Chapter Sixteen
S O P H I A
“I can’t believe we get to sit in on a meeting with Trey Daily. This is so cool,” Jake gushed as he rushed around, gathering his notepad, pen, phone, and whatever else he deemed necessary for a meeting he wouldn’t even be allowed to speak in.
“Yeah, for sure,” I replied, decidedly less enthused.
It wasn’t that this wouldn’t be a neat opportunity, but the attitudes of everyone in this office could sour a wet dream. I wondered if everyone in corporate marketing was as bloodsuckingly brutal as Carole and Jeff. I really hoped not.
Maybe I could open my own small firm and make a career out of helping the little guy. Like Drew and Brody. Making them successful felt much more satisfying than a guy who was already a millionaire, but maybe that was because I had a personal interest in them.
Or maybe I just hated this goddamn job.
I followed Jake to the boardroom, grabbing a seat along the wall where we’d been relegated to for these meetings. At least they’d given us chairs.
Carole and Jeff were whispering to one another, but it was obviously acrimonious. Their lips practically spit the words out as if they were venom that would kill the other.
A few minutes later, Tom Prescott, the chief marketing officer, led Trey Daily and two other men into the boardroom. I’d yet to catch a glimpse of Prescott before this moment. He likely only left his ivory tower for million-dollar clients.
Trey was even larger in person than he looked on the field. Not that I watched a lot of football, but I’d looked up some clips when I heard he’d be coming in. He was a beast on the field, but next to other behemoths, his size appeared almost small. But being at least six feet tall with biceps that looked like they’d been sculpted in stone, Trey Daily was anything but average.
His flawless dark skin contrasted starkly against the baby-blue polo he’d somehow stretched over himself. He smiled widely when Mr. Prescott introduced him to the team, and the way his perfect teeth lit up his face made him look charismatic and approachable.
This was a man who’d be easy to market. There wasn’t a man or woman alive who wouldn’t be drawn in by the prospect of getting to spend even a brief moment in his presence.
Trey introduced the two men with him as his assistant and the general manager of the bar.
“It’s a pleasure to meet everyone,” Trey tacked on once all the introductions were done.
Well, the introductions that mattered. Jake and I had been ignored, but that was to be expected, and not only because these people were mostly self-absorbed twits but because interns were expected to blend in unless invited to stand out.
“Mr. Daily—” Jeff began.
“Trey, please,” Trey interrupted.
Jeff smiled kindly. The man was really a top-notch ass-kisser. “Trey. We’ve all looked over your business plans and are excited to help you put this project on the map. Your vision for your sports bar is unique, and we’re all thrilled to be part of your team.”
“My agent said you guys were the best, so…” He let a shrug finish the sentence for him.
I thought his traps were going to rip through his shirt.
“Let me run you through what we’ve come up with so far,” said Jeff. “And then you can let us know what you like and what you don’t.”
“We like your plan to open the bar so it coincides with the beginning of football season,” Carole said, “but will you have enough time to be part of the launch?”
This turned into a more contentious debate than her words implied. Some people thought it was smart for a sports bar owned by a football player to open at the start of the season, but others worried that all our effort would be for nothing if Trey wasn’t available to see the plans through.
“I’m putting all my spare energy into it now so when the season begins, I can shift gears. I’ve built a solid team at the bar. I trust them to run things and keep me informed of what they need from me. So other than coming in and giving out some high fives and photo ops, I don’t plan to be involved much with the daily operations. But I still want to make sure it’s my bar. I’ll hand over control of running it, but it still needs to look and feel like mine.”
Carole nodded. “Good to hear.” She sneaked a look at Jeff, who gave her a hard look before turning to Trey.
“We did want to ask, how attached are you to the name?”
“The name?” Trey looked surprised by the question.
Jeff cleared his throat. “Yes, as we were discussing how best to grow your brand, the issue we kept hitting is that the name is a bit…informal. It feels more like a one-time event than what we hope is a long-term business.”
Yikes.
I hadn’t overheard that they were going to suggest a name change—something that likely wasn’t going to go over well with the owner of a bar that was slated to open in under four months. Jeff must’ve either drawn the short straw when it came to bringing it up, or Carole had set him up to broach the issue.
With the look he’d given her, I guessed it was the latter.
“But we want Trey’s Tailgate to be informal. We’re attracting sports’ fans, not uptight executives.” Trey’s words were a total burn on everyone in the room, and if I hadn’t thought I’d be let go immediately, I would’ve applauded.
Jeff cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Yes, we understand that. But a tailgate conjures something in the mind that may not be appropriate for what you’re planning. Sure, it’s a sports bar, but it’s a pretty upscale one. You’ve managed to snag one of the best chefs in the city to come on board. We don’t want rowdy twenty-somethings thinking they can go there to get wasted and start trouble. That’s clearly not what you’re about.”
Trey looked begrudgingly thoughtful. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, his tone frosty but curious.
“What about The End Zone?” Carole suggested, excitement practically dripping from her tongue.
Trey scrunched up his face. “Too cliché.”
And Trey’s Tailgate wasn’t?
