Chapter 2
HOLLIS
“Who’s next?” I held up another sample cup of the green shake, and three hands shot up immediately.
I grinned and passed them out, watching as the women took their first sips. The reaction was always the same—pursed lips, then wide eyes, then a smile followed by a bigger sip. Full sample cups never landed in my wastebasket. Every drop landed in the bellies of my prospective clients.
“So what’s in this?” one of them asked, licking her lips.
“Spinach, kale, banana, mango, and our proprietary blend of adaptogens and antioxidants,” I said, falling into the pitch I’d given about a thousand times.
“The greens give you sustained energy without the crash you get from coffee. The fruit makes it actually taste like something you’d want to drink.
And the adaptogens help your body regulate stress and hunger cues. ”
They nodded like they knew what I was talking about. They didn’t and that was okay. All they had to do was drink it and feel the effects. And if they wanted to stare into my eyes while I pitched and ask me to repeat myself? I was more than willing to oblige.
A blonde in yoga pants raised her hand. “Does it actually work for appetite control?”
“It does for me,” I said honestly. “The fiber and protein keep you fuller longer, and the adaptogens help balance your cortisol levels. High cortisol makes you crave sugar and carbs. Balance it out, and those cravings decrease naturally.”
I inwardly cringed at myself, not wanting to sound too much like I was giving a lecture. They didn’t give a shit about why they craved sugar at two in the afternoon. That was my problem to solve. And I had. They just had to consume the blend I had spent a few years creating.
Toby was circling with his phone, capturing the crowd’s reactions. The kid was getting better at this. When I’d hired him three months ago, he’d been filming everything in portrait mode like an amateur. Now he was thinking about angles, lighting, and which moments would actually drive engagement.
He was my social media manager, handling all the stuff I couldn’t be bothered with. Whatever drove the sales to my website.
“Can I get a selfie?” A brunette stepped forward, already pulling out her phone.
I gave her my practiced smile, friendly but not too eager. “Buy something and you can take all the selfies you want.”
She laughed. “Deal.”
That was the key. I wasn’t going to be a dancing monkey for free, but I also wasn’t above using whatever advantages I had. If my face helped sell a product I actually believed in, then so be it. I’d worked too hard on my products to let pride get in the way of success.
Toby appeared at my elbow with the tablet. “Three more orders,” he said, grinning. “This is insane, man. We’re going to hit our sales target before lunch.”
“That’s great news,” I said. “Make sure we have enough samples.”
He nodded and headed back to the display table where we had the bottles arranged. I’d spent months getting the packaging right. Just a simple green bottle with white lettering. Professional. Trustworthy.
A woman in her fifties approached, more hesitant than the younger crowd. “Would it work on a woman of my,” she paused to look around, like being discreet was possible at an event like this, before turning back to me and whispering, “age?”
I flashed another smile. “Try it.” I handed her one of the samples. “See for yourself. Taste it first. Don’t buy anything you don’t like.”
She took a sip, and I watched her eyebrows rise. “Oh. That’s actually good.”
“Right?” I grinned. “Health food doesn’t have to taste like you’re grazing.”
She laughed and pulled out her wallet. Another sale.
This was what I’d been working toward for the past year. Not just a product but a real business. Something that was mine, not handed to me because of my last name. My brothers had their ventures, their successes. I needed mine.
And Dad always said do what you love.
The green shakes were just the beginning.
I had the no-meat burger thing in the works.
They were damn good, better than most of the plant-based options on the market.
But they were expensive to produce right now.
I needed the shakes to take off first, build up capital, then reinvest in scaling the burger production. One step at a time.
Right now we were strictly online. But I had plans. Big plans. One day, people would walk into their favorite health food store to get my products, and I could give the gift of health one affordable bottle at a time.
“Hollis!” Toby waved me over. “We need more samples mixed. We’re almost out.”
I nodded and started heading toward the back of the booth where we had the cooler and the blender. The crowd was thick, everyone pressing in to get their taste. This was actually working.
I was reaching for the blender when I noticed her.
She stood at the edge of the crowd, not pushing forward like the others.
A blonde in a tailored skirt suit that screamed “professional” in a sea of athleisure.
Her hair was pinned back like she was headed into a courtroom.
She had sharp blue eyes that were currently scanning my booth like she was conducting an audit.
Who the hell was this woman?
And why was I intrigued?
Something about her made me stand up straighter.
I told myself it wasn’t the way her breasts played the most daring game of chicken I’d ever seen with her blouse buttons, or the way her legs looked in that skirt and heel combo.
I had an intense visual of gripping her thigh with my hand, feeling her softness, and?—
Focus, I chastised myself and tore my gaze from the sexy blonde. I could not under any circumstance ogle a prospective client looking for my help.
“Here.” I handed the blender pitcher to Toby. “Mix up another batch.”
“I’m just here to film,” he protested.
“Then film yourself mixing another batch.”
I made my way back to the front, and the hypnotizing woman’s blue eyes locked onto me. She didn’t smile. Didn’t blush or giggle like most of the women who’d been hovering around all morning. She studied me like a bug under a microscope.
“Can I help you?” I asked, giving her my best smile.
“I have some questions about your product.”
“Fire away.” I leaned against the table, confident I could answer anything she threw my way.
“You mentioned sustained energy without the crash.” Her tone expressed her disbelief. “What testing have you done to verify that claim?”
“Well, I’ve been drinking it for about a year now, and I can tell you?—”
“That’s not testing. That’s anecdotal evidence from a sample size of one.”
I blinked. “Right, but I’ve also gotten feedback from customers.”
“Also anecdotal.” She crossed her arms. “Have you conducted any controlled trials? Double-blind studies? Any actual scientific research to back up what you’re claiming?”
Ohhhh. She wanted to play. “The sustained energy comes from the fiber slowing digestion and the protein preventing blood sugar spikes. It’s simple science.”
Now what? I hated when people assumed I was some gym bro. Like I didn’t know what I was talking about. I was more than a pretty face.
The crowd around us had gone quiet, watching our exchange like it was a tennis match.
“The ingredients may support that,” she said with a shrug. “But it hasn’t been clinically tested, has it?”
I felt my jaw tighten. “Look, I’m not making medical claims here.
I’m just saying what people tell me after they try it.
They feel better. They have more energy.
They’re not as hungry between meals. Science has proven the ingredients.
The rest is in the results from people that have actually tried it. ”
“So you’re basing your entire marketing strategy on subjective feelings from customers who’ve already bought into the idea that this will work.” She picked up one of my product cards, scanning it. “Buzz words. These are big claims for someone who hasn’t done any actual research.”
I clenched my jaw. I didn’t know who the woman was but I had some pretty strong opinions about what I’d like to say that would absolutely drive my business away.
Composure in this moment was crucial. “I’ve done plenty of research.
I’m not blowing smoke up anybody’s ass, which is what you’re implying. ”
“Not implying anything. I’m saying it directly.”
Holy fuck. The audacity.
“All my products have come with a money-back guarantee,” I said, shrugging. “I stand by the quality of my drinks.”
I could feel the crowd starting to shift. Some of the women who’d been ready to buy were now looking uncertain, their wallets still in their bags. This woman was killing my sales, and she knew it.
“You know what?” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “Try a sample. You might change your mind. If not, that’s okay too.”
She reached past me and grabbed one of the sample cups Toby had just set out. “Let’s see if it lives up to the hype.”
She took a swig, and I waited for the usual reaction. The pleasant surprise that something healthy could actually taste good.
Instead, her face twisted like she’d just licked a battery.
“Oh my God.” She coughed, setting the cup down hard. “That tastes like rat piss.”
A few gasps rippled through the crowd. One woman actually laughed.
My face went hot. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “This is disgusting. And you’re out here making unsubstantiated health claims about a product that tastes like you poured acid over lettuce. Gross.”
I glared at her. “You have poor taste. Maybe you should stick with what you know.” I looked her up and down, doing my best to appear disgusted, but fuck me, those curves were fine. “I bet you’re a blast at parties.”
She smirked, apparently unbothered by my lame attempt to insult her.
I had grown up in a house full of brothers. That had armed me with a million jokes and insults I could toss out without hesitation. But I wasn’t going to get into that game with her. My drinks were good and they worked. Customers almost never asked for a refund.
She turned to address the crowd. I realized with growing horror that she was about to torch my entire booth.
“Ladies and the very few gentlemen, don’t waste your money on this.
If you want something that’s actually been tested and proven by experts, check out the Young at Heart booth.
They have real credentials and real results. ”
“Are you serious right now?” I stepped around the table. “You can’t just come to my booth and sabotage me. Who the hell are you? There’s a code and you’re violating every fucking rule.”
“You mean the code of telling the truth?” She met my eyes without flinching. “Screw your grifter code. I’m a truth-teller.”
Then she turned on her heel and walked away, her heels clicking against the concrete floor with infuriating confidence.
I stared after her, my mouth hanging open.
“Dude.” Toby appeared at my side, eyes wide. “What the hell just happened?”
“I have no idea.”
I should have been pissed. She’d just trashed my product in front of potential customers. She’d called my smoothie rat piss, for God’s sake.
But as I watched her disappear into the crowd, hips swaying seductively, I felt something else entirely.
Intrigue.
No one talked to me like that. Ever. Women usually melted when I smiled at them. Men either wanted to be my friend or compete with me. But this chick had looked at me like I was just another con artist. She hadn’t been impressed by my face or my pitch.
Toby raised his phone, still recording. “Dude, I got the whole thing on video. Should I upload this to our socials? The engagement would be insane.”
I shook my head, still staring after her retreating figure. “No. Send it to me privately. Don’t post a damn thing.”
He lowered the phone, eyebrows lifting. “You sure? That was some serious drama. Could get us views. People love that kind of thing. They’ll want the tea.”
“I’m sure.” I turned to him as irritation simmered. “And do some research on these Young at Heart people. Find out everything you can about the company. Who the fuck was that woman? If they want to get involved in my business, maybe I’ll get involved in theirs.”
Toby nodded, already tapping at his screen. “Got it, man. I’ll pull up their site and whatever else I can find.”
I crossed my arms, replaying her words in my head. The nerve of that woman. But beneath the fresh bruise to my ego, curiosity stirred. Who was she exactly, and why did she hate my product enough to march over and trash it in public? I needed answers before I decided on my next move.
And there would be a next move. She didn’t know me.
But she would.