Page 84 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
She glares at me, but not in her usual way. There’s no dislike in her gaze, only a warning to back off.
I don’t listen. I can’t when every time our knees touch or her fingers brush my arm, I want to turn back time to an hour ago, both of us in the gym with the only problem to solve is how quickly we can erase every millimeter of space between us.
“You can’t leave. We’ll figure out what to do. I have lawyers. You can sue.”
“Malcolmhas lawyers,” Piper pushes back.
“So do I…”
“Ifyou go back to Brisbane.”
We go back and forth like this for a few minutes before Stella breaks in.
“Expose them online,” she says casually. “Valente, I mean.”
Piper and I both pivot to Stella. “What?”
“If you have proof that they stole your designs, we make a video and get everyone we know to share it across social media. The star power in this room alone improves your potential to go viral, but if we get Rhys and Georgia Rose on board, there’s no way you won’t. They both have millions of followers.” Stellaspeaks with the confidence of a social media manager who consistently has viral reels and Tik Toks. Because that’s exactly who she is.
“You know Georgia Rose Beck? FromAt Home with Georgia Rose?” Piper’s wide-eyed expression gives away how impressed she is.
“All my life,” Stella answers.
“She’s my sister-in-law,” Britta adds.
“Did I forget to mention that?” I say.
Piper rolls her eyes. “Yes, you forgot to mention that your best friend’s wife is related to the biggest home design influencer on social media.”
Then she turns back to Stella. “Even if we went viral, that wouldn’t stop Valente from using my designs. They’ve made enough changes to claim they weren’t my ideas.”
“So, you release your designs before Valente does.” Stella lifts her shoulders in a no-big-deal kind of shrug.
Piper laughs. “Yeah, because I happen to have a spare garment factory to help me manufacture my designs, which, to add another layer of complication, I want to produce using eco-friendly and sustainable techniques.” She lets out another, more bitter, laugh. “I appreciate you wanting to help, but let’s get back to solving Archie’s problems.”
“Okay, but listen…” Stella slides to the edge of the couch, a huge smile on her face. “You could make a few pieces, right? Because that’s all it would take to set up a crowdfund type thing. Show the pieces, tell the story of what Valente is doing—people love a good little-guy-versus-The-Man story—pre-orders flood in, and you have the funds to start your own brand.”
“Stella, you clever woman…” I say, looking from her to Piper, expecting Piper to be as excited as I am about getting revenge on Valente. She’s skilled at revenge, after all. My hair is proof of that.
But Piper’s pressed into the couch, looking as interested in Stella’s idea as she would be in eating the sushi from last night out of the garbage.
“I don’t have the name recognition for thousands of people to pre-order my designs. I think they’re good, but I doubt people will rush to buy from a no-name designer. And Valente might claim I stole the designs from them.”
“I’ve seen your work,” Frankie cuts in. “It’s top notch. People will absolutely want to buy from you. The hard part would be keeping up with demand. There’s no way you could do it by yourself.”
“With enough demand, she wouldn’t have to,” Stella answers before Piper can. “She can hire people to help.”
I nudge Piper. “What about your friend who got fired today?”
She sits straighter, more interested but still unsure. “I don’t know how I’d find her, but maybe she’d be interested. Still, I’d need more than my portfolio as proof that Valente stole from me and not the other way around, in case they accused me.”
We talk through those possibilities until Britta stifles a yawn. Dex notices and stands.
“I’m out of my depth here, and Britta needs to get to bed,” he says, stretching, then looks pointedly at me. “You can only deflect so long, mate. You still need to make some decisions about your own fate.”
Britta holds out her hand for Dex to pull her up. “You and Piper could always work together, if you’re going to start Bombora, Arch,” she says with another yawn. “You’ll need a designer.”
I stare at Britta, considering whether her idea is sleep-deprived nonsense or pure genius.
