Page 110 of All Signs Point to Malibu

“What one element—more than any other—makes a person or entity successful? The ‘IT factor’ that ensures success above all else.”

Good question. I take a deep breath before my true feelings pour out. “The truth is, my business is based on the concept that there are magical rules to success and that I somehow know what they are and you don’t, but if you want something,trulywant it, it will happen, because you’ll do the work to get there, to reach those goals at all costs.”

The crowd is much more engaged now.

“I can help—” I gesture toward Spencer “—Spencer can help, but we can only offer advice and at the end of the day, the decisions, the choices are up to you. Putting in the work consistently is up to you. Believing and having faith even through setbacks and failures is up to you. Knowing in your core that you want this dream to become a reality and drowning out the noise of haters and naysayers is up to you. It takes commitment, dedication, focus but that’s something we all know—it’s no secret,” I say and take a deep breath. “But sometimes what can make the difference is someone truly believing in you to help you reach those goals.” I’d always felt like a fraud because I used my gift to see the future, discounting the value I added by having that full confidence in my clients that they lacked until they got there themselves. My unwavering belief in them was a solid foundation they could cling to when things were challenging.

Just like the belief my mother always had in me...

I force a wave of emotion away as I conclude, “But one thing I will say—a universal truth that took me a while to learn—the ultimate secret to success, the best path forward, is always the one that makes you happy now...not someday.”

The reporter nods and smiles. “Thank you. Great answer.”

They take their seat and the questions continue to fly in. I relax more and more now that the elephant in the room has been addressed and the crowd has predictably moved on.

I’m already yesterday’s news.

Moments later, the panel disperses and I climb down from the stage. Several reporters approach with their business cards and a young woman asks about a client meeting. Better than I expected this day to go and I have Warren to thank. He’s still standing at the back of the room and all I want is to go to him. But I’m at a loss of what to say. He defended me today, but what does it mean?

Can I get my hopes up that maybe he’s here because he still has feelings for me too?

I make my way through the crowd and meet Warren in the back of the room and an awkwardness simmers between us.

“That was quite a speech,” I say. “Not as good as the best man speech you didn’t get a chance to deliver, but not bad.”

“I decided to wing this one.” He pauses and looks at me with sincerity reflecting in those deep blue eyes. “You didn’t deserve the way that reporter was witch-hunting you.”

“Oh, I think I deserved it a little.”

“Maybe a little,” he says with a grin. He pauses, then... “And I wanted to tell you that Marcus impressed the scout. Looks like he’ll be getting that scholarship to UCLA in the fall.”

Oh, thank God. I sigh in genuine relief. “That’s wonderful.”

Warren nods and hesitates. “Thank you for convincing me to give him another shot.”

“You just said it yourself, sometimes people need a second chance,” I say gently.

Warren steps toward me. “Like us?”

Air traps in my lungs and my heart pounds. I don’t trust my voice to speak and all words are eluding me anyway.

“You know why I’ve always called you Hailstorm?” he asks in my silence.

I swallow the emotion welling in the back of my throat. “Because they’re loud, painful, and damaging?”

He stares into my eyes. “Because hail is caused by strong updrafts in a storm. You’ve always embodied that relentless, against the grain strength that sometimes results in a natural disaster.”

I cock my head to the side and raise an eyebrow. “That’s supposed to be flattering?”

“No, it’s supposed to be the truth. And so is this—all I know is that nothing feels better than when I’m with you.”

“We argue all the time...”

“Not all the time,” he says huskily as he moves even closer.

I swallow hard as I stare up at him. I want this with him, but I’ve been completely vulnerable and I’m not sure he can accept me—all of me. “I know what I told you seems hard to believe...”

The floor beneath my feet rumbles as a crumbling noise drowns out the motivational music in the event room. Items fall from exhibit booths and attendees hurry to seek security as an earthquake shakes the room.

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