Page 15 of February (New Orleans #2)

“H ey, why did you run off like that?” Bridgette asked.

“I didn’t run off,” Monica said as she lifted her head to look at Bridgette, who was standing in the open doorway of the conference room, holding a cup of coffee.

“Uh… Yeah, you did. You left a half-eaten bowl of grits, untouched eggs, and a bowl of fruit that only I had touched. I couldn’t finish your coffee because I can’t stand soy milk, but I tried to at least make it so the chef in the back wouldn’t think you hated their cooking for you.”

“How did you–” Monica stopped.

“How did I what?”

“Know it was soy milk.”

“I’ve been with you when you ordered coffee before. I pay attention. Don’t change the subject.” Bridgette closed the door behind her. “What happened, Monica?”

“Nothing. I just had to call Lily.”

“You couldn’t wait, like, five minutes? You had to run out of there like a weirdo, leaving me to deal with Toya, who was wondering what happened?”

“She’s your ex-girlfriend,” Monica replied. “Was I supposed to deal with her?”

Bridgette sat down across from her and said, “Toya and I… It’s complicated.”

“It always is with us lesbians, isn’t it?” Monica started typing on her laptop.

“Are you busy right now? Should I leave you to buy someone else’s company?”

“What? No, I’m replying to an email.”

“And you can’t look me in the eye and reply to that email later?”

Monica stopped typing and closed her laptop.

“Thank you,” Bridgette said.

“I don’t need your relationship backstory, Bridgette. I’m sorry I had to leave abruptly like that, but I didn’t want to intrude on whatever was happening between you two.”

“Nothing,” she replied quickly. “Nothing is happening between me and her. She goes there for coffee sometimes. New Orleans is like that: you can go a year without seeing someone and then bump into them ten times in a month. I refused to change some of my regular places when we broke up, so there’s always going to be a chance we bump into each other, but that’s all that happened this morning.”

“That’s between the two of you. You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” Monica told her.

Bridgette nodded and said, “This is for you. I’ll leave you alone to send that email now. I hope the call with your ex went okay.” She placed the cup of coffee a little closer to Monica on the table.

“You brought me coffee?”

“You left yours there. It looked like you’d taken one sip, so I thought you might need the caffeine. Caramel, right?”

“Yeah,” Monica said with a soft smile. “And I’m sorry, Bridgette. I think the headache from going out last night is really starting to get to me.”

“Drink the coffee. I’ll bring you some water from the break room,” Bridgette said.

“I have a bottle in my bag.”

“The bag that could fit this entire building inside it?”

Monica laughed, so Bridgette thought they were maybe back to whatever their version of normal was.

“Yes, that very bag,” Monica replied. “I was thinking about stealing the copier later, and it’ll fit quite nicely.”

“Well, we probably don’t need it for long, anyway, so I say go for it.”

Monica sobered and asked, “Why is it complicated between you two if it’s over?”

Bridgette hadn’t been expecting that question, so she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“Honestly, I’ve been kind of lost since the breakup. I started going after things I didn’t really want or need, hoping they would help me get over her.”

“Things you didn’t want?”

“Casual sex, one-night stands, or at least, hot make-out sessions in bars.”

“I see.”

Bridgette laughed and said, “You do, do you?”

“Ha-ha,” Monica deadpanned.

“I didn’t, by the way.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Have any of those things. I kept chickening out, which was probably a good thing. One day recently, though, I was pissed about the business being sold off, and I realized I wanted closure, so I called her.”

“Oh, big mistake.” Monica leaned in.

“You know, I thought so at first, but I actually think it was what I needed.”

“How so?”

“Toya didn’t want a relationship. It wasn’t about me. I guess part of it was because I did – I do want a relationship. I was getting more serious than she was ready for, so it ended, but on the call, she said that if I could be not as serious and it could just be fun, she missed me.”

“What a bitch,” Monica replied.

Bridgette laughed a little and shared, “We hooked up.”

Monica’s face fell, and she said, “Oh?”

“It happened twice, but the whole time, I wasn’t thinking that I wanted more from her again.”

“That’s good, right? She didn’t want a relationship, anyway.”

“And I didn’t want sex from her, either.”

“That bad?”

“No, it was good with us. I mean, I thought it was, but in our time apart, I thought about that and how it worked for me, but it wasn’t really what I wanted . I know that now, though, so I ended that part of our relationship, too.”

“So, that’s it? You’re over her?”

“I think I have been for a while. I just didn’t realize it. Toya is not a bad person. She’s just young and doesn’t want to settle down, but I do . I want real love, you know? Someone to come home to at the end of the day, wake up next to, and yes, have amazing sex with.”

Monica smiled but didn’t say anything.

“I just watched my best friend meet her girlfriend, and I don’t know what’s in store for them, but it seems so real. Kyle moved to New Orleans because she likes it here, but it didn’t hurt that Melinda lives here, too. They spend practically every night together, and even when I’ve been in a relationship, I haven’t wanted to spend all of my time with my girlfriend. I’m jealous. I want that.”

“That sounds nice, Bridge.”

“Toya said hello. We talked for two minutes before she left, and I sat at the table alone, finishing your breakfast.”

“Were the grits just as good after a few minutes?”

“Yes, they were amazing. You should go back and order them again so you can see for yourself.”

“Maybe I will,” Monica replied.

“Well, okay. That’s good, then. I should leave you to that email.”

“I didn’t have to call my ex, Bridgette.”

Bridgette looked at her, confused.

“I felt awkward, