Page 17 of So Not My Thing
“My food reviews are not work. They are love.”
I snorted. “Tell it to whoever gets your three-star reviews. Don’t think it feels like love to them.”
“Then they should make better food.” She bounced from the bed. “I’m going to shower. I’ll be ready before seven with a couple of whiskey sours for us to pre-game.”
I rolled my eyes. Chloe would do her best to get me into trouble tonight, but that was nothing new. Come tomorrow morning, I might have a slight hangover, but I’d also have a better sense of what to show Miles so I could seal the deal and make my quarterly goal. He’d be so impressed with my understanding of the kind of space he needed, he’d be ready to sign on the dotted line by the end of business on Monday.
Chapter Six
“Idon’t know,” Milessaid, frowning at the final space I’d booked for us to view.
The bare walls and serviceable floor tile didn’t hint at greatness, it was true. But he wasn’t eventryingto take it seriously, and it made me feel kind of...stabby. It was late Monday afternoon and an unseasonably hot day. Maybe the humidity was making me cranky because none of the properties had their air conditioning on. Or maybe it was the fact that he was dismissing the last property I had to show him without considering the possibilities ofanyof the properties.
“What don’t you know?” I asked. “It’s the right size, it has a generous kitchen, it’s a high-traffic location, and the price is good. I only showed you those other two so you’d see how awesome this one is.”
“A little sales psychology, huh?”
I didn’t like his tone. It sounded judgy. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m trying to sell you a used car I know will break down tomorrow.”
Miles ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit I’d seen a few times today. A couple of pieces stuck up, and I wanted to reach over and smooth them back into place. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant. It’s just...” He looked around the wide, empty space, the walls painted dark red, the stained acoustic tiles in the ceiling. “What doyoulike about this space?”
I mustered my most cheerful sales voice, a tone that sounded like a cheerleader making a business pitch. Perky, perky, perky. “It’s got great dimensions for seating. The stage could go there.” I pointed to an area along the side wall. “You don’t want to face your audience toward the kitchen, so putting them crossways from it lets your wait staff slip in and out unobtrusively. Your bar would go over there.” I pointed in the opposite corner. “Make it extra-long for more seating. Honestly, it’s a great set up. Ideal, even.”
He nodded. “I hear what you’re saying. And I grew up coming to the Quarter and listening at doors until I’d get chased away. I love the history of it. You can feel it in the building.”
“It has a good vibe, right?”
“It does.”
“But?”
He rubbed his hand over his face. “But this block doesn’t.”
