Page 26 of All Twerk, No Play

“Good afternoon, everyone. Paul's accounting firm is so busy that we’re stepping down as co-chairs. We’ll be replaced by …”

The door swung open to reveal Alex Clarke, the cocky asshole. He walked with so much swagger you would think he was dropping a bag of his enemies’ heads on the table, not queuing up a Powerpoint. “Good afternoon, everyone. I’ll be taking over this business incubator with my partner, Victoria Blackstone.”

Oh shit.

My stomach lurched as Victoria strutted in, radiating effortless authority. She didn’t need to bluster like Alex; she commanded more dignity than he could ever pull off.

As Alex loaded a slide presentation, Victoria’s gaze passed over me as just another face around the tables. I wiped a napkin over my mouth, hoping I hadn't dripped mayonnaise on my dusty shirt.

“I grew up right here in Saratoga Springs,” Alex said as the screen displayed a teen heartthrob in a Saratoga baseball jersey.

“I grew up in Manhattan,” she said over a picture of a younger, cheerful Victoria in front of a crimson awning. Of course she was a New Yorker: she radiated that detachment bordering on aloofness, the thicker skin from living on top of each other.

But she definitely wasn’t from the same part of New York as me. She probably lived in the buildings that I’d seen from a distance, separated by a few miles and several million dollars. I slumped lower in my chair.

“We met at Stanford Law ten years ago, where we ranked first and second in our class,” Alex said, prompting her next line. She cleared her throat and waited. He added dryly, “I was second.”

Her soft lips tilted into a smug smile. Damn right, she beat him out.

And I’d officially learned more about Victoria in two introductory slides than in hours spent dancing and building furniture. Then again, nobody else in this room knew how she kissed.

Except, ugh, that smug asshole in the suit. The one she was pining over.

The screen displayed them a decade younger in caps and gowns, his arm slung around her shoulders. A teenage Mallory held a glittery sign, his parents stood behind them.

A lanky blond white guy stood at Victoria’s side, with Alex’s height and Mallory’s eyes … but somehow he seemed familiar. I whispered to Kate, “Does Mal have another brother?”

“That’s, uh, Nick …” she whispered. She cleared her throat and murmured, “I forgot he had the beard that summer. Man, I had such a crush on him.”

“In addition to her JD, Victoria got her MBA,” Alex bragged on her behalf. “She’s the best in the business at financial projections, feasibility studies and marketing strategies.”

She flushed at his praise. The way she glowered at him in the club on Friday had been predatory, and their conversation on Saturday morning had been stilted, but now the look she sent him seemed affectionate, almost sisterly. As long as Grace wasn’t around and they were talking about business, I could see how well they worked together.

Their Powerpoint continued, outlining their expectations for the incubator, including regular observations and monthly meetings with each member. As the slides covered financial reviews and growth strategies, I tuned out, feeling completely out of my league.

I already barely fit in here—my application wouldn’t have been accepted without Kate pushing it through—because I didn’t have a real business. Kate ran an art gallery for the bougie tourists, Mallory owned a thriving yoga studio with half a dozen teachers on payroll. Around the table sat a dentist, construction foreman, furniture store owner, hotel manager, tattoo artist, mechanic, wedding photographer, boat rental company … everyone had a real business, with a brick-and-mortar location. They hired staff and paid insurance and all sorts of grown-up shit.

But me? People paid me to tell them to squat while I played loud music and ran my mouth. Pretty sure everyone would realize soon that I had no idea what I was doing. There was only so long I could fool them into thinking that I was interesting or important.

Now Victoria stood at the front of the room, looking polished and professional in a dress that probably cost more than I had in my savings account, rambling about legal compliance, intellectual property, operations systems and revenue diversification.

I was in over my head.

If Kate had grabbed seats closer to the door, I would have let myself out … but climbing over people would draw Victoria’s attention, and the last thing I wanted was to leave now then have to face her in our building.

Victoria said to the group, “This will be a bigger commitment than you signed up for. If you choose to stay, we will push you hard to grow and expect you to rise to the challenge.” I shifted in my seat from all her talk about pushing hard and growing and rising.

“We’ll start with one-hour observations over the next month. You don’t have to stay,” Alex leveled a gaze around the room, and I sighed in relief at the option to bow out gracefully. “If you’re not willing to do the work, don’t waste our time.”

“If you want to grow your small businesses into empires,” Victoria’s silver eyes finally met mine, like she’d been waiting for the right moment. Her intense stare was rife with challenge. “Let’s get started.”

"Go Your Own Way," Fleetwood Mac

Victoria

“Thisissoexciting,”Grace said, bouncing on her soles while I unlocked the ground floor unit. “We’ve wanted to expand, but haven’t had time to look for new studio space. Thank you for doing this for us.”

I bit back the response that I wasn’t doing this for her. I’d invited Mallory to my new building to pitch her studio expansion. Instead of coming alone as I hoped, she brought along Grace as the studio manager.

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