AllFreeNovel
Share Us
1
BLAKE
When I said it was okay to go on the record, I wasn’t trying to pick a fight with sexy billionaire Gabriel Mercer, I swear. But as my number two is kindly pointing out, that might be what I’m about to get.
Evan pulls his blond hair, saying, “Did you really have to slander our biggest competitor in a national newspaper?”
I lean back in my chair and grimace at my second in command. “Slander? What I said wasn’t slander.”
Evan brandishes a printout of The Wall Street Journal article that came out today to celebrate my new gym opening and quotes my words back to me. “I wouldn’t call receiving an ivy-league education debt-free along with all the connections certain schools bring, and having your start-up money handed to you on a silver platter, being self-made. You basically called him a spoiled brat.”
“But I also said very positive things about him…”
I ask Evan for the printout and search for the right passage. “‘Gabriel Mercer,’” I read aloud, “‘is a skillful entrepreneur,’ he said.” I pause for a moment, puzzled. “Oh, a typo, they’ve turned me into a man. Can you call the paper and have them rectify it?”
Evan grabs the sheet of paper from me. “He, she… must be the most common typo in the book.” His eyes frantically scan the rest of the text. “You’re a she everywhere else. Readers will get that you’re a woman.”
“I’d still like the online version to be corrected.”
“Will do, chief. Anyway, being turned into a man isn’t the problem. You picking a fight with Gabriel Mercer is.”
“I only said he isn’t self-made, which is factual.”
“Still, Gabriel Mercer won’t appreciate being called a rich boy in the press. Why did you have to go on the record stating it?”
“I run my mouth, okay? I made a mistake. When the reporter cited him as an example of a self-made entrepreneur, I just lost my marbles that she’d call someone with so much privilege, so much access, self-made. And then she wouldn’t strike the comment no matter how many times I asked, so… spilled milk.”
“Should we post a retraction?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s true and because that would bring even more attention to it. Maybe Mercer won’t even read the article.”
“I promise you, that man has a Google alert for his name.”
“Then so be it.” I throw my hands in the air. “I don’t have time to deal with potentially hurt, fragile male egos, I have a cardio class to teach in less than one hour. But I want to go over the Apex pitch first.”
Apex is the largest producer of fitness watches and trackers in the country and they’re looking for a new sponsor partnership. I want it.
Evan plonks onto the chair opposite my desk. “I’ve updated the presentation; our social media growth is exponential and our reach unparalleled.”
I bite the top of a pen, taking in Evan’s gloomy face. “But?”
“But if you shrink down the numbers to the US market only, they’re not as impressive. And I’ve heard their marketing director is more of a traditional—”
“Dinosaur?” I finish the phrase for him. “Let’s launch a new campaign to improve our domestic numbers, bring Cara in on this,” I say, referring to the head of marketing. “Have her come to me with a few ideas. Anything else we can do to juice ourselves up for Apex?”
“Unless you plan on becoming a fifty-year-old white male with 2,500 physical locations, I don’t think so.”
Shed twenty years off that description and he’s basically described Gabriel Mercer.
I frown. “Is Power Training in the run for the bid?”
“Bidders are confidential, but we can assume Apex has reached out to them. And now you’ve given Mercer an extra reason to crush us.”
“Then let’s make sure our pitch is airtight.” I drop the pen to avoid chewing on the back out of stress and stand up. “I have to go change now or I’ll be late for class.”
