The audience gave a little titter and the corner of my mouth twitched.
“In addition to its questionable flavor, Carmex gets hard when it’s cold outside and it won’t squeeze from the bottle. So to combat this problem while wearing her pocketless clothes, my sister would put it in her bra to keep it warm. Unfortunately, you could see the pokey end of the tube through her shirt. Not sexy.” He clicked to a picture of me. Eighteen years old in gloves and a hat smiling in the driveway, with a red arrow pointing to my boob, where the end of my Carmex poked out.
“This gave me an idea,” he went on. “What if we made a lip balm that doesn’t taste like shit? Formulated to soften with the heat from your body. It’s got a soft tube so it lays flat on your skin and you can’t see it through your clothes. All natural, organic, sustainable ingredients with SPF. And the tube is biodegradable with a seed in it, so if you bury it, it breaks down and then grows a flower. Giftable, Earth friendly, edgy, super millennial.” He clicked to a picture of a tube of lip balm. “Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you BoobStick.”
Joel was walking around with a tray, placing prototypes in front of us. I picked one up and turned it around in my fingers.
It was cute. Instagramable cute. Pink with a delicate teal floral filigree on the front.
Everyone started taking off the caps and trying it. I put some on my lips and licked it. It tasted like guava. It tasted good. Really good.
Brent went on. “In front of you are sales forecasts and return projections, a market analysis, and full marketing, manufacturing, and operational plans. As you can see, our production costs are low and we feel due to the novelty nature of the product, we can sell it at a higher price point than comp items. Our website is already up and functional.” He clicked through to a professional-looking website that matched the artwork on the lip balm.
“We offer different flavors. We roll out additional products over the next eighteen months. Hand creams, bath bombs. We offer a gender-neutral DipStick on a rope, perfect for the active customer who doesn’t have pockets or bras.” He winked at Drake. “We target retailers like Anthropologie, Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods. We launch the brand at Drake’s next sporting event as welcome gifts in the guest rooms, where we can get the product in front of a VIP list of influencers.”
I opened the professional-looking packet in front of me and flipped through the graphs and numbers. This was not Brent’s MO at all. He was always so instant gratification when it came to his business pursuits, but this? This must have taken him months. Longer. All this work…
“This is amazing,” I breathed, looking up at him.
He broke into a grin.
“No, I’m serious, Brent. This is incredible. You thought this up? You put all this together by yourself?”
He smiled. “I did. You sent me to business school, remember? You just didn’t think I was paying attention.”
I laughed and looked down at the tube of lip balm. I would buy this. It was like something you’d see by the register at Sephora.
“I had some help with the graphic design,” Brent said. “Annabel did it, actually. You know. Before.”
I looked up at him. “Annabel did this?”
“All her. The website too. She’s good at it. And I got the idea for the seed from Dad. Remember that time a Chia Pet broke in the living room and he just left it there and the carpet started growing a lawn?”
I snorted. “God, yes.”
“Oh, and my first investor is someone you know,” he said. “I hope you’re not mad. I asked him not to tell you. Adrian gave me a small loan for the materials for the pitch meeting.”
My heart did a little flutter. “He did?”
Brent nodded. “I pitched him at the hospital in the men’s room.”
My face fell. “Ugh, are you serious?”
“He wasn’t mad,” he said quickly. “He agreed to let me send him my business plan. He liked it. He sent me the money the next day. Also, I heard you talk about the spider thing.” He sucked air through his teeth. “I’m sorry. That’s super weird he didn’t kiss you back. Joel and I both thought he was into you.”
I scoffed. “Wouldn’t be the first time this week I’ve misjudged a situation,” I mumbled, looking at the packet again.
Brent took another step toward me. “Vanessa, Adrian believes in this. So does Drake.”
I didn’t blame them. I believed in this too.
I nodded. “My answer is yes. I’ll give you as much as you need.”
Brent yelped and Joel crashed into him. They hugged and hooted, spinning around the restaurant.
Drake tipped his head at me. “You can’t give him all of it. What about me? I want to invest too.”
I shook my head, watching Brent and Joel celebrate. “I’m surprised you even let him pitch me. You could have just backed him and had the whole thing to yourself.”
Drake laughed good-naturedly. “I wanted to. I offered it. But it was important to him that you do it.”
I wrinkled my forehead. “Me? Why? I don’t think he cares as long as he gets his money.”
Drake looked amused. “He wants your approval, Vanessa. He wants you to be proud of him. He wants that more than anything. More than the money.”
My smile fell a little.
Did he?
Brent looked over his shoulder at me. His smile was enormous.
Maybe he did want my approval. I couldn’t imagine Dad’s meant much to him.
And I was proud of him. So, so proud. And I decided right there in that moment that I’d always make sure he knew that, as long as I was around to do it.
CHAPTER 21
THE ULTIMATE GUIDE TO ESCAPING THE FRIEND ZONE
ADRIAN
When Vanessa texted that she’d be back in five minutes, it was a full hour later than she said she’d be home. I’d been through a symphony of emotions over the last four hours, none of them good. I’d landed solidly on bad mood and wasn’t planning on changing.
I was hurt that Vanessa said she regretted kissing me and that it was a mistake. I was pissed that she didn’t tell me about Drake. I was jealous, frustrated, and scared I was going to lose her to this guy.
The fucking medicine-woman swaddling…
Grace seemed to like it. I don’t know why this pissed me off more than anything else that had happened today, but it did.
Grace smelled like him—I had to give her a bath. She smelled like incense.
I was at the dining room table on my laptop with a baby monitor next to me trying to get through emails when Vanessa finally let herself into my apartment. I had Harry next to the table in his little dog bed and he raised his head at the sound of her coming in and growled like he was mad at her too.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, closing the door behind her. “There was a mob outside the restaurant. I had to autograph, like, two hundred sponges. And I think someone cut a piece of my hair off…”
I didn’t look up at her. “I changed her diaper about an hour ago. She was a little fussy. I gave her some gas drops and she seems fine now. She’s in the playpen in the office, sleeping.”
Then I slid my chair out, got up, and went to the bar.