by Paula Cox
She nodded to Alex who sat at the computer, now hooked to the huge television. He typed a few keys and their old website disappeared and a new one took its place. “Now there is.”
Where the old website was simple and barren, with lists and words, the new website was vibrant, laid out in shades of green with images of plants and trees slowly changing in the background. “I thought, ‘If I was a customer, what would I want to see? What would capture my attention?’ I started with pictures, and worked from there.”
Alex flipped through the pages, showing off the work he and Quinn had done. “I kept a lot of the text you already had, describing what was in the products and how they worked, but I reworded most of it, making it less dry and, I hope, more interesting.”
Michelle burst into giggles when her picture popped up. She was sitting on the side of a tub, her vibrant red bathrobe carefully arranged to suggest much, but reveal nothing, as she poured a handful of salt into the tub.
“Is this live?” Arsen asked.
“Not yet,” Alex said. “It’ll take about ten minutes to upload it to the host, but after that, it will be. We didn’t want to do anything until you had a chance to look at it.”
“Go to the bath salts page,” he ordered. A moment later the page appeared. The salts were arranged in artful piles, showing off their color and shape.
“If we click on a picture,” Alex said, taking over the technical details from Quinn, you get a larger photo.” He clicked and the photo zoomed in so they could see the individual crystals. “That’s true on all the products.”
“You did this?” he asked Quinn.
She felt a cold lump form in her stomach. “The overall design is mine, yes, but I hired a photographer to shoot the photos, and Alex actually did the work to make it all happen.”
Arsen looked back at the television. “Amazing. What do you think?” he asked the group.
“I think we should be uploading it to the host, or whatever, right now,” Zane said. “This is amazing. I knew she was working the website, and I approved the bill for the photography, but I had no idea it was going to look like this.” He looked at Quinn then Alex. “Outstanding work, you two.” His gaze shifted to Michelle. “I want to see that robe when we get home.”
She giggled. “I think we can arrange that.”
“Show them Cyra, Toni, Laura, Julie and Evie,” Quinn suggested.
Alex typed away, popping up the pages with their pictures. Cyra was wrapped in a towel as she smelled a bar of soap, Toni was shown dreamily soaking in a tub full of bubbles and Laura was examining a butterfly on her finger in a beautiful green forest. Julie had a surprised look on her face as she smeared it with soap, and finally Evie was behind a shower door as she washed her hair. She was only a shadow, but there was no mistaking her lush shape.
“They can still order online?” Nelson asked.
“The shopping cart hasn’t changed,” Alex replied. “Only the front end.”
“Let me see the About Us page,” Arsen said.
Alex clicked and the page appeared. He carefully read it. There was no mention of the Blacktop Blades and he nodded in approval. He’d already read a few of the descriptions and they were much better, giving the same information but in a more personal and friendly way.
“I like that bit about the plain white packaging,” Arsen said.
“Where’s that?” Berk asked.
Arsen pointed as he read. “We ship all our B3 products in plain white cartons because our products are so good we don’t need gimmicks or fancy packaging.”
She shrugged. “I had to say something.”
He scanned the room again. “Anyone have a problem with putting this up right now?” The room rumbled with encouragement that the sooner the better. “I agree,” he added then looked at Alex. “Do it.”
Quinn smiled, finally feeling like she was contributing.
Chapter 18
“That’s really great work you and Alex did,” Arsen said as they stepped into his kitchen.
Quinn smiled. “I felt like I should be doing something. Everyone had a job, except me, and I felt like a leach. It came out better than I expected. When it started coming together, and I could see what Alex was doing…”
“That was four or five days ago, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. How’d you know?”
“Elementary, Doctor Quinn,” Arsen replied in a passible British accent. “Or should it be Dr. Quinn, Website Wizard? It doesn’t matter. That’s when you started seeming excited about something. I’m surprised you didn’t have your picture up there somewhere.”
She looked down. “No. I’m not pretty enough and I wanted it to be the old ladies of the club.” He watched her a moment until she met his eyes. “What?”
“I can understand you wanting it to be members of the club, but that not pretty enough excuse is just bullshit.”
She looked down. “I don’t know. I don’t feel very pretty anymore.”
He tipped her head back up. “All the scars you have are on the inside. On the outside you are as lovely as you ever were. It’s only been a month. Give it time, and even those scars will fade.” He continued to hold her chin, not letting her look down, forcing her to meet his eyes so she could see the truth in his words. After a moment he turned her loose. “I have an idea. Let’s go out and celebrate your success as a web designer.”
She smiled. “Okay, but can we take the car? It’s so damn hot down here compared to Flagstaff. The heat just saps me.”
“We can if you want, but the sun will be down soon and then it’ll cool off.”
“Yeah, to ninety-five.”
He laughed. “Do you think you can stand another ride on the Indian? After dinner we’ll run up to Mount Lemmon. It can be as much as thirty degrees cooler up there, and it’s only an hour away.”
“God, that sounds amazing! Can we do that? If I could get out of the heat for just a little while.”
He grinned, delighting in her continued enthusiasm. He glanced at his watch. “If we leave now, we can run up there and have dinner in Summerhaven before the Sawmill closes.”
“The what?”
“The Sawmill Run Restaurant. If we leave now we can be there before they close.”
She grinned. “What are we waiting for?”
The ride started out as hot as ever in the one hundred plus degree afternoon heat. When the bike was moving it was tolerable, but the moment the bike stopped for traffic she felt like she was melting. She wondered how those who lived here ever adjusted to the heat. As they began the climb up Mount Lemmon Highway, she could feel the temperature dropping with every mile.
Arsen was a skilled rider, carving the bike along the twisting road, riding fast but not reckless. She had long been comfortable on the back of a motorcycle, and he gave her no cause for concern.
As they neared the summit, she threw her arms out wide, embracing the cool air rushing over her, and she realized how fitting the name of the small town was. It truly was a haven from the blazing heat of the Tucson and Sonora Desert seven thousand feet below.
The Sawmill was one of the first businesses on the road into Summerhaven, and he wheeled the bike into the parking lot. It was just after seven, and the restaurant closed at eight, so there were plenty of spaces available. She dismounted the bike and stretched, then removed her helmet and breathed deep, enjoying the smell of pine and the cool air. It was in the low eighties, hardly cool, but compared to the heat they left an hour ago, it was blissful.
“Thank you so much,” she gushed as they walked toward the building. “I may never leave.”
They went inside and were immediately seated. The menu was limited, so she selected the smoked chicken, while he picked the meatloaf.
“This is where your cabin is?” she asked softly as they waited for their meal.
“Yeah, at the end of Fern Ridge.”
“Have you been back since that day?”
“No.”
She nodded in understan
ding. She would never willingly return to the Chrome Horsemen clubhouse either. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
He gave her a soft smile. “No, it’s okay. I haven’t been back, but it’s not all because of what happened. Some is that, but part of it is…I just haven’t had a reason. Part of the reason Holly and I used to come up here was to get away from the club and all the stuff going on there. To have some ‘us’ time. Now the club is my life.”
“That’s not healthy, you know, working all the time.”
He shrugged. “You’ve seen it. It’s not like I’m killing myself. I can come and go pretty much as I want. Zane runs the day to day stuff. I’m there, primarily, to design new products and do quality testing. We haven’t introduced anything new in a while, so…”
She chewed her lower lip. “About your product. I have another idea that I want to run past you.”
He grinned. “You’re just full of ideas. Sure, what?”
“It’s really just a continuation of the website redesign. It’s about the packing of the products.”
“What about it?” he asked as their dinners arrived. He nodded his thanks to the waitress, then turned his attention back to Quinn.
“I think you need to upgrade that as well.”
“Why? I thought it was clever that bit you put in about the plain packaging.”
“I did that trying to cover the fact you ship your stuff in plastic bags and plain boxes. But this is a luxury product. Nobody needs bath beads or fancy soap.”
“So?” he asked.
The Blades had started B3 as a cover for their purchase of chemicals that were used in the manufacturing of the MDMA, in particular the sassafras oil. They purchased it, along with other natural aromatic oils, for the making of their bath products, and no one was the wiser. The rest of the items they used to manufacture MDMA, like p-benzoquinone, methanol, methylene chloride, or sodium bicarbonate were also used in the manufacturing of the legal products, and one of the plastics that held their bath salts was also the same bag they used to ship their MDMA. Nothing was used exclusively for their MDMA production and if they were ever inspected, they had the records to show they were operating a legal and legitimate business.
What they hadn’t counted on, however, was the products selling, and no one was more shocked than him. What had started out as a cover had developed into a nice revenue stream, but it was still just a cover and he really didn’t care what the packaging looked like.
“So, you upgrade the packaging to match the market,” she explained. “It doesn’t have to cost a lot. I’m thinking printed boxes with the new B3 logo on it and some leaves or something to match the website. But more than that, the beads and salts should ship in clear containers. People display these things in their bathrooms, you know?”
He frowned. “That will be a major change to our manufacturing process. Right now our autoloader is designed for bags.”
“But it could be changed, right?”
“It could be, but it’ll cost money.”
