Sleepless In Manhattan. Sarah Morgan
“Start our own business.”
“Are you serious? I assumed you and Jake were having one of your fights.”
“I’m serious. We have skills. We’re good at what we do.”
“Cynthia didn’t think so.” Eva slumped on the cushion and Paige felt a rush of anger.
“Don’t let her do that to you. We’re not going to let her knock our confidence.”
“All right, but I don’t think I can run a business, Paige.” Eva looked doubtful. “I can ice the perfect wedding cake and make good pastry. I’m a decent writer and people seem to like my blog, but strategy doesn’t interest me and spreadsheets make my head ache.”
“I’ll do that part. Your natural ability to create delicious food is your special gift. You invent new dishes every day of the week and you’re wonderful with people. Customers love you. No one soothes a tense situation better than you do.”
Frankie rocked back on her heels and wiped the soil from her fingers. “None of us has any experience running a business.”
“I’ll learn that part.” Her mind was racing. She had contacts; she was capable. She did her job well for other people; why not for herself? “We’d have control. We’d get to decide who we work for. It would be fun.”
“It would be risky.” Matt’s expression was serious. “One of the main reasons companies fail is because they don’t think about their customer or their competition. The city is full of event planners.”
“So we need to be different. Better. Clients like the personal touch. If you’re super wealthy, you expect good service. Star Events operated within rigid lines, but what if we don’t? What if, as well as organizing your event, we’re happy to handle all the little things that are clogging up your day? Cynthia moaned, but customers loved the fact that we always went that extra mile. We don’t only organize their event, we’re there for everything, from dry-cleaning your silk tie to cat sitting.”
Eva eyed Claws. “I don’t have a talent for cat sitting. And how are we going to offer all that when there are only three of us?”
“We can outsource. Have preferred vendors. We’re not trying to fund a huge bloated company with staff like Cynthia, who take a salary but do nothing to bring in business. We’ll keep it lean. We’re not the only ones who lost our jobs. There are plenty of people who would be happy to freelance for us.” Her mind was racing, leaping over hurdles and looking for possibilities and solutions. “Look at this another way. What do we have? What are we good at? We’re organized and we have great contacts. We know every hot venue in town—clubs, bars, restaurants. We know how to get the best tickets for the best events. We know how to manage things when everything goes wrong. We’re brilliant at multitasking and we’re friendly and hardworking. What is the one thing most people in Manhattan don’t have?”
Eva reached for her sweater. “You mean apart from a sex life?”
Jake smiled. “Speak for yourself.”
Paige ignored him. “Time. They don’t have time. People have too much to do and no time to do it in and the stress of it stops them from enjoying every part of their life. Everyone wants forty-eight-hour days because twenty-four isn’t enough. That’s what we’re going to fix. We are going to be the people who give them hours back in their day.”
Frankie adjusted her glasses. “I can’t see corporations employing us. We’d be too small.”
“Small can be good. Small makes us nimble and responsive. Doesn’t mean we can’t be as professional as a large company with offices in Los Angeles.”
“It might work.” Frankie stood up, for once forgetting the plants. “How would we build a client base? Advertising would cost a fortune.”
“We do what we already do. We go out and find them. Pitch. And then we do a brilliant job with their event, we turn their stressed, manic lives into peaceful order and they tell their friends.”
“And if we’re successful, our peaceful lives will become stressed and manic.” Eva’s blue eyes shone, but this time with excitement rather than tears. “I’m in.”
“Me, too.” Frankie nodded. “I’m sick of working for a bullying boss and having no control. Where do we start? How long until we can bring in some money?”
The question made it all scarily real and doused the excitement like water on flame.
Paige swallowed.
Her insides quailed. The theory was one thing, the practice was another.
What if she couldn’t make it work? This time she’d be the one letting her friends down, not Star Events.
“If you’re really going to do this,” Matt said, “you could start by asking for advice.”
Paige shook her head. “Thanks, but I want to do this on my own.”
Jake locked his hands behind his head, watching her from under his lashes. “Paige the pigheaded. Do you want to know how many start-ups I’ve seen fail in the last few years?”
“No. And you were the one who told me to start my own business.”
“I didn’t tell you to go off like a child in a toy shop with no sense of direction. You need to think about what you’re doing. Ask for advice.”
“I have a clear sense of direction.” How could you find someone attractive and want to hit them at the same time? “I’ll ask the advice of people who understand the business, like Eva and Frankie.”
“Yeah, that’s smart. Ask your friends. Because they’re sure to tell you the truth.” Jake drained his beer. “When you’re thinking of setting up a business you don’t want the opinion of your friends. You want people who are going to tell you what’s wrong with your idea so you can fix it. It’s going to be a tough grind and you need to be prepared for that. You need to be challenged. If you can defend yourself, then maybe, maybe, your ideas are robust.”
Paige felt a rush of frustration. Needing space, she turned and walked to the edge of the terrace, away from them all.
Damn, damn.
Why did she always get emotional around him?
And what if she was being too ambitious thinking that she could start up her own business?
What if she failed?
She heard soft prowling footsteps behind her.
“I’m sorry.” Jake’s voice was low. He was standing close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek.
Desire shot through her. For a moment she thought he was going to put his arms around her and she closed her eyes, holding her breath.
He was not going to touch her.
He never touched her. Not anymore.
It was agonizing to find someone so attractive physically when they didn’t feel the same way.
It was rare that they found themselves alone together. Not that they were exactly alone, but for some reason it felt that way as they stood, sheltered by the soft sway of the trees, while conversation drifted on the breeze from the far side of the terrace.
He didn’t touch her. Instead, he stood next to her, staring across the water toward Manhattan.
Paige let her breath out slowly. “Tell me what’s wrong with my idea. I want to know.”
He turned his head to look at her, and the atmosphere on the terrace suddenly felt tight and intimate.
“You need to think hard about your market, your customers and exactly what it is you’re offering. Matt’s right. Your customers are the most important thing. More important than how you structure the company, than