Chapter 2
two
“You’re mad,” Ava said as she started the car.
I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I pulled my phone out of my bag and sent Seth a quick text to let him know that I’d accidentally, maybe a little on purpose, shared the app during the presentation. “Yes,” I said as I shoved my phone under my leg.
“Yes, you’re mad, or YES! that pitch was epic, Ava, thanks for landing us a new client?”
“Neither,” I said, shaking my head, “both—all of the above. I don’t know. What the heck are you thinking Ava?”
“I was thinking we’d lost them until you launched into the bit on the app, which I thought we’d decided not to mention. That whole thing about being worried your brother would get in trouble for breaking his NDA with Take the Leap?”
“I took a leap,” I said with a sheepish grin. “I just sent him a text to give him a heads up.” Seth was going to be pissed, but he’d understand. He’d shown me the app because he knew we were desperate to sign a new client. I also signed a non-disclosure agreement when I agreed to beta-test the app for him. Thankfully, showing my results to the company the app was for didn’t violate anything.
“So, did I. And to be fair, I didn’t expect Tripp to suggest you be the guinea pig in the campaign.”
“You kind of did, though.”
Ava sighed. “I mean, maybe? I just said someone like you.”
“While laying out the perfect case for me to be the someone.”
“I kind of felt like you’d already done that by sharing your results. You abandoned the backup plan. I just jumped in to finish the pitch. You know how much we need this business.”
She was right, of course. We needed Take The Leap. She’d done exactly what she’d needed to do to keep us in the mix, and it had paid off.
When we arrived at our home-office space in Berry Hill, a small neighborhood in South Nashville, I sulked out of the car and straight into the house. We’d bought the house with the intention of using it fully for our business. Her dad, a real estate developer, had originally purchased the home in foreclosure, so we’d gotten it for a great price. But neither of us had expected the cost of running our own company to make it nearly impossible for us to pay rent on our apartment and a mortgage on the business. Luckily, the layout of the four-bedroom house worked perfectly for two single women running a small business. Downstairs, the main living area also hosted our two offices. The dining room served as our one meeting space, and the kitchen offered a break room and a space to prepare snacks and refreshments for any clients we hosted. In the living room, we’d created a welcoming area for clients complete with a massive television that looped our highlight reel, and plush furniture. Our bedrooms and personal space were upstairs. Ava’s dad helped us add a door to the stairs to keep curious clients from entering our personal lives.
I threw the tote bag holding my laptop and purse on the couch and headed straight into the kitchen. Before we left this morning, I’d set the timer on the coffee pot to brew us a fresh pot to have ready when we returned from the meeting. Without thinking, I pulled out two mugs and made a cup for both of us—a splash of cream and no sugar for Ava, and a lot of cream and sugar for me.I handed her the mug and sulked back into my office.
Booting up my laptop, I ignored the sound of Ava pacing the floral rug behind me. While everything loaded, I straightened the papers on my desk. Not that they were messy, but a few corners were slightly askew. I kept a tidy office and house. I’d developed an impressive filing system for Savie that Ava both respected and avoided. Despite her love for statistics, she preferred chaos. The only reason our office was presentable for client meetings was because of me. I’d never met a vacuum or mop I didn’t befriend.
I wanted to be mad at her. I wanted to yell at her and question her sanity, but I knew she was right. The idea she proposed was the best one we’d had—better than any of the ones we’d brainstormed ahead of the pitch. Compared to the original proposal we’d come up with, it was downright genius. It was the kind of campaign that would put us back on the map. I hated to admit it, but the entire ride home I’d mapped out the entire plan. I just needed to stew for a few more minutes before I shared this with Ava.
“Are you going to ignore me for the rest of the day?” Ava pouted.
“I want to, but no. Sit down before you wear a hole in my rug.” Ava sat in the chair I kept next to my desk. “We need to set some parameters if we’re going to do this.”
“Oh, we’re doing this.” She held up her phone and showed me the email that had just come through from our lawyer. “I had Amanda bump the retainer to cover the cost of putting you front and center on the campaign.” Amanda was Ava’s cousin and our lawyer. She gave us a fantastic family discount, and in turn, referred her new business when we could.
“Tripp’s lawyers are reviewing the contract and adding in the unique language to capture the full scope of this project. Hopefully, we can get the contract executed this month and have the first month’s retainer in the bank before …” Ava trailed off. She didn’t have to finish the sentence. We needed that money to come in before we bounced checks for the bills we couldn’t afford to pay.
It took less than a week for the contract to come back. The next Tuesday morning, I opened my email to find the contract in an email from Amanda. I skimmed through the contract. When I got to the addendums Take the Leap had added, I gasped. “Did you see addendum C?”
Ava shook her head and peered over my shoulder the read the section. “Oh.”
