Page 16 of Summertime Friends

I rub my hands over my brow, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“No, that’s not right,” I say through gritted teeth.

Everything with our Chicago expansion has been great, perfect even. Callum and I spent the last year building out our office, hiring, and laying the groundwork here. In addition to buying, redoing, and opening a hotel. As expected, we’ve encountered a few road bumps, including the difference between British and American work culture, but we’ve been flexible and pivoted as needed.

“Mr. Hayes, we are only following the agreed upon marketing plan,” a woman in her mid forties tells me.

We hired a local agency to run marketing for our hotel here in Chicago. With rounding out our first year in the States, we weren’t ready to bring in a marketing department in-house or lean on ours in the London office. Our account manager, Savannah, has been out on maternity leave for the past month and a half, leaving us with this woman who has been anything but delightful to work with.

“It’s bloody rubbish.” My accent is thick with irritation. She watches my mouth, trying to read my lips, I assume.

“What he’s trying to say is that the campaign doesn’t fit the demographic we are going after,” Ben Campbell, our Director of Operations, tells her.

“And what demographic is that?”

“Young, millennials, new adults. Think twenties to mid thirties. The type of people who travel and want their stay to be part of their Instagrammable moments.”

“This?” I hold up the folder of images sitting on my desk. “Is not that. This looks like something our parents would stay at.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she asks.

“No.” I take a deep inhale because she is right. It’s not bad, but it’s not our intended customer. “It’s not what we want.”

“I think we may need to read into ending our contract.” Ben nods at her, taking the blow of severing this relationship.

Her demeanor is somber and reflects disappointment. The work Savannah oversaw was pristine. Always on time and always exactly what we envisioned. I account for part of our instant success from the work Savannah has put in.

“Savannah will be disappointed to hear about this,” she tells me pointedly.

“I’ll speak with her directly. Maybe, if she’s lucky, we will poach her to come work for us when she returns from leave. That would solve the problem of having to work with you.”

I try to return the folder to her, but she swipes it away. “Keep it. Make sure to show it to whoever you hire next as an example of what not to do.”

She turns on the balls of her feet and storms out of my office.

“Have a great day!” Ben calls after her. Always quite nice, that one.

I slump into my chair. Resting my elbows on the glass desk and bringing my hands to my face.

“That was unfortunate,” I huff.

“Care to explain your rash anger and decision-making there?” Ben takes a seat in the chair on the opposite side of my desk.

“No.”

“Callum won’t be happy about this,” Ben tacks on.

“And? His name isn’t the company.”

He rests his hands in his lap. “Alright, Liam. What’s up?” he asks.

Emerson is what’s wrong. I can’t get her out of my mind, and the more I think about her, the angrier I get at her—and myself. I misled myself for a year after not seeing her that first month. I thought I was in the clear, that there were enough people in Chicago that I would never run into her, but seeing her has me completely undone.

“I have a lot on my plate and mind right now,” I reply to Ben.

“Anything I can do to help? Or do you want to talk about it?”

“You do not need to be bored with my personal life. But I do have back-to-back out-of-office meetings this afternoon. Can you handle finding a new marketing agency? Compile a list of three to four options and email them to Callum and me by the end of the day. We don’t have time to waste with the hotel opening in September.”

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