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“Yeah, but it feels a little like making a deal with the devil. Do I do devil deals? I’m not sure I can.”
Michael Stoneking was a entrepreneur interested in opening a franchise location of Bordeauxnuts uptown, near Columbus Circle. He’d fallen in love with the café and its concept after stumbling upon an influencer’s blog and visiting a few times. Apparently, he wanted to be a part of the Bordeauxnuts family and open his own branch.
“The upside is a franchise store brings in cash flow that could help fund an additional location of mine.” She paused. “The downside is that he owns a piece of my brand. Do I want to hand over my baby to some man I barely know just because he has money? Bordeauxnuts is what it is because of us, the love we put into what we do every day.” Jamie touched her chest, her feelings running away from her like water poured from a jug. “I believe in our store and our mission. Can he say the same?”
Leo touched his thumb to his chin. “Look, I think that’s what this meeting might tell you.”
“Okay, okay. Good point.” She wrapped her arms around herself, a comfort mechanism that had become habit, and checked the clock. “Can you start the first batch of doughnuts while I take delivery of the pastries?” She eyed their supplier, pulling up to the curb in his white truck of goodies.
“Let’s roll,” he said with a game-time clap. The day got off to a whirlwind of a start with a line out the door, but she and her team were in their groove, bopping to Leo’s hits playlist he’d designed especially for their morning grind, pun intended. Her regulars rolled in, followed by the semiregulars. Even Jessica Lennox made a dazzling appearance in maroon pants, a black shirt, and heels. The woman was a corporate rock star and always looked the part.
Jamie beamed as she approached the counter. “Ms. Lennox, looking like dynamite today.” Her hair was down and formed the perfect S swish just past her shoulders.
Her eyes lit up. “You’re always so good for my ego.”
“I simply speak the truth. Americano for you this morning?”
“Yes, please. I have no idea how you keep everyone’s order straight.”
“My most impressive gift.” She slid the cup down the counter to Leo.
But Jessica seemed to hesitate before she said, “Hey, Jamie. I’d love to talk to you when you’re less busy about a charity event I’m spearheading. I’d love to have your insight on the committee. I feel like you have your finger on the pulse of this city.”
It was a compliment. “Oh. Really? Me?” She’d never been asked to be a part of anything as important before, and she knew everything Jessica touched was.
“Yes. The commitment consists of a handful of meetings and the event itself, raising funds for Hope and Help. It’s a leg up for formerly incarcerated women reentering the workforce. They do amazing work.”
“Yes. I would love to help.” Jamie perked up because this was an especially good cause.
“Do you have a card I could steal while I get out of this nice gentleman’s way so he can order his coffee?”
“Here you go.” She handed Jessica her business card from beneath the counter.
She held it up and picked up her Americano from Leo. “I’ll be in touch.”
“She looks important,” Genevieve said from behind her laptop as Jessica breezed out of the café like a boss. “I might be about to put her in this book.” She fanned herself. “Wowza. Inspiration in a pair of killer heels.”
Jamie laughed. “Happy to help.”
“Why do you think I come here?”
“Sex inspo and doughnuts.”
“You know me well.”
Three o’clock rolled around, and there was no Michael Richpants, which was the nickname she’d assigned to her potential franchisee. She sat at the table by the window in the sparsely occupied bar, sipping a hot blueberry latte, and waiting on a businessman to pitch her. What an odd feeling. She shifted, watching the sidewalk, wondering if she got the time wrong. Fifteen minutes after the hour, he breezed in with a charismatic smile, wearing jeans and flip-flops.
“Hi, Michael,” she said, standing. Butterflies danced a salsa in her midsection. She still didn’t know how she felt about this whole thing and didn’t want to make the wrong decision. This was an importantopportunity for her, but was it the right one? Why did this feel like such a huge crossroads?
“Jamie, there you are. Glad you agreed to this meeting.” He held up a hand, not giving her a moment to respond, nor apologizing for being late. “You’re going to love this offer. I’m telling you. We’re gonna kill it together.” He took a seat and began shuffling through his messenger bag for a manilla folder, clearly wanting to get right to it. She had the distinct feeling he was fitting her in.
“I’m interested to hear your offer, but I just have to be blunt and say that I’m concerned about—”
“I know. I hear you. That’s what today is about, right? Making sure you’re comfortable before we move forward.”
She felt the urge to keep up with his fast pace and decided to get right to the heart of her concerns before he ran her over like a garbage truck late for its route. “My first question is who is going to run the bar? As in, be in charge.”
He eyed her. “I’ll hire a suitable manager, and a selection of employees.” He said it easily, like it was something he did every day. He likely did.
