Page 2 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
I shake my head. “I think what you have done thus far is more than fine.”
That’s the understatement of the year. Hazel is the youngest female billionaire in the country. Her dating app has helped literally millions of people find love. Not me—but I’ve heard great things from others.
Even though I’m not dating, or have a personal use for the app, doesn’t mean I’m not jumping at the chance to work with Hazel and her company. Putting on my resume that I got to lead a campaign for a company owned by a female billionaire who always gives back to her community and isn’t a fucking sleazeball? Yes, please.
“So? How’s it going?” She leans in a little closer, almost as if we were two old friends and she was wanting to hear a secret. “Anyone catch your eye?”
I had a feeling this question was coming. I didn’t exactly ask her if I could come tonight, but when she told me in our meeting yesterday that they were having a soft launch/trial event tonight, I knew I wanted to come down to check it out. I’m a person willing to go the extra mile, so I thought coming here tonight would impress her and hopefully get a leg up on whoever my competition is.
Going off the vibes of this conversation, it’s working.
Which is why tonight I’m here as Katherine Smith, the name I go by at work and in all professional settings. I might be in a fun Christmas sweater and a leather skirt, but that’s as far as the fun goes. Underneath I’m wearing my sensible bra and panty set. I don’t have on much makeup, and my hair is pulled back into a low bun.
Now if I were here for fun? I’d be introducing myself as Kat. She’s the fun side of me. Her hair would be down, her lipstickwould be a bold red, and the underwear choices tonight would be the ones you only wear to make yourself feel sexy and comfort is thrown out of the window.
Yes, I know I’m the same person. That it’s just the difference between a nickname and a full government name. But to me it helps keep the lines drawn. And based on my history, that’s what I need in my life more than anything.
“Sorry, nothing yet,” I answer to Hazel’s question. And it’s true; there isn’t a man here for either of my personas. “But it’s nice to be able to meet people and put myself out there.”
Okay, that is a lie. Putting yourself out there isthe worst.
Hazel looks around before leaning in closer. What is she about to tell me that she wants to make sure no one hears. “I know why you’re here, Katherine.”
Oh. That.
“You do?”
She nods, but does it with a smile. “I appreciate you wanting to show initiative and go the extra mile. And believe me, it’s noted. However, have fun tonight. Let your hair down. Literally. Have fun, and who knows, maybe find the one?”
The one? Oh that’s rich. Somehow I keep my face straight during my response.
“I’ll do my best.”
She puts her hand over mine. “I’m living proof that you find your person when you’re least expecting it. Maybe it’s at a trivia night. Maybe it’s on the side of the road when he comes to tow your broken-down car. Or maybe Santa brings him for Christmas. But I always say to always be on the lookout. Because you’ll never know when it’s your time.”
I can see her point. The best things happen when you’re not looking. Though I’ve only ever experienced that in the professional world.
But the day whenithappened changed my life.
I used to work in corporate land. Long days. Longer weeks. Asshole, ladder-climbing douchebags as my bosses. Every day was a competition to see who could do more, who could pitch the best, who could bring in the most clients. Coworkers were fake friends since you knew they were your competition. And well…let’s just say I know more than most why we don’t mix business with pleasure.
The whole experience was exhausting, and I’m pretty sure for the first three years of my career, I averaged four hours of sleep a night. I had constant acne breakouts from stress. I lived off takeout, caffeine, and the sheer determination to be the best. I thought I was doing the right things, working with the right team members, learning from those above me.
Until I wasn’t.
It was a cancerous situation that I’ll never go back to. It’s why my life was changed the day my best friend, Logan Matthews, developed a little game called SpaceCraft. What started as a college project boomed into the biggest video game in the world, and seemingly out of nowhere. Before either of us knew it, SpaceCraft became more than a video game. It was merch. Toys. Skins. Variants. You name it, we had it. Soon, Logan was one of the youngest billionaires in history, and I was leaving my corporate job to take Logan and GameTech on as my sole client.
It was the best decision of my life. Not only am I living a less stressful life—mostly—I’m making more money than I ever dreamed. I’m working for my best friend. It’s perfect.
Especially now that I’m sleeping eight hours a night and my skin has never looked better.
But recently, I’ve been a little bored. Logan’s company is running smoothly, every launch is easier than the last, and he’s married to an amazing woman. Don’t get me wrong—he still pays me like I’m in the middle of crisis control, but I needed to do something. Something to keep my brain going.
So for the past five months I’ve been dipping my toe back into the world of corporate PR through freelance work—pitching to various clients, but doing it on my own. It’s been exhilarating. Developing presentations. Executing plans. It’s like I have this new energy for my work, and I know if Hazel were to bring me on, that energy would only intensify.
And knowing that I’m beating out other pitches from big companies with unlimited budgets who probably employ douchebags? Well, that’s just icing on the cake.
“Come on,” Hazel nudges me. “Take the hair down.”
