Page 41 of Sugarlips
Chloe was tweeting and instagramming like a madwoman, making sure anyone who cared would knew that we were parked smack dab in the center of town.
The only problem was, we were supposed to close for the day in thirty minutes and we’d only sold half of our inventory. It didn’t even cover the cost of what I’d baked for today.
Chloe paced the tiny space behind me, out of the way from any customer’s eyes. Not that we had any. I waved goodbye to sweet Mrs. Langley, who’d heard from my mom about this latest food truck venture and had walked into town, searching for the truck just to buy something and support my first day.
If I was being honest, that’s how I’d describe most of our customers on this first day… friends and family who came by to support us. A few people passing by bought the occasional ice cream sandwich. But mostly it was d-e-a-d …dead.
I opened the fridge. At least the ice cream sandwiches and mac and cheese balls would keep for another day, but the donuts and brownies were another story. I’d probably drop them off at the kids’ day camp on my way home.
“No, no, no,” Chloe said into the phone, her laugh a little too high-pitched and frenetic to sound genuine. “It’s nothing on our end. I would just hate for you to send out a crew for a story outside on a day like today. It’s pushing ninety degrees out here…” She paused, clearing her throat. “Uh-huh. I see. Okay, then, we’ll see you in a few minutes.”
I leaned against the countertop, watching as Chloe dropped her forehead to her phone. “Channel Five News will be here in a few minutes for our ‘grand opening.’” She threw air quotes around the words and tossed her phone gently on the counter. “What do we do? We have no customers outside. What sort of terrible marketing consultant am I if I couldn’t even attract enough customers for us to break even on our grand opening?”
I crossed over to her and placed my hands on her arms. Heat fractured its way through my skin, sending a lightning bolt of awareness jerking up my body. “Hey,” I said, gently. “You’re not a failure. This was only our first day.”
Her big blue eyes filled with moisture as she blinked up at me, but the tears quickly dissipated. Thank God. That’s all I needed… to be caught bawling with Chloe on our local news channel.
“They wouldn’t reschedule the interview?”
Chloe shook her head. “Nope. It’s now or never. I guess they’re booked for the next week at least.”
Chloe broke free of the hold I had on her shoulders, and that heat disappeared along with her soft skin and sweet scent. She crossed the small length of the truck and leaned on the counter, dropping her chin to her hands.
“Maybe we should cancel the interview,” I offered. “They say they can’t rebook right now, but maybe in a couple of weeks on a slow news day when we’ve found our groove—”
“Wait a minute. Doesn’t Nick’s Pizzeria have a happy hour that starts early on Wednesdays?”
“Um. I think so?”
Chloe was on her feet, pushing me toward the driver’s seat. “Get us there. Now. I’ll call and tell the station to meet us two blocks down!”
“What? Chloe, this is crazy. Nick serves pizza. He’s going to be pissed if we poach his customers—”
“I don’t care! Image means everything in these early stages! Step on it!”
I did what she said and drove us to the end of Main Street where Nick’s Pizzeria was. His outdoor patio was already jam packed for Wine Wednesday and there was a line of about ten people waiting for tables out front.
We quickly hopped out of the truck, and as I reopened the window, putting out our menu sign, I noticed Chloe was cutting up a brownie and a donut, putting them on little tasting plates with toothpicks. She hopped out of the truck and ran for the people standing around, passing out samples of our food to the people.
As the news truck rounded the corner of Main Street, and we saw the field reporter and cameraman climbing out, Chloe announced to the group, “Fifty percent off of any one item if you purchase… um, now.”
“What are you doing? Fifty percent off?” I whispered.
“We need it to look like we’re booming even though we’re not. At least this way, we look good on camera, and it’s better to sell at half price than to give away what we don’t sell for free.”
Well, she had a point there. She hopped forward, greeting the reporter with an outstretched hand. “Hi! So sorry for the last-minute change. I’m Chloe Dyker and this is my partner, Liam Evans.”
“Hi. I’m Kimberly Waze with Channel Five.” It didn’t escape my notice the way her eyes brushed down my body, lingering at my biceps. I might not be the largest Evans brother, but I wasn’t a skinny nothing, either. Then her gaze shifted over my shoulder, her brown eyes going wide as she tucked her deep chocolate hair behind her ear. “Wow, looks like you’ve got a nice little line going on right here. Ethan, grab some b-roll of the line before it goes down!”
As Kimberly and Ethan sprang into action, Chloe and I turned around and I did my best to keep my face neutral as pretty much every person who had been waiting for a table was now waiting in line for the food truck. Chloe lifted her brows to me, a silentI told you so.
“Um, I should probably go help them…” I said, hitching my thumb over my shoulder.
“Let’s have you both behind the truck serving,” Kim said. “Then once the line has gone down, we can do the interview out here while everyone is eating.”
I had to admit, Chloe’s plan worked. Twenty minutes later, we had a bit more money in the register, even with the discount, and lots of happy new customers excited to try more of our stuff. Several of the people sitting outside at Nick’s even came over to buy some dessert before going back to their tables. The interview portion was going well, though that was mostly thanks to Chloe. I was never very good at those sorts of things. Luckily, I just had to sit there and give short answers while she took the microphone.
“So, who came up with the idea for the Dump Truck?” Kim asked.
