Page 15 of Go Deep (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)
6
Cassidy
I’d been waiting halfan hour at the library for Slade, and the minute I packed up my things to leave, my phone buzzed with a new text message. I tapped the screen to view it, expecting it to be Slade telling me he was late.
The message was from Slade, all right. It said, ‘Got an idea. Meet me at The Cajun Grill.’
I was furious right away. And skeptical too. There had to be a reason he didn’t meet me at the library. My guess was because he was trying to lure me off by myself. At least he wasn’t asking me over to his room in the frat house. The thought was hardly reassuring, though.
I texted back, ‘Why?’
Typical. His reply was, ‘Have a little faith. You’ll see. Get your fine ass down here.’
‘On my way,’ I texted back, curious as ever. I took a deep breath to brace myself for this off-campus meeting with him, not knowing what to expect.
I walked back to the dorm and got in my Ford Taurus, as The Cajun Grill was almost halfway to downtown. Tossing my bag in the passenger seat, I turned the key in the ignition.
Nothing.
I tried again.
Nothing.
“What? Crap.” I hit the steering wheel and pulled out my phone, considering calling Slade for help, but thought better of it. I grabbed my bags and headed to the bus stop a block away, which stopped right at The Cajun Grill, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about parking.
The Cajun Grill was a tiny roadside diner where everyone went, from college kids to the local crowd. For students, it was a good, out of the way spot to get a cheap meal away from campus. For locals, it was the convenience and probably that tucked-away feel the place had.
I pushed through the glass door and found Slade sitting with a bunch of papers spread out on the table.
“Hey.” He stood to greet me as I approached. Such a gentleman, but I’d seen how he snubbed girls he wasn’t interested in, so I knew that every gesture had a purpose. He’d do well to remember that I’d known him long enough to witness most of his tricks.
“So what’s the deal with making me come all the way down here, and by bus, no less?”
“Why’d you take the bus? You could have just phoned and I would have swung by for you.”
“Last minute car trouble. Anyway, what’s all this?” I asked, sitting down beside him.
“Our business plan,” he announced proudly.
“Wait, what?”
He handed me a printed copy. “Well it’s more of a close to final draft. If you review it and put your stamp of approval, we can run with it. Take a look.”
“Oh, okay. So you did this yourself?” I flipped through the first couple of pages. He had everything organized, and in the format Dr. Taylor wanted. All of his supporting document and research was laid out on the table too.
“It’s for an Animal Shelter Adoption Drive,” he said with pride.
“An adoption drive?” I asked him. “This is supposed to be for a business, not an event, Slade.”
“I know, I know, but hear me out. There are a ton of shelters around the city, right? And that means there is a metric shit-ton of animals that need homes. So, instead of opening another shelter and taking attention away from current shelters, let’s start a company that helps them organize adoption drives. We can even use it to help move animals from some of the pet shops around town as well.”
I stopped to consider what he was telling me. I had to admit, it sounded pretty interesting.
“We could do it month to month, either by shelter or invite all the shelters to come together and do one massive drive each month. It just depends on what the shelters want to do at that point. We’d have to work closely with them to get everything organized. That’s why I asked you here instead of meeting up with you at the library.”
“Why here? What does really average local food have to do with animal shelters?”
“Look outside.”
