Page 57 of Caught A Vibe

Despite my knees still feeling a little weak, I stand and wobble to the kitchen. I need some distance to put myself back together.

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry?” I ask.

I open the fridge to hunt for leftovers and peace of mind, but I get distracted by a funky smell and a large bowl of something that looks alive.

“What the hell is this thing in the fridge?” I call over my shoulder. “Should I call the CDC or the FBI?”

Dash strolls up behind me and grips my hips where I’m bent over to inspect the vegetable graveyard.

“It’s sourdough starter. It’s for an article.”

“It’s trying to escape. Uh-huuuuuh!” My sarcasm ends in a shriek as I am lifted over his shoulder, the fridge door swinging shut with a gust of cold air against my hypersensitive and now partially exposed bits. He carries me into our bedroom and drops me bouncing on our bed.

“You know what? I am still a little hungry,” he teases, prowling across the bed toward me.

Game. On.

Chapter15

Penny

When I finally I get the okay to go back into our office space with strict Covid protocols in place, I am militant about six feet between employees at all times, masks, handwashing, temperature checks, the whole nine yards. I will jump through a flaming hoop spraying hand sanitizer from a hose if it means I can salvage my business plan.

I can’t hug my friends, but I can see them. We can’t really work in the same room, because of the layout of the office space, but just knowing they are right next door is a gift. Every laugh or conversation feels precious, even if they’re a little muffled by the masks. Even that small glimpse of normal feels amazing after months of being cooped up.

I can’t afford to hire the launch staff I’d anticipated because we’ve had so many delays and setbacks. So Emmie, Zarah, Nic, Jen, Mike and I all pitch in and pack the remaining preorders ourselves. We print shipping labels and build an entire wall of empty boxes around the conference room. We even figure out how to arrange for contactless shipping pickup. Even Dash drops by to help fetch and carry.

At last, my dream is getting off the ground. Soon word of mouth will spread, and more and more women will be empowered to take control of their orgasms. Vibe la revolution!

A sharp buzzing interrupts my daydream of world clitoral domination, and I realize I’ve been sitting at my desk with a dopey smile on my face for at least twenty minutes. I answer my phone and try to get my head back in the game.

“Hey Nic, what’s up?”

“Don’t panic.”

I lean back in my chair with a heavy sigh, instantly deflated. How can two little words pop my happy bubble so effectively? “Oh God, what now?”

“I told you not to panic.”

“Has that line ever worked in the history of bad news? The fact you said it at all implies there is something I might panic about.” I can feel it licking at the back of my throat. Nic wouldn’t warn me if there was nothing to worry about.

“Well…” Nicola prevaricates.

“Spit it out,” I snap.

“So we’ve been following the MiO hashtag and mentions hoping for some reviews from the early influencers we managed to ship out a few weeks ago.”

Yes, I know that. This was the plan.

“And?”

“We’ve had a few great ones, really gushing about the product.”

“Oh my God, did they really say ‘gushing’ in the review?” I can’t hold back the chuckle. If this is the bad news, we’re fine. I can spin that in one TikTok video.

“Only one, with a wink and a nod. It was funny. But…we also got a few bad reviews.”

Nope, there’s the bad news. Still, we knew we weren’t going to please everyone. We just wanted to come close.

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