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I nod. “Arrange it with Savi.”
“Of course.” She stops at the door. “See you later. I mean, tomorrow? Or would you rather I always come when you’re not here?”
For the love of god, stop saying come.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning. In workplace-appropriate attire, please.”
As soon as my door clicks closed, I call Horse.
“You free for lunch?”
“Your office or mine?”
“Yours. Definitely yours.”
I look back at my laptop and the work I’ve been trying to do. In the ten minutes that Virginia’s been in my space, I’ve managed to type all of one question when normally I’d have bashed out a full page. I stare at the topic, “Episode 723: How to manage time with the wrong people, with guest Artemis Hagel.”
The Power Hour podcast is my contribution to the business bottom line when I’m not delivering seminars. It’s easier, that’s for sure, but boring as shit, which makes it an enormous energy suck. I have to appear to be interested in the stories from these medium-success businesses, all of which at one time or another have participated in the Come Into Power weekend.
From a Will Power & Bros. business perspective, it’s a brilliant strategy since the only way to get on my show is to have first paid $2000 to be in my seminar audience. Entrepreneurs that have joined the Power Broker Program are guaranteed a spot. The rest are by application, which gives the team several upsell opportunities. It is a time-intensive undertaking that requires a dozen staff people, but according to Brian (the financial brains of the Power brotherhood), the podcast contributes substantially to our bottom line.
And so, I do my part—ask deep questions, make astute observations, and offer detailed analyses of our guests’ businesses. I smile and nod, hating every minute of it.
I stare mid office at the chrome-and-glass table covered in green, a small burst of life in an otherwise sterile space. It’s only been a week, and just for fifteen minutes a day, but I miss Virginia’s energy, distracting as it is. She obviously loves how she makes her living. And paltry as her income is, she appears happy—happier getting up to come to work than I am, that’s for sure. Though knowing she’ll be arriving at nine makes dragging my ass down the two floors from my condo to my office significantly more appealing.
I stare at the empty space in front of the plant table and imagine her quietly, but not silently, dancing to music I can’t hear, breathing out life that I can’t feel, and I am envious of her freedom. It’s the same feeling that drove me to humiliate her onstage. But now, knowing her, even as little as I do, I wonder what I might learn from her and the way she approaches her business.
How did she discover her aptitude with plants?
What made her think she could have a career as a plant whisperer?
What did John Liu see in her and her business that made him believe it could be a million-dollar enterprise?
I start typing questions as quickly as they come to mind, not worrying about the typos since my fingers can’t keep up with my brain.
Once I have a page, I create a new file, upload it to the shared drive, then send a message to John Liu and Catherine, the company’s new Power Hour Podcast producer. I ask John to prep Virginia and to let me and Catherine know when she’s ready for her sixty minutes of fame-by-association.
It may be a little premature for Virginia to be a guest since she doesn’t have a book to hype, a product to pitch or a franchise to promote. What she has to offer is a personality that will appeal to a new-to-us audience that will benefit Will Power & Bros. more than The Other Side of the Fence, but it certainly won’t hurt her business.
Imagining her across the mic from me gives me an idea. I message my other two brothers and ask if they can meet in Horse’s office for lunch.
Three hours later, just before noon, I step out of my suite. Savi and Virginia are seated in the giant armchairs in my waiting area, drinking what look like lattes, laughing.
“Hey, Will,” Savannah greets me with a smile. She’s always smiling, which I take to mean she enjoys her job. “Virginia was just telling me about some of her more memorable fashion faux pas.”
“The vulva dress made the list, I assume.” I wink at Virginia.
She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. “Top position.”
I look at my shoes but still don’t avoid imagining Virginia in the top position.
“I think it’s a gorgeous dress, and if someone sees more than flowers, it simply means they need to get laid.”
My shock at Savannah’s comment comes out as a cough, quickly followed by anger. “Too far, Ms. Cook,” I warn.
Savannah grimaces. “I am so sorry, Mr. Power. That was entirely inappropriate.”
“I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Please be finished in my office by then, Ms. Beach.” I leave the ladies sitting in silence and head toward the elevator bank to get to Horse’s office on the other side of the building. We all have basically identical office suites on the same floor, each taking a corner. Our private elevator only stops at five floors: ground level, these offices, and three floors of living suites. The four of us each have half a floor to call home. The penthouse, Mother’s, is the full 9,000 square feet.