Not that I was rooting for Carole’s suggestion either because Trey was right—it was totally cliché. It was just odd he’d take issue with a football-themed name when that’s what he’d originally come up with himself.
“Okay, that’s fine. We have others,” Jeff quickly threw in. “What about The Gridiron?”
Trey didn’t like that one either, nor did he like the next however many the marketing team threw out.
“Maybe the fact we can’t come up with a better name proves the original one was best,” Trey’s assistant suggested.
Everyone at the table looked frustrated, and I watched Trey’s gaze sweep across everyone at the table. Then it settled on Jake and me.
“What do you guys think?” Trey asked.
I straightened up quickly and heard Jake rustle beside me.
“Um, what do we think?” I repeated like a moron, because of course I would.
“Yeah. What do you think about the name?”
“Oh, uh…” I frantically skimmed through my notes. I’d actually scribbled a few things down, but the shock of being asked for my opinion had scrambled my brain. I’d just located the suggestions I’d written in the margins when Jake spoke beside me.
“What about the Yard?”
I froze. Like a fucking Anna frozen-heart popsicle in Arendelle, my entire body locked except my neck, which slowly turned my head toward Jake, and my jaw dropped open like a medieval drawbridge.
Had this asshole really just…
“The Yard,” Trey said, sounding like he was trying to see if he liked how it sounded. “I like it.”
Of fucking course you do.
“I do too,” Tom Prescott said. “Well done, uh…”
“Jake, sir,” Jake the Snake replied, sounding smug as hell.
“Jake,” Tom repeated, probably committing the name of the demon beside me to memory. “Very good work. Where have you been hiding him?” Tom asked Carole and Je
ff, who both smiled like they had anything to do with Jake coming up with—read: stealing—a good name for a bar.
They discussed a few more things like soft openings and media launches as my mind struggled to catch up with what had just happened. Next thing I knew, Tom was leading Trey out of the office, and it was just the marketing team left.
Everyone was gathering their things and smiling widely at a job well done. Jake had moved closer to Jeff and Carole, and they were saying something to him animatedly, no doubt congratulating him for his quick thinking.
This was bonkers. There was no way I could let this happen.
“Uh, excuse me, Jeff,” I said as I rushed toward him. “I think there’s already a bar in the city with that name.”
“Where?” Jeff asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Lambert Street.”
“Okay, not too close to Mr. Daily’s bar. How long has it been open?”
“Well, um, it…it’s not exactly open yet, but I think the grand opening is pretty soon.”
Jeff scoffed. “It hasn’t even opened?” He waved it off. “Don’t worry about that. We can sink that ship before it even sets sail.” Jeff turned to his assistant. “Bridget, when you get back to your desk, put in a call to Bill Rush at the Bureau of Licensing.”
“Wh-What are you going to d-do?” The stuttering was a bad sign. I was on the cusp of a full breakdown.
“Get their liquor license revoked,” Jeff replied simply, as if the answer was obvious.
Shit balls on a shit sandwich!
“Wait, did you say the Yard?” I asked Jake. “You know what, I think I misheard—the bar I’m talking about is called The Yarn. Real big among…knitters. The Yard makes much more sense for a football player. ’Cause, you know…yard lines…and stuff. Um. Go team!”
Everyone was looking at me like I was the biggest dumbass they’d ever encountered, and the sad thing was—they weren’t wrong.
“Okay, then,” Jeff said, picking up his things. “I guess you can cancel that call, Bridget.”
Bridget nodded, and everyone began to file out of the room.
Before he could slip out, I grabbed Jake’s arm and whirled him around. I looked over his shoulder to make sure everyone had left before getting in his face.
“What the hell was that?”
“Uh, I was offering a name?”
“My name! You gave them my name. Well, not my name, but the name I came up with for my boyfriend’s bar. Why would you do that?”
“Why would you use company time to work on something for your boyfriend?”
I reared back a bit, like a snake about to strike.
“Don’t come at me with that bullshit. You stole from me. Not only did you take a name that was meant for another place, but you took credit for something that was mine.”
He released a breath, and it looked like the fight went out with it. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I just… The name popped into my head, and before I’d even thought about it, it was out of my mouth.”
“Well, you have to take it back.”
“Take it back? How the hell would I do that?”
“I don’t know… Tell them it’s the name of an established bar downtown or that you saw another football player with a bar of the same name or…something. Anything.”
“No. Sorry. I can’t do that.”
“You can and you will. Or I’ll tell Jeff that you stole that idea from me.”
“First of all, Jeff won’t care about that. Second, you do that, and I’ll tell him you’re using company time to do pro bono work for nonclients.”
Was this jackass blackmailing me? He must’ve seen that I was close to murder, because he put his hands out in front of himself.
“Sophia, it’s too late anyway. Even if you go in there and tell him the whole thing, it won’t matter. He’ll bury your boyfriend’s bar in red tape so that it never even gets to open. I’m sorry, but the damage is done. You’ll just have to come up with a new name.”
I felt a prickling behind my eyes, but I’d be damned if I cried in front of him.
