him a burrito,” Joey said, eyes wide like this genius plan had just been delivered to him in an ayahuasca vision. “You find yourself the best outfit Second Chance Savers has to offer, then make a burrito delivery to Justin Hardy. Hit him where it counts.In his belly. Then, once you’ve got him where you want him,boom, pitch the deal and leave him gagging for more.”
