Ping!
My computer sounds the second I cross the threshold into my room. It must be a message from a prospective customer. Excellent.
I jump in front of my computer and crack my knuckles, getting ready to respond, but my eyes widen the second I see who sent the message: Bruce Lockhart? Isn’t that the super-rich billionaire CEO of Lockhart Industries? Even I’ve heard of him, even though I don’t follow mainstream news that much. Can it be the same person? I do a quick Google search.
Holy shit.
The man that pops up is sexy as hell. I mean, really, he’s breathtaking. Tall. Muscular. Dark hair gelled back and styled in a sosphicated manner. He’s the kind of guy you find on the cover of GQ with a sports coat draped over his shoulder while he’s giving you bedroom eyes. And boy, does this guy have amazing bedroom eyes! They’re electric blue with a devilish sparkle. I get lost in their depths within seconds, my heart beating so fast that I’m scared it’s going to explode.
I fan my face, my cheeks becoming red.
Breathe, Katie, breathe, I tell myself before I swoon over this stranger. Sure, he’s hot, but I shouldn’t let that affect how I run my business. He’s a paying customer, just like everyone else.
Taking a deep breath, I switch tabs and click on his message.
Hello,
Let me start by introducing myself. I’m Bruce Lockhart, the head of Lockhart Industries. I recently stumbled upon your website and would be interested in discussing your business. Are you potentially seeking a buyer?
Perhaps it would be best to meet in person, given the sensitive nature of your work. I’m based in Los Angeles. Would you be open to meeting here? Of course, I’ll take care of all expenses after your arrival.
Can you make it next Tuesday?
Best,
BL
I blink, rereading the message over again before I suddenly snap into action. I jump out of my chair and run into the living room, screaming with excitement.
My mother, who’s emerged from her stupor, is now laid out on the sofa, drinking beer and watching Jeopardy.
“Mom!”
She jumps, spilling some of her booze onto her blouse. “Damnit!”
“Mom, forget about the beer! This is huge,” I exclaim, too excited to sit down. I circle around the coffee table, trying to get my thoughts into working order.
“What on earth has gotten into you, Katie Kat?”
“Mom! I’ve just been asked to meet with a financing company in Los Angeles!”
She furrows her brow in confusion. “Financing company? What’s that?”
I huff with excitement.
“Long story short: they play with the stock market and make a ton of money and then use that money to buy out various entertainment companies around the country to make an even bigger profit. It’s sheer genius.”
“I see.” She takes another sip of her beer, glancing at the TV screen from time to time.
“Mom!” I scream. “This is no time for Jeopardy! Do you know what this means?” I don’t even let her answer. “I’m pretty sure that he wants to buy my panties business or something like that! It must be! Mom, I might just get rich from this!”
At the word ‘rich,’ my mom hops up, and we start to jump up and down, screaming with excitement. Of course, Meredith is always on board as long as money is involved. She probably thinks that I’ll pay all of the bills and let her take it easy. Not that she’s taken much on herself, but at least then she can relax about the bills. And Meredith’s probably right. After all, when this is all said and done, I’ll have more than enough money to spare.
With excitement coursing through my veins, I run back to my room to answer the message.
Hi Mr. Lockhart,
Thank you for your message. I can definitely make it on Tuesday! Please send me the details.
Katie James
I hit the ‘send’ button without even thinking. Only afterward do I curse my rashness. What kind of response was that? Thank you for your message? That sounds so robotic. I’m already getting off on the wrong foot with this guy. Shit. Not to mention the “I can definitely make it on Tuesday!” Why’d I have to end that with an exclamation point? It makes me look way too excited and juvenile. Damnit.
Before I can fret about it for too long, there’s another ping!
I jump, nearly falling out of my chair.
It’s another message!
Great. Please give me a call. (800) 897-7802
BL
I gulp. My palms are sweaty. Call? I haven’t made an actual phone call since middle school. Who still calls people, anyways? It’s the twenty-first century. Everyone does everything online.
Apparently not Bruce Lockhart.
Then again, it might be nice to hear his voice. I bet it’s sexy as hell, all husky and deep. Just thinking about it causes goosebumps to prickle along my skin. Mmm, to hear that voice whispering dirty things into my ear… Now, wouldn’t that be something?
