Chapter 43
Willow placed a second pitcher of water in the middle of the long, polished mahogany table. Her hands shook so much that she nearly spilled half of it over the notepads with the Kudos logo that rested at each setting.
“Hey.” Scottie straightened from where she’d been crouched in front of the massive wall-mounted LED display that dominated the far end of the conference room. She walked over to Willow but didn’t touch her, as if sensing that any contact might be too much right now. “You okay?”
Willow inhaled deeply and tried to match her breath to Scottie’s steady rhythm.
“Yeah.” She sighed. “No. I barely slept, and when I did, I had nightmares of the display bursting into flames, the laptop flashing the blue screen of death, the video suddenly playing cat memes…and Mr. Sorensen firing me on the spot.”
“Don’t worry,” Scottie said, her voice as soft and soothing as a touch. “None of that will happen—even though I personally think cat memes would be way cooler than Sorensen’s third slide.”
Willow gave her a weak smile. “True.”
“It’ll all go well,” Scottie said. “No presentation in the history of license negotiations has ever been better prepared than this one. The tech side is all set. I even used a physical HDMI cable instead of relying on a wireless setup—less potential for Wi-Fi drama.”
Willow swept her gaze over the room. Six executive leather chairs flanked the long table on either side. A smaller table along the wall held coffee, milk and creamer, and a selection of premium teas.
The large display was powered on, and Scottie had double- and triple-checked all connections, settings, and the volume levels of the ceiling speakers.
They had tested the slides and made sure all embedded animations and videos ran smoothly. The cover slide was up on the screen now, the Kudos logo crisp and clear.
The emergency tech glitch response kit Scottie had put together for her rested on the floor next to a sideboard—close enough for Willow to reach it easily, but out of her immediate vicinity, so the batteries wouldn’t drain.
It held a backup laptop, two replacement clickers, an extra-long HDMI cable, and every battery and adapter known to mankind.
“You’re ready for every glitch the tech gremlins might throw at you.
We ran so many tech-failure drills last week, you can fix them all with your eyes closed.
And if you can’t, I’ll be right outside.
” Scottie nodded toward the other side of the frosted glass wall.
“If you open this door, I’ll be there before you can even say help, okay? ”
Willow wiped her clammy hands on her midnight-blue pencil skirt. “Okay. Thank you. For all of this.”
Scottie looked her in the eyes, her gaze steady. “No need to thank me. I’ve got your back. Always.”
The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, quickly coming closer.
Willow’s pulse skyrocketed.
When the door swung open, Scottie backed away and pretended to double-check the display settings.
Mr. Sorensen was the first one in, wearing an immaculate charcoal suit and a tie in the Kudos brand colors.
Four other Kudos executives filtered in behind him, some ignoring her, some murmuring greetings.
Sorensen gave Willow a brief nod. “Is everything ready?”
“Yes, Mr. Sorensen,” she answered, struggling to sound calm and confident. “Tested and ready.”
“You’ve got this,” Scottie mouthed over the COO’s shoulder, then slipped out of the room.
Willow stayed behind, her heart pounding so hard that her entire body seemed to be pulsating. She prayed that for the next thirty minutes, every piece of technology in this room would behave for once and not turn into a reason for her boss to fire her.
~ ~ ~
It wasn’t long before the Unicorn Pictures delegation arrived.
Three of them were practically indistinguishable from the Kudos execs—all middle-aged, white men in gray or navy suits—but the fourth one was a woman.
Willow had read up on Unicorn Pictures, so she instantly knew who she was: Freida Rhodes, their VP of Consumer Products and the lead negotiator when it came to this licensing deal.
In a custom-tailored, champagne-colored pantsuit and designer heels that probably cost more than Willow’s rent, she looked effortlessly powerful.
She glanced around with sharp eyes, as if assessing everything within seconds.
Her gaze paused on Willow for a moment, despite her best attempts to make herself invisible.
Even Mr. Sorensen practically snapped to attention when she shook his hand. It would have been hilarious if Willow hadn’t felt ready to throw up.
“Gentlemen.” Freida Rhodes’s cool voice filled the conference room. “Shall we?”
The low hum of professional pleasantries instantly fell silent, and everyone took their seat at the table—the Kudos team on the left, the Unicorn Pictures people on the right, while Ms. Rhodes sat at the head of the table, with the best view of the display.
Willow had been positioned to Sorensen’s left, an empty chair separating her from the inner circle of decision makers. From there, she could quickly reach the tech cart with the laptop or slip out the door to get more coffee if needed.
Her heart thumped against her ribs as Mr. Sorensen took up position slightly to the side of the LED display.
This was it. She tried to calm her breathing.
Through the frosted glass wall, she caught a glimpse of a silhouette on the other side. She knew without a doubt it was Scottie, who’d made up an excuse to hover near the conference room.
The thought that Scottie was near, ready to rush in and slay any digital dragons, calmed her. She no longer minded accepting help from her because she knew Scottie wouldn’t see her as a burden or a helpless damsel.
Mr. Sorensen cleared his throat, about to launch into his opening line when the sun peeked out from behind a wall of gray clouds. The glare bounced off the massive LED screen.
He grabbed the remote to close the blinds.
Nothing happened. The blinds didn’t move an inch.
Frowning, he pressed the button again.
Still nothing.
Willow’s stomach lurched. The licensing pitch wasn’t off to a good start. She didn’t need to guess what had gone wrong. The remote had been on the table, only a few feet from where she was sitting. Her nervous energy must have drained the batteries.
The wall switch should work, but did she really want to get up, walk across the room without tripping over cords, and return to her seat while everyone was watching?
Definitely not.
Quickly, she opened her emergency kit and took out a pair of fresh AAAs. “May I?” She nodded at the remote that hung useless in Mr. Sorensen’s grip.
Still frowning, he handed it over.
She took it, careful not to brush his fingers, swapped out the batteries, and pressed the button.
The motorized blinds smoothly slid down.
Mr. Sorensen gave her one last glare, as if she was to blame for the blinds not working.
Okay, she probably was, but he couldn’t know that.
Then he straightened his tie, grabbed the presenter remote, and clicked the first slide into view, making the Kudos logo morph into the film studio’s unmistakable emblem.
“Here at Kudos Entertainment, we have long admired the world-building and creativity coming out of Unicorn Pictures, and we see a clear path to bringing that magic into homes worldwide.”
His smooth, confident voice filled the room as he went through his pitch.
Willow stopped listening but remained on high alert, her attention fully on the tech. She kept an eye on the indicator light of Sorensen’s clicker. Scottie had put in a brand-new battery earlier, but with Willow’s nervousness spiking, it might drain as quickly as the remote for the blinds had.
“And here’s how we envision the Galaxion line.” Sorensen pressed the forward button on his clicker, advancing to the next slide. “As you can see, it’s designed with interactive features that match the cinematic experience of the movie.”
The massive LED display behind him began to flicker. Horizontal white streaks fractured the rotating 3D mock-up of the toy.
A murmur went through the room. Everyone glanced back and forth between Sorensen and the screen. The legal counsel for Unicorn Pictures raised his eyebrows and murmured something about checking the HDMI cable.
But Willow knew that wouldn’t help. Scottie had checked it three times earlier, and it had been fine. The problem wasn’t a loose plug; it was her own turbulent energy that disrupted the signal.
A surge of panic swept over Willow. But then Scottie’s calm voice echoed through her mind: If the connection between the laptop and the display gets corrupted, toggle the display input off and back on.
They had rehearsed this! Muscle memory, honed through Scottie’s week-long tech-failure drills, kicked in. This time, she didn’t ask or wait for permission. She grabbed the display’s remote and changed the input from HDMI1 to HDMI2.
The screen went black, sending a new murmur through the room.
Willow ignored it. Fingers trembling, she switched back to HDMI1. Hopefully, that would establish a new connection without her having to unplug the cables or restart the laptop, disrupting the entire presentation.
The display sprang back to life. For a moment, it showed only the HDMI1 label.
Willow held her breath.
The 3D toy mock-up reappeared, the image now crisp and vivid, without a hint of a flicker.
Kudos’s head of marketing exhaled loudly.
“As I was saying,” Mr. Sorensen continued as if the momentary interruption had been a planned, dramatic pause, “each of the core figures will come with modular armor and gear, allowing kids to recreate sequences from the movie. We’ve even integrated proximity pairing.
When two figures are brought close together, they trigger sound effects and signature lines of dialogue. ”
He clicked to a video demonstration, and everyone in the room visibly relaxed.