Page 18 of Whiskey Darling
Chapter Six
Allie
“Before tacklingthe International Whiskey Competition, we have a special opportunity to showcase our products.”
Flynn’s gaze settles on me as he speaks. Team members thumb through their folders, highlighting important details on the report I submitted just a week ago.
“Caramel Cove Craft Distillery Exposition is in three weeks. We’ll implement the targeting of female consumers there. This, of course, is spearheaded by Miss Darling.” With deceptive disinterest, Flynn flips through my report while taking a seat at the head of the table. “Miss Darling, explain your intended attack.”
Sawyer gives me an encouraging smile when I stand, smoothing the front of my houndstooth mini dress. I ignore Flynn’s ever-present glower, just as I ignore his recent persistence in calling me “Miss Darling”.
I suppose he’s making the point he really is my employer.
“Our focus is enticing more women to enjoy Devil’s Gold Whiskey, as well as the other lines we’re introducing over the next two years.” Flynn’s scrutiny makes me nervous as I begin the PowerPoint presentation. “We’ll start with customary free samples. Marketing research proves this is the fastest way to get people interested in a product.”
“We already do that,” Michael remarks with a smirk.
Flynn shoots him a quelling glare.
“True,” I agree with Michael, although his disdain can’t be missed. The others probably imagine his animosity comes from the fact I’m the one giving this presentation while he must watch.
Ignoring his snide smile, I continue. “Snagging our target audience requires bigger incentives. A simple, yet proven strategy. Top-notch giveaways. The first is a chance at winning a weekend getaway for two at La Boehme Resort. This will get people mingling at our exhibit. Samples of Devil’s Gold will be served with gourmet bon-bons, creating a unique experience I’m calling Sweet and Fire. Because we’re interested in pushing the Devil’s Mistress line, too, getting people excited about a whiskey finished in cabernet wine barrels, I’ll showcase an introductory course on whiskey tasting. Afterward, we’ll raffle off a few bottles.”
“We’re pushing distillery tours, too,” Sawyer says. “This means posting updates on Instagram. But even with the followers Allie brought with her, we could be doing better.”
“If everyone can share a post or two, it helps.” I nod. “I’ve created special invitations so we’ll know which visitors to the distillery came from the exposition. Of course, at International, we’re limited before the competition, but afterward, we’ll promote our lines in the same manner.”
The next group of slides clicks through on the conference room screen, and I freeze.
Where are the invitations I designed?
“Is it a whiskey tasting or a bachelorette party?” Michael fist-bumps a guy from sales. They chuckle over the not-so-clever remark.
The series of photographs are of Jade and me on Cancun’s sandy beaches. In bikinis. Skimpy sundresses. In bars. Drinking. Surrounded by guys.
There’s one of us doing belly shots. Oh, God. I thought I erased that one a long time ago. One of me dancing on a bar. Us together, with our arms around each other, making silly faces for the camera as girlfriends will do.
And there I am rising out of the ocean, the sun low on the horizon behind me, my body on fire in a golden glow. With my hands in my hair, I’m pulling it away from my face, laughing at Jade for taking photos like I’m a supermodel or something.
“Miss Darling?”
Like whiplash, Flynn’s voice snakes through the hushed conference room, biting me with the sharp sting of disapproval. Flinching, I tear my eyes away from the screen on the wall, staring at my folders instead.
“Obviously, those are not part of the presentation,” I offer weakly.
I’m pissed. Embarrassed. Confused.How did these photos end up in the middle of the slideshow? How did I make such a colossal mistake? Was I not paying close enough attention?
Or is my attraction for Flynn affecting my work?
Tears scorch my eyes as the photos flash slowly past until the presentation ends. There must be twenty-five images from that trip embedded in this file.
The invitations, the marketing plan I developed for the new whiskey line. They are all missing.
“I believe the Devil’s Mistress line is going to be a winner, but I have an idea that might surpass it.” My tone is shaky and unsure.Damn it!“We can’t roll it out for another two years, though. It will take some development but once Devil’s Mistress takes off, it could be viable.”
My fists clench against waves of crushing mortification.This is just a blip.Insignificant. Something I’ll laugh about if I loosen up a little. Maybe triple check my work next time. Put that on my list.
“What might those ideas be, Miss Darling?” The irritation evident in Flynn’s question swings my gaze around. He’s glaring at Michael, but is he pissed because of the man’s rather sexist remarks (doubtful) or the fact I royally screwed up this presentation (more likely)?
