Page 42 of The Fear of Falling
Fear and guilt and worry all mix in my stomach, leaving me queasy and wondering if I’ll be next to rush to the bathroom. But Benson takes advantage of my weakness and tugs me forward, hard enough that I fly past him and stumble into the lobby.
Phillip Rogers stops mid-sentence, looking from Lynda to me with his eyebrows high. He matches his picture, a solid man with a solid dark beard peppered with gray. He’s wearing a bird-patterned button-up shirt, dark-washed jeans, and Vans, whichisn’t what I would have expected from a businessman of his esteem, and his casual attire suddenly makes him feel much less intimidating.
“Miss Baldwin, I presume,” he says, and the British lilt of his smooth voice is almost soothing.
He is not at all what I expected.
Benson nudges me from behind, breaking me from my surprise.
“Yes!” I squeak, holding out my hand.This is my company. I’m the expert. I can do this.I’m not sure I believe my inner thoughts, but I do my best as I say, “It’s so nice to meet you. Unfortunately, Eric got tangled up in something, but I don’t want to waste any more of your time. I know you don’t have much to spare.” I gesture to the door to the balcony, where we keep a table and chairs for moments like these.
When we get outside and settle at the table, I realize Benson has followed us, so I reluctantly make the introduction. “Um, Mr. Rogers, this is Benson West. He’s…” Should I say he’s here to help us build our business, or would that interfere with Rogers’s interest? Eric would know the answer to that, but he’s too busy bleeding.
“I’m an old friend of Eric’s,” Benson says, grasping Rogers’s hand in a firm handshake. He sits next to me, far too close for my comfort because it’s already difficult enough to concentrate without his fresh scent filling my nose. “I’m in town for a few weeks to help maximize the marketing strategy of Rose & Quill in the coming years and ensure the company establishes themselves as a strong contender in such a competitive market.”
Rogers lifts a thick eyebrow. “An outsider?” He clearly doesn’t approve.
But Benson smiles and glances between me and Rogers. “A friend hoping to be useful,” he corrects. “My focus is on building scalable marketing frameworks that not only amplify brandvisibility but also translate directly into measurable growth, because the books R&Q are producing are already a cut above most and selling themselves.”
Where in the world did that come from? I gape at Benson, trying to understand how the carefree and flirty man I knew in Italy got replaced by a completely different version of him. He’s like Batman swooping in out of nowhere to save the day. Or Bruce Wayne? Batman if the vigilante part of him dressed like Bruce Wayne. Gah! His initials are even B.W.!Ridiculous.
“We were just discussing a new approach to marketing to set Rose & Quill apart from other publishers,” Benson continues, and he shifts his gaze to me. “Why don’t you tell Mr. Rogers what you were telling me?”
What?We weren’t talking at all! As my panic starts building again, I stare at Benson and silently beg him to say something else. Anything.
But he simply grabs my hand under the table and offers a brief smile that seems to say, “You’ve got this.” It’s the same look he gave me all the time in Italy when he was pushing me to break through my self-imposed inhibitions.
But trying mystery meat street food and convincing a big-time investor to give my little company a chance aren’t the same thing. I don’t know if I’ve got this, but I don’t have much of a choice. Benson said Rogers needs to see my passion for this company, which I have in spades, so that shouldn’t be too hard to show. I take a deep breath and squeeze Benson’s hand, as if that might give me some of his strength.
“As you probably know,” I begin, turning my focus back to Rogers, “Danielle Baldwin has taken the world by storm with her debut,Of Curses and Pomegranates, which pushed Rose & Quill into the public eye sooner than we expected, but we’re hoping to use her popularity to boost our other authors and build a strong brand around her success.”
Rogers tilts his head to the side, studying me with an inscrutable expression. “How so?”
That’s a good question…
“Collaborations,” I say, which is the first word that pops into my head. Luckily, I’ve had ideas around collaboration, though I’ve never been brave enough to suggest them to Eric. Not until we’re more established. But I need to share ideas now, so I start talking. “We’re looking into doing multi-author box sets and short story collections, as well as cross-promotions and group signings. We can use her social media following as well, by…” My mind goes blank, and I grimace.
“By pairing her with other R&Q authors in fun ways,” Benson says in a way that makes it sound like he knew exactly what I was going to say. “We’ll encourage them to make content together that resonates with their different audiences. Things like improvised poetry contests between the authors, with the readers and followers choosing the winner.”
“Yes!” I say, sitting up straighter. That’s brilliant! “Or having them write scenes on the spot where their characters meet each other in situations suggested by followers.”
Benson grins. “Maybe we could have authors host a quarterly book club and interview each other.”
“Knowing our authors, that could get hilarious.”
“Even better.”
“You’re right. We want our authors to be able to show their personalities and be authentic, rather than perform for social media.”
“The goal is to create genuine connections between the authors and readers,” Benson says.
“Make it personal,” I add. “No matter how big we grow, we want our readers to know that they are the reason we exist.”
“The best authors are the ones who connect with their readers, and that will be the driving force behind Rose & Quill. We cancapitalize on Dani’s success to connect all of our authors to more readers and wider audiences, at the same time boosting their confidence and establishing their personal brands.”
Rogers clears his throat, and the sound feels like a bucket of cold water dumping over my head. I almost forgot he was sitting across from us; I was caught up in Benson. But when I look at Rogers, he smiles warmly, eyes jumping between Benson and me. “Sounds like you have some interesting ideas,” he says, and I’m pretty sure he sees that as a good thing because his smile is so genuine. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, but I will certainly be in touch. I think we could do great things together, Miss Baldwin.”
He offers his hand, which I take with trembling fingers. Benson gives him a much more enthusiastic shake and offers to show him to the door, which is good because I don’t think I could stand if I tried.
