Page 13 of A Perfect Match
“I’m inclined to sign on the dotted line already,” I admit with a little laugh, “but what’s in it for me?”
Pat lowers his chin.“Exposure, honey.Tons of it.Hundreds of thousands of viewers who will become instant fans of Cloud Nine Confections.But I know exposure doesn’t pay the bills.We pay out according to how much planned airtime you’ll get.Your store would be something of a smaller segment, but we’ll be cutting you a check if you agree to join the show.”
“And what would I have to do?”
He shrugs noncommittally.“Nothing.Just be yourself.Make your marshmallows.Brew the coffee.We’ll just grab some footage, capture you in your natural habitat, and see what comes up.Stuff like that.”
I pretend to think about it, but I already know my answer.Fuck yes.I’ve been researching this show since the crew showed up, and they have a voracious fanbase.If I can convince even a fraction of those viewers to stop by my shop on their next trip to Ohio, I’ll be further ahead than before.
Besides, it’ll be a chance for me to make America love me more than they love Kru.
And I can’t pass that up.
“It sounds great,” I admit.“I’d love more eyes on my business.”
“That’s what we’ll give you.Inspades,” Pat says.He winks at me before he turns for the door.“I’ll get some paperwork to you shortly.They’ll be filming over here by next week.Talk soon, Piper.”
Pat pushes out of the shop, leaving me pensive and alone.
I mill around for the rest of the day, alternating between focus on custom orders and wondering what the hell I got myself into.Did I really just agree to be on a reality TV show?It seems a little extreme, but I also recognize it for what it is: a business move.
I’ve seen what viral success can do.It helped boost my business early on.It’s why I’m as successful as I am, barely six years in, especially after the dumpster fire origin story of this place.Cloud Nine didn’t start asmymarshmallow shop; it began as a partnership between me and a former friend (emphasis onformer) who wanted to run this place like a personal bank account while disputing every marketing idea I had.Our first year was a total nightmare, and when our sales barely equaled expenses and she was ready to jump ship, I jumped on the chance to push her out of the business altogether.
I’d gone into business withher in order to offset the scary investment required to launch a business like this.And to avoid having to ask my family for money.But I ended up crawling to my brothers for a loan to buy her out—and that whole debacle was imprinted in their mind as evidence that I have no idea what I’m doing and can never be trusted with business decisions ever again.Never mind the fact that I have long since paid them back.
And while this reality TV show might be a one-way ticket to the next level, I have a sneaking suspicion my brothers aren’t going to see it that way.
Somehow I make it through the noisy, slow workday.When it’s time to close down at six, my head is pounding.I can already envision all the zeroes my invoice to Kru will have for the damages related to surviving his construction-related racket.Once I’m in the shrouded sanctuary of my second-floor apartment, I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders, only to be replaced by a recurring donkey kick of realization.
I need to move ASAP.
Whatever tension I had from the work day has now multiplied.Kru sure knows how to ruin my dayandmy week.I sigh heavily, looking at the meager stash of boxes I’ve managed to assemble since he dropped the bomb on my cozy little above-shop life.I need help.Not just with packing, but finding somewhere to live.
My phone rings.I have a sinking feeling in my gut before I even look at the phone, and the name on the screen confirms my spidey sense.
It’s Griff.
I answer hesitantly.“Hey, brother.”
“Sup, Pipes?”
“Just getting home from work,” I say, sinking into my green velvet love seat near the door.One of my most treasured thrift finds.
“Aren’t you normally still at the shop?”he asks.
“Yeah, I’ve just got so much left to do,” I say, then snap my mouth shut.I haven’t told anyone in my family yet about the kicking-out.I feel it’s best to drop one life-altering bomb at a time with my brothers, at a rate of about a month per piece of bad news.I’ve learned the hard way what it means to grow up with four hawkish, father-like older brothers.They can’t find out about my needing to move until after it happens, since they’re already incensed by the purchase of the building.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
A tense silence emerges.“Then what is there to do?”
“Nothing.I don’t know.It’s just a phrase.”
“A phrase.”The way Griffin repeats my words back to me tells me exactly how full of shit he thinks I am.
“Yeah.Like English.”
