Page 98 of The Bad Girl List

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you at dinner the other night. I haven’t told my family yet.”

“From the way you’re talking, is it safe to say leaving wasn’t your idea?” Tim asks.

I decide to lay it all out. What have I got to lose? “When the Moretti design brief came in, I was assigned to the team. Every design I did was shot down by Sophia. She never likes anything that’s unconventional. In the eleventh hour, I pulled her approved designs and swapped them out for the ones you saw.”

“And she fired you for it?”

I nod. “When I landed my job at Presidio right out of Berkeley, my family was really, really proud. My mom announced it to everyone on the monthly family Zoom call. My aunt researched design firms all over California to help me find a good company. Everyone was worried when I said I wanted to major in art, but they came together and helped me make sure I could earn a living.”

“Sounds like your family looks out for you.”

“Yeah.” I smile. “They do. I’ll tell them after our trip, but I didn’t want to spoil our vacation. They probably would have rearranged the schedule to help me comb Craigslist and increase my connections on LinkedIn.”

“I can appreciate your predicament,” Tim says. “Even at my age, I worry about disappointing my father.”

“Gramps?”

“Yes. He plays a mean game of cards, and back in the day, he was a shrewd businessman. Taught me everything I know. One of the things he taught me was to think outside the box. That’s what I liked about your designs. They were the only ones that were truly unique.”

“That’s why I wanted you to see them!” I turn in my seat to face him. “I sat in on your intake interview. When you were talking, I kept thinking you weren’t a guy who just wanted to see a rehash of what’s been done before. That’s why I went bold with the colors.”

“You have good instincts. I like that. That’s why I want to hire you as an independent consultant to redesign the labels for our entire portfolio. You would be working with my wife on the project. Once we finish the labels, the new look will need to roll out to all of our marketing collateral. I have enough work to keep you busy for at least six months.”

I sit there, stunned speechless. This is a huge opportunity, and Tim knows it. Is he really serious?

“What about Presidio?” I ask.

Tim purses his lips. “They failed to deliver on my vision. And they fired the only employee who seemed to understand the future direction of our winery. I spoke directly to the CEO. I won’t be receiving an invoice from them. I will pay you what I would have paid them.”

A rush of excitement goes through me. I’ve secretly always dreamed of striking out on my own, of running my own design business. But the prospect of starting from scratch with no clients and no money always felt too big, too scary.

I don’t know exactly what Presidio charges clients, but I know it’s enough to start my business. The kind of money Tim is talking about will set me up for the next six months. And once I have the work for his winery under my belt, I’ll be able to approach other wineries about work. Tim might even recommend me to other people he knows in the business.

“This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Tim,” I say. “I’m flattered. But … what about Trevor?”

“My son spends all his days with his dog in the vineyards. We might need to bring him in for feedback, but the work won’t put you in one another’s path very often. Can you live with that?”

“I don’t have any problem with Trevor,” I say quickly. “He’s a great guy.”

Tim Moretti looks at me. I squirm, realizing I may have said too much.

“He told me about Elle,” I say.

“Did he?” Tim’s eyebrows climb. “He usually doesn’t talk about her.”

“He’s still in love with her,” I say. “That’s why we stopped seeing each other.”

“I can tell you’re an honest person,” Tim says. “I like that about you. But if your short history with my son doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me. Will you take the job?”

“Yes.” I’m pretty sure my smile might stretch all the way to New York. “Yes, I would love to work for you.”

“Fantastic.” Tim holds out his hand, and we shake. “I’m old school, Dom. I make deals with handshakes and I keep my promises. I’ll have my wife outline the details in writing and send them to you, along with the payment figures. Now how about some lunch? I highly recommend their carnitas super burrito. That’s what I’m getting. It’s Trevor’s favorite.”

“I’ll have one of those, too, please.”

“Great. I’ll order and be right back.”

As soon as he heads to the taco truck, I let out a squeal of delight and do a happy dance right there in the Tesla passenger seat. Then I grab my phone and text Annika.

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