***
Under the table, Rory squeezed my hand, our frostiness momentarily forgotten. When it came to our personal lives, apparently all bets were off. But in here we were a united front.
‘I think we really need to consider it.’ Ella clicked onto the next slide, showing us the information about our competitor – their monthly downloads, their public image – that everyone in the room already knew by heart. First rule of launching a brand in a competitive market: know who you’re up against. Second rule: don’t jump into bed with them. Which was exactly why Rory and I were avoiding a partnership with Link like the plague.
‘What about the interest we had from Influence magazine?’
Rory might have been desperate, but he was also correct. After their condemning article about our secret love affair, they’d been in touch to enquire about further collaborations. ‘And didn’t we also get something from that sex-toy company?’ He stood firm.
‘The sex-toy brand didn’t want to invest, just to cross-promote.’ Andrew was scribbling in his A4 refill pad as we listened to Ella. ‘Same with Influence. People just aren’t investing like they used to. Most people want to wait a bit, see how the app does. We have nothing in the same realm as the offer from Link. Right, Andrew?’
Our accountant nodded. ‘It would be enough to tide us over for at least six months, and by then, we’d be out of the woods.’
I didn’t think I’d ever heard Andrew speak so many words at once. He adjusted his tie, embarrassed.
‘What will it do to our reputation if we accept investment from the main reason we created this app in the first place?’ Rory wasn’t backing down.
Harriet jumped in. ‘It won’t be ideal, but I can explain it away. This happens in tons of markets – if anything, it’s a sign that they believe you’re on the same playing field. We might hate them, but people respect them.’
Under the table, Rory gripped my hand tighter before taking his clammy palm and rubbing it on his legs. I didn’t have to ask him to know what he was thinking. A month ago, when they’d first pitched to us, I’d felt the same thing. Now, I wondered if it wasn’t such a bad idea. Link were the leaders in our market, and they knew what they were doing. Like Harriet said, if Link wanted a piece of us, then we were a piece worth having. And at the end of the day, we were all doing the same thing. Milking human connection.
‘Penny? What do you think?’ Ella was staring at me over the table, her eyes slightly narrowed like she was trying and failing to read me. I thought of the photos on her desk, and Dexter’s Lego plant. This was a business, and we had to protect it. Protect their jobs, protect ours. Maybe sometimes you had to sell your soul to the devil in order to survive.
‘Well …’
Rory’s foot knocked against mine three times. It was our secret signal, devised a few months into our friendship. Three touches meant a code red, and neither of us played it except for in extenuating circumstances.
I might have been about to drop a bombshell, but I pulled back. ‘I think we should give these opportunities for cross-promotion a chance. See if they stir up any further interest.’
It went down like a lead balloon.
‘Are you sure?’ Ella looked disappointed in me. I was pretty sure I was disappointed in me.
I swallowed. ‘I think if we’re playing the long game, this is what’s best for the company.’
Harriet nodded, and I could feel Rory finally relax even if my own body remained rigid with anxiety. Did I think it was what was best for the company? I wasn’t sure.
I picked up my laptop. ‘Are we done?’
When Ella nodded, I took it as permission to leave, heading straight to the toilet to splash some cold water on my face. Things were heating up when it came to pressure from the rest of the team. And I understood. It was a tough time to launch a business, and sometimes you had to make tough decisions. I was just undecided on what those decisions were.
24
‘Okay, so you chop, while I fry these off.’ Maeve pointed me in the direction of the massive heirloom tomatoes she’d picked up at our local deli this morning. She’d started going on ‘hot girl walks’, arriving back at the flat with paper bags full of new finds. I didn’t hate it, except when I was expected to cook with the goods. The word ‘cook’ being used loosely.
I eyed the knife. ‘And if I accidentally chop my finger off …’
‘Then we’re screwed, at least until Joseph arrives. I only know how to fix minds. But you’re not going to do that, because you’re going to look where you’re going. Penny!’ – she gestured wildly in the direction of the knife I was wielding – ‘Don’t look at me, look at your heirlooms.’
I pouted and got chopping, trying my best to achieve the rustic Italian look that we were apparently going for. The dreaded evening had finally come around: our Come Dine With Me attempt. It was really only a formality, since Joe and Isla had smashed it out of the park. Even though I was extremely suspicious of my best friend, I was still rather thankful to be her sous chef instead of working alone. A happy side effect of Adrian’s departure. I was just glad to not have to put my friends through the ‘help yourself’ fajitas I’d been planning. The Old El Paso kit could remain at the back of the cupboard.
‘Rory told me about the meeting this week, about Link?’ Maeve said it casually, but I whipped my head around. We may have been bonding over our three-course spectacular, but I had not forgotten about her almost-definite secret affair with the man in question.
‘Yeah.’ I didn’t elaborate, leaving her open to putting her foot in it.
She tipped a mountain of onions into her frying pan, adding some garlic. ‘I know how both of you feel about Link. That’s a rough call to make, I’m sorry. Rory was pretty frustrated when I spoke to him.’
I prickled, even though it was perfectly normal for news to reach her through him. I wondered when he’d told her about it. Had it been in person, whilst I was mere metres away in my bedroom? Or had it been whispered down the phone, late at night? I’d been paying attention to Maeve’s movements after I went to bed, but I hadn’t heard anyone sneak in, and she’d been in every night this week, playing Candy Crush on her phone and watching Schitt’s Creek. She’d been more available than ever before. I clearly wouldn’t make a great detective, because she’d evaded my every attempt to fish for details.
I sighed, taking out my frustration on the pile of diced tomatoes in front of me, practically chopping them into pulp. ‘It wasn’t great. He’s really stressed about it.’
See? I know him too.
‘And you’re not?’ Maeve was staring at me sceptically.
‘Of course I am.’
In reality, I wasn’t particularly stressed about Link. But I was stressed about everything else, and what we were going to do if we didn’t take their offer. It seemed to be the week for telling white lies in this flat. ‘But it could have been so much worse. Besides, this is basically an endorsement.’
That’s how I’d been choosing to see it, anyway. In a worst-case scenario, giving some of our company to Link wasn’t the end of the world. It was barely one chunk in a share bar of Dairy Milk. And the fact that the offer was even on the table showed that Link saw us as a bar of Caramel, not just a bar of Fruit & Nut. I said as much to Maeve.
‘I guess I see your point, even if I do think Fruit & Nut reigns supreme. You know Rory – he’s life or death when it comes to Level.’ She gave me a pointed look. One that said ‘I thought you were too’. When I didn’t react, she went back to her prep. ‘Your analogy is making me wish we’d chosen chocolate torte over tiramisu.’ We both stared at the pile of sponge fingers that were lying on the worktop. Changing the menu last minute would tip me over the edge.
‘When you’re done chopping,’ she said, eyeing my pile of decimated tomatoes, ‘can you add them to a glass bowl, drizzle with olive oil, and then get soaking those sponges with espresso from the machine?’
I was consistently impressed by people who could cook. I looked at a recipe, and all I saw was gibberish. In the end we’d gone for an Italian theme (Maeve had taken one look at my fajita kit and sighed), after Rory’s seaside and Joe and Isla’s Mexican. It was basic, but the food would be good, and that might just be enough to carry us through. Maeve was making some sort of elaborate chorizo pasta dish as well as most components of the dessert; I was on bruschetta duty, and coffee dunking. It was a well-matched set of tasks. We worked in silence for a while, only stopping to either ask questions (me) or bark orders (Maeve).
‘So …’ Maeve finally broke the silence, not looking up as she poured a dash of cream into her sauce. ‘You saw Daniel. Rory told me.’