“Fuck you, Jake.” I shouldered past him and hurried to the bathroom, where I locked myself in a stall.
My breathing was erratic as I tried to think about what I was going to do. Drew had already ordered all the promotional materials with The Yard on it. His grand opening was in less than two weeks, and he’d already blown through his budget.
What the hell was I going to do?
If Drew tried to open with that name and Jeff caught wind of it, there was no doubt in my mind what Jeff would do. But there was no way Drew had the time or money to change something as significant as a name this close to launch.
I stood in the bathroom of a place I hated, tears streaking down my face, and contemplated just how thoroughly I’d ruined my boyfriend’s life.
Chapter Seventeen
S O P H I A
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I murmured as I hurried out of Margot Nathan as soon as I was able.
“Hi, this is Taylor. I can’t answer my phone right now, but please don’t leave a voicemail. I won’t listen to it. Thanks.”
“Shit,” I said loudly enough to garner me a nasty look from an older lady walking past me. “Sorry,” I muttered.
Unable to resist, I dialed Taylor’s number a second time. Voicemail again, but I wasn’t to be deterred. I immediately pressed her name.
It rang five excruciating times before it finally connected.
“Jesus, where’s the fire?”
“In the dumpster that is my life,” I replied, my voice thick as I tried to keep the tears at bay.
“What’s wrong? Where are you?” Taylor’s voice was instantly alarmed, and it made a warmth spread through me.
I was able to choke back the tears a little as I reminded myself that, no matter what happened, I had Taylor in my corner sounding like she was ready to rip apart the city to get to me.
“I’m leaving work. Today… God, there aren’t words for today. I’m in deep shit.”
“Like, you’re going to jail deep shit, or you’re going to be a mommy deep shit?”
I thought for a second. “I guess neither.”
“Then how bad can it really be?”
I took a deep breath. “I sank my boyfriend’s dreams before they even got to enjoy the open sea.”
“Wow, so it’s bad metaphor kind of deep shit.”
I snorted out a laugh. “It’s not funny. Don’t make me laugh when I’m sad.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, though I could hear the smile in her voice. She was probably very pleased with herself that she’d broken through my dramatics. Little did she know I wasn’t close to done whining. “So what’s going on?”
“It’s too much to get into over the phone.”
“Okay, well, hurry home, and I’ll make us some drinks to have by the pool.”
“No!” I yelled, my panic making me feel a bit crazed. “Drew might see us,” I added, considerably quieter this time, as if I thought saying his name would enable him to hear me.
“Hmm, so this is an avoid-Drew problem?”
“Well, no. Yes. Kind of. It’s an avoid-everything-for-now problem.”
“Okay,” she replied, dragging out the opening vowel. “Wanna meet at that weird bar we walked past the other night? The one with the grass growing all over it?”
The thought of the place made me smile. We’d taken selfies in front of it because it was so bizarre looking.
“Yeah, that works.”
“Okay, see you soon.”
“See ya.” I disconnected the call and stuffed my phone into the front pocket of my pants.
The bar Taylor had suggested was about two blocks from our apartment. We’d stumbled across it when we’d gone for a walk, and I was oddly excited to go into the place. As soon as it came into my line of sight, I let my eyes rove over it.
It had a rustic feel, with wood-paneling that was difficult to even see because the whole place
was covered in some kind of moss. It looked like a hobbit’s dream home. There were even some bird and squirrel statues cemented into the sidewalk out front. The place was so weird it was endearing.
The sign above the red door said The Treehouse Bar and Grill, and I waited beside it for Taylor to show up.
Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long.
“Dude, have you been crying?” she asked when she approached, her voice a mix of shock and concern.
I covered my face with my hands. “Ugh, if you noticed, that means everyone at the office probably did too.”
She scoffed. “As if. You said they don’t pay any attention to you anyway.”
“Did you just say, ‘As if’?”
She rolled her eyes. “Clueless was on last night.”
“Aw man, I missed it?”
“Maybe if you spent a little less time macking on Drew, you wouldn’t miss these important moments.”
At the mention of his name, my face fell.
“Oh no, are you going to cry more? Because I can get you some…grass,” she offered, gesturing at the wall.
I stared at her, and she held my gaze for a second before we both burst out laughing.
“Seriously, what even is this place?” she asked between laughs.
“I don’t know. But trust us to find it.”
“True story.” Taylor pulled herself together and opened the door with a flourish. “After you, m’lady.”
“Why thank you, madam.” I stepped inside the place, and when my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I stopped in my tracks, causing Taylor to bump into me from behind.
“What now?” she asked. She was so close to me, I could feel her body shift as she took in her surroundings. “Oh wow.”
The entire place was covered in fairy lights. They twinkled from the exposed-beam ceiling, giving the place an ethereal look. The tables were all fairly low, which made sense because all the chairs were beanbags. At the center was a circular stairway that led through a small opening, like a hatch. The decorations were mostly things you’d expect to find in a tree house: binoculars, cups connected by a wire, comic books, board games.
Two Truths & a Lime (The Love Game Book 3) Page 13