“Okay, but the club seems like it can afford it. If you did this, you could either charge more, if you like, or if you keep your prices low like you have them now, and sell a lot more. Maybe do both.”
He finished scraping up his meal and popped it into his mouth. “I don’t understand why the packaging matters if the stuff inside is the same.”
“That’s because you’re not a woman. If I bought your bath salts and they came in a fancy looking jar I could put out beside my tub, I would be much happier than if the same salts were in plastic bag like I freeze my leftover spaghetti sauce in. I would probably use more of them too because they would be where I could see them. I’m certain you could raise your price enough to cover the increased cost of packaging, and maybe a little more, plus increase your sales.”
He chuckled. “We don’t use Ziploc bags.”
“No, but you might as well.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Sure, no, but if you look at your competitors, they all sell their product just like I’m proposing. There must be a reason for it. The bags really cheapen the experience when you open the box.”
He thought about it a moment. “Okay. When we get back, give me some ideas on the cost of the packaging. Once you have that, I’ll find out what it’ll take to change the process over. Then you can make the pitch to the club. If the club approves, we’ll do it.”
She quickly drummed her fingers on the edge of the table in excitement as her face broke into a huge smile. “I have some ideas already. I was thinking about this as I was working on the website. You won’t be disappointed, I promise!”
He grinned as he picked up the check. “If you do half as good a job on this as you did the website, it’ll be great.”
The sun had disappeared and the temperature was noticeably cooler when they stepped out of the restaurant. “I can’t believe how much cooler it is up here than in Tucson,” Quinn said as she pulled on her helmet.
“It snows here in the winter.”
“Snows?” she asked, her eyes narrowing, watching to see if he was yanking her chain.
“Yeah. There’s a ski resort just up the road.”
“You’re kidding me!”
“Want to see?”
“Sure!”
They rode up to the lodge at Mt. Lemmon Ski Valley and Quinn was amazed that just an hour from the broiling heat of Tucson, there was skiing available, even in the winter. “I didn’t know, and I sure as hell would have never guessed,” she said, the Indian thrumming between their legs as she stared at the lodge.
He chuckled. “You ski?”
She laughed. “I’m from Arizona! Of course I don’t ski.”
He grinned, then his smile faded. Maybe it was time for him to face his demons too. “I have something else to show you.”
Chapter 19
They rumbled through town, weaving along the twisting and narrow roads, until he pulled to stop in front of a cabin well out from Summerhaven. He sat for a moment, wondering if he wanted to do this, then switched the bike off.
She felt a chill as they pulled to a stop on the concrete pad at the back of the cabin. The cabin was bigger than she expected, with a steeply pitched roof and dark wooden siding. There was a deck surrounding the cabin on three sides with a natural stone chimney extending off one side. The deck was at ground level in the back, where they were, but the ground dropped precipitously toward the front, the tall deck supported by thick stone columns.
“This your cabin?” she asked in the quiet.
“The club’s cabin, yes.” She shivered, and not just from the cold. “You cold?” he asked when she shifted.
“A little. I can’t believe how much cooler it is up here. I should have worn a jacket.”
“Want to see inside?”
She did. “Only if you’re ready.”
He nodded. “I won’t know until I go inside.” He looked around him. “This is about where I found Dad.”
“We don’t have to do this,” she said softly.
“I need to.”
She stepped off the bike. He sat for a moment longer, then kicked the stand down and stepped off. There were only a couple of small windows and a door on the back of the cabin, a door he unlocked and opened. She stepped into a short hall as he flipped on the lights. To the left was a laundry room, the right a full bath. She moved down the hall into a large kitchen, but what caught her attention immediately was the view. The kitchen and large family room formed one large space with floor to ceiling windows that reached to the peak of the vaulted ceiling thirty feet or more above. The room was dotted with oversize furniture, all arranged to face the glass or the mammoth fireplace.
She moved farther into the house, and the kitchen ceiling stopped. She craned her neck as lights popped on. She looked behind her, and over the kitchen was a high ceiling. She could see the second floor, railed off from the opening with wood.
She turned to Arsen. He was standing in the kitchen stari
ng at the floor. “Is that…?”
“Yeah.”
There were no signs of violence, but he was clearly seeing his dead wife and mother lying in the floor. “Give me a tour?” she asked, trying to draw him out of his memories.
He looked up and gave her a sad smile. “Sure. This is the kitchen, obviously. He joined her in the family room. “Some view huh? You should see it in the daytime.”
She could just make out the shapes of the surrounding mountains, the dark night alive with stars, and the occasional bright pinpoint of light of another cabin.
“This is amazing,” she murmured.
