Page 99 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

“The people who are attracted to Vossameerarecompetitive. They’re the best of the best.”

“I have a perspective from the bottom rung. I’m telling you. People are uptight and unhappy. They admire you in a kind of frightened way, and it keeps them from being relaxed and creative.”

He seems surprised. “You think they’re unhappy?”

Has nobody ever told him anything like that? “I know they are. You ban decorations, and even microwave popcorn. People love microwave popcorn!”

“Microwave popcorn is a ridiculous food. It has zero nutritional value and barely even any taste. It’s like eating smell. And it distracts everyone else.”

“Yeah, well people love it. Why not let them have it?”

“I’m not running a circus.”

“Isn’t a scientist supposed to be open to new evidence?” I ask. “You need to do something to help people feel more loose and easy. I don’t know, praise them more. Let them have treats. Find ways to encourage them to be creative. Show they’re appreciated, make them feel more secure so they don’t have to work so late. You could make it so much better to work there.”

He seems to be thinking about it.

“And while you’re at it, get some color in there. Let people make it homey. Let them put pictures up.” I stop. “I’m coloring outside the fuck buddy lines. I think it’s the lack of sugar. It’s amazing coffee, too, but so sad without sugar.”

He’s just watching me. I can’t read his expression.

“But that microwave popcorn ban?” I continue, because apparently I can’t help it. “No. If I were you, I’d supply them with awesome treats.” I look down. “This coffee is a crime.”

“We could go somewhere else.”

“No, just…” I’m thinking about that corner store. It’s like I can feel the sugar straining through the walls, trying to get at my coffee. “Excuse me for one second.”

“Where are you going?”

“BRB.” I go out onto the street and pop into the store. They only have sugar in two-pound bags. I buy it and bring it back and plop it down on the table.

“What the hell is that?” he growls.

“You know what it is.” I rip open the corner, trying not to grin. I pour a long stream of it into my coffee as he watches sternly. I pour and pour, possibly a little more than usual. I stir. I taste. “Heaven.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Want some?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Is your body a temple?”

“I think I showed you the answer to that this morning,” he rumbles.

I nearly snort out my coffee. I take a pen from my purse and I write my new phone number on the sugar. “You should bring this home with you. I think you need it.”

“You’re really moving to Fargo? Are you sure that’s…what you want?”

“No, it’s not what I want. Certain events caused my financial ruination, and it’s hard to dig out of something like that in Manhattan. I’m only going for eighteen months. I’ll help my parents with the pizzeria, and I’ll do catering through one graduation season and two holiday seasons.”

“So you have it all figured out.”

“Yeah. I can work like a devil there, and I’ll make bank with no overhead. I know exactly how much I can make. I’ll restructure my debt and come back with seed money to open a bakery here. Like I had before, but better. It’s not like anyone is going to rent a good space to me, what with my credit now.”

“What if they do? What if the most amazing space falls into your lap?”

“That doesn’t happen in New York. If it’s cheap, there’s something wrong with it.” I stir my coffee, feeling sad. “It’s just reality. I’ll miss it here, though. I’ll miss my friends.”

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