Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
That was another thing Dad had taught me: there was always something to connect with people about. I could have as many Porsches, Ferraris, and custom suits as I wanted, but if I couldn’t find common ground with my clients, I’d be useless. I always found something to talk about with anyone, and something to like even in people who seemed completely different from me.
Getting along with people was my biggest pride.
“So,” Shawn said. “The Racks deal.”
I felt a slight smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “The Racks deal,” I repeated.
This was the whole reason I was meeting with Fixer Brothers Construction today: to discuss the massive brand deal we had in the works with Racks, the most prominent home goods store in the country. The Fixer Brothers TV show had just gotten renewed for another three upcoming seasons, right after I’d started working with them, and through working with me and Lux Marketing, they were set to expand their empire into selling crafted home goods.
Good, great, and excellent.
Some people in my firm called me a marketing bloodhound, but in reality, when I worked with companies to take their brand into the stratosphere, I felt more like I was playing chess.
If chess was… thrilling.
If chess could make me feel like I had 180-proof moonshine flooding through my veins.
I was hungry for it. If this brand deal worked out with Fixer Brothers and Racks home stores, I was on track to my spot as a partner in Lux Marketing. What I’d been on track to achieve for the last ten years, finally coming to fruition.
So close I could fucking taste it.
Shawn shifted on the booth awkwardly, looking up at me. He rubbed at a small scuff in the wood on the tabletop, and I could tell was a little doubtful about the Racks deal.
“What’s on your mind, Shawn?” I asked gently.
He took a breath. “Well, I was thinking about it all week.”
“And what did you think?”
“Well… do you really see us in Racks stores? Doesn’t it seem like a stretch?” Shawn finally asked. “I know other home renovation shows have branched into selling home decor, but we’re… not exactly at the Fixer Upper level of fame.”
I nodded. I’d encountered this before—people didn’t always believe they were worthy of more success, but I was here to let them know they were more than deserving of it.
“Shawn,” I told him, “The Fixer Brothers can be at that level of fame or more by the end of the next two years, and I’m certain of that.”
I was met with dubious looks from both him and Nathan.
“You’re too kind to us, Emmett,” Nathan said. “But we’ve only had our renovation show for a few seasons. You think people want to buy wall decorations and pillows and paint colors with our brand name on it?”
“I think they’d buy a lot more than that,” I said. “Some of the market research and data work we’ve done shows that people love your personalities on the TV show most—”
Nathan nodded. “As expected.”
I held up a finger. “But the second most popular thing is the style of decor in all of your renovations. Indoor and outdoor things, including small furniture and lighting and everything in between. People constantly search for it online. There’s true potential in that, I promise.”
Shawn nodded, pulling in a long breath. “Well, cheers to that. If you believe in us, I’m willing to give it a shot. Just don’t want to disappoint you if Racks Superstores don’t go ahead with us.”
“I’m going to work my ass off to make sure they do,” I reassured him.
We all held up our pint glasses, clinking them together before taking a sip. I hummed involuntarily when the fall ale hit my tongue.
“Good, isn’t it?” Shawn said.
“That might be one of the best beers I’ve ever tasted,” I said.
It wasn’t a lie. The beer had the slightest hint of apple and clove in it, just enough to evoke everything autumn without overpowering the yeast and hops.
“You like it?” Harlan, the burly, lumberjack-looking head brewer called out from across the room.
“You’re an artist,” I called back over to him, holding up the beer glass.
Harlan came over to our table, dipping low and dropping his voice. “The secret ingredient? Just a little bit of allspice.”
I gave Harlan a high-five. “Called it. I knew it was allspice.”
“Cheers to that, too,” Shawn said, and we all clinked our glasses again as Harlan walked off, chuckling.
“I like your ambition, Emmett,” Shawn continued. “But I know we’re still the underdogs. The last major Racks brand deal was with Taylor Swift. Now, I think we’re cute enough and all, but we ain’t Taylor, in fame levels or anything else.”
I gave him a nod. “Well, once we get you this brand deal, you’ll have Taylor herself calling you up to ask for invites to your parties.”