Page 14 of Tied Up in Riches

“Yeah. An outside investor could help us with that. If we can mass produce this, we’ll be able to afford to change the design a bit to avoid confusion.”

“So, it’s not a pregnancy test?”

“Nope,” Emma takes over. She reaches past Marcus and pulls the small clear cap off the end of the flat plastic. “Instead of peeing on this part to detect pregnancy, you stick it in your drink at the bar. Then–do you see that screen?” It looks nearly identical to where a pregnancy test would show one or two lines. I nod. “That tells you if your drink contains date rape drugs. It tests for GHB, Rohypnol and Valium–the most common.”

My mouth falls open as Charlotte cuts in. “Unfortunately, we haven’t found a way to make them reusable, but they are small enough that you can always carry a few with you.”

“And tell her what makes them unique compared to others on the market,” Marcus interjects.

“We’ve created a test strip that's far more affordable than anything that currently exists and is equally as effective.” Both women grin.

“And your marketing plan?”

“We do plan to market toward women, but we don’t think it should be fully their responsibility to avoid assholes. We want to focus on selling in bulk to bars.”

“How are you going to convince them it should be their responsibility?” I can’t help myself from asking. I glance at Marcus, hoping I’m not overstepping, but the corner of his lip twitches up into a smirk, reassuring me. This is new territory for me, not just with him, but with my opinion being requested and valued in a business setting.

“Great question. That is a risk, but we have a few ideas. We want to position it as a marketing tactic for bars to prove they care about the well-being of their guests and that they won’t turn a blind eye to the crime. If they order enough at once, it should pay off more than it will hurt. It will only cost about three cents to manufacture, and we’ll charge ten. But if women have the choice between a bar that provides a test with every drink and one that doesn’t, we’re confident the extra business will easily make up for the added costs. It will also be a tax write-off.”

“Wow.” This sounds . . . I glance at Marcus. He’s leaned back in the black computer chair, his elbows on the armrests and his fingers pressed into each other across his lap. How much does it even cost to invest in something like this? How does he own a bar and have that kind of money? Maybe the bar is a loan? Or maybe he’s just rich, Brooke. I banish the thought from my head, refusing to believe that’s the case.

“Do you have any more questions?” Marcus asks me.

I shake my head. I don’t know the first thing about investing, and I see why he said it would be good to have a woman with him. I just want to be the credibility he needs to show he’s a good guy. “No. This sounds amazing.”

He eyes me like he’s questioning my honest opinion, then turns back to the women. “As you know, I would love to form a partnership with you. What is your proposal?”

The women look at each other, Emma nodding at Charlotte to speak. “Contingent on your ability to get us access to a factory to mass produce at the costs we are aiming for, we’re asking for the upfront cost of 100,000 units to prevent the need for preorders and help creating and managing a system to track said orders. In return, we can offer ten percent of our company.”

“Thank you, ladies. May I have a moment alone with my assistant, please?”

“Yes, of course.” They exit the room.

Marcus only turns to me once the door has closed behind them. “What do you think?”

“About the deal?”

“Yes. Do you think we should accept?”

I can’t help but wonder if he’s asking out of courtesy, for appearance, or because he genuinely wants my opinion. I doubt it’s the latter. He seems to know what he’s doing, and he doesn’t know me. “Umm. Well, I have a question.”

He nods permission to ask.

“How many units have they sold so far? What are their profits?”

“They haven’t sold a single one. And they are about twenty thousand in debt.”

My eyes widen. “Well, from a business standpoint, accepting the deal would be a major risk. They are valuing their company at . . .” 100,000 units times three cents. $3,000 doesn’t seem like a huge investment in the grand scheme of things, but that’s not including the time it’ll take to do the accounting. And for only ten percent of the company. “$30,000. That’s hardly more than what they owe.”

A smirk flashes across his face. Oh, he was testing me, to see if I knew that. “Do you think this business could be profitable?”

“There’s no real proof, but my gut tells me yes.” I’m definitely a trust your gut kind of girl.

“What’s more important? The numbers or your gut?”

“Both. But if I have to choose, I’d say gut. As long as it’s not clouded by poor judgment.”

“Do you think this is a worthwhile investment?”

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