I propped my elbow on the desk and rested my chin in my hand. None of this should’ve been a surprise. I’d been on the back-and-forth emails going through the requirements, but seeing things this plainly written in a contract suddenly made it all feel too real.
“Amanda agreed to this change?” In the event Sadie Barnes does not complete the Take the Leap Challenge as outlined in section five, Savie agrees to void the contract and refund TTL 75% of the retainer paid to the date of incompletion . “So, if I don’t jump out of a plane, we’re going to end up paying them for months of work? No.”
“Sadie, we both already agreed to this,” Ava said. “They originally wanted a full refund, remember. We negotiated them back to 75%.”
I turned my attention back to the contract and section five. The Take the Leap Challenge, as Tripp had named it, consisted of a minimum of six adventures. The first five would be determined with the help of Tripp, the app, and the partners of Savie (Ava and me), but the final challenge was outlined in bold letters. Tandem Skydiving . They’d even written in Tripp James and Sadie Barnes as the two parties required. I was going to be contractually obligated to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. Was that even legal?
I didn’t even want to be a passenger on an airplane, let alone leap out of one. I drove everywhere. I hated flying. The few times I’d done it, I’d required a heavy dose of Benadryl or alcohol to keep my anxiety in check. In other words, I knocked myself out.
The blond brat in the meeting had been correct in calling me a scaredy cat. I was quite literally scared of almost everything. I don’t pass cars on two-lane roads. I don’t drive excessively fast. I don’t try new foods or drinks. I know what I like, and I don’t want to test the waters. I don’t do dating apps or dating in general—falling in love is far too risky. Anything other than eating, sleeping, breathing, and flowing through my normal routine wasn’t worth the risk of something bad or catastrophic happening. I found joy in things like getting lost in the fictional worlds of fantasy and romance novels or television shows and movies. Fiction was far better than reality.
“I know,” I said, “and keeping 25% is better than nothing, but it still feels drastic.”
“They’re taking a chance on us. Or so Tripp James claims. We’re unproven when it comes to campaigns like this for companies of their size.”
“Isn’t their whole business model about taking risks?”
“Apparently, that doesn’t apply to their finances.”
“So, either I agree to skydive with him, or we lose the contract?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“And if we don’t sign Take the Leap or another client this month, we’re screwed.”
Ava didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. She leaned against the door frame and studied me for a moment before speaking. “I know this is asking a lot of you, but Sadie, what if this turns out to be a good thing? You’re always saying you need to get out of your comfort zone and try something new.”
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. She was right. My therapist had recommended some exposure response therapy to help me conquer some of my smaller fears—especially the ones that impacted my day-to-day life. “Sure, when it comes to ordering a new meal at a restaurant or changing my drink order. Not this .”
“But maybe you try some cool new stuff with Tripp James, who, by the way, isn’t a bad guy to be forced to spend time with, and, I don’t know, have fun?”
I knew what she was hinting at. But another fun fact about me—I don’t date. Or, at least not in the traditional sense. I’d gone to dinner or drinks with members of the opposite sex on occasion. Usually when Ava or Seth decide they’ve met the one person on the planet who might break through my walls. They were almost always wrong. But I’d humor them and play along for a night or a few weeks, then I’d list all the reasons it wouldn’t work and end things before either of us got too attached. I wasn’t the type of girl who daydreamed about meeting a prince on a white horse and having the perfect wedding and the perfect house with the perfect kids and the picket fence. This small house that I shared with my best friend and our business was all I needed. I didn’t need a man or anyone to come along and disturb the status quo that served me well. Besides, I’d heard enough dating horror stories from Ava and all the blind dates her mom had set her up on over the years.
“Fun?” I asked. “That’s highly improbable.”
“More improbable than a freak accident happening while you try something new?” she asked.
“Yes. It won’t be fun. It will be terrifying. And best-case scenario, I don’t die. I can assure you, that even if I survive, I will not have fun. I will hate every second of it and you’ll owe me big time.”
“Are you saying yes?”
I click on the electronic signature request for the contract and type in my name. I don’t know what comes over me as I do it, but a surge of energy explodes inside my body. The thing is, I love our business. Working alongside Ava has been the most rewarding and fulfilling work of my life and the thought of losing that scares me so much more than the thought of jumping out of a plane while strapped to Tripp James.
“No, I’m not saying yes. I’m saying, I’ll do this, but I am doing it for us and Savie and because I don’t want us to fail. I’m also expensing all the alcohol I’m going to need to consume before I do any of these insane challenges.” I was mostly joking. Company-sponsored alcoholism wouldn’t be a good look for Savie or me.
Ava squealed and ran to her office. An email confirming all parties had signed the contract pinged into my inbox less than a minute later. She ran back into my office with a bottle of champagne.
“Let’s start those drinks now!” She popped the top and a shower of champagne splashed onto my face.
“For the record, I hate this, and I hate you.” I threw back the rest of my coffee and held the mug out for her to fill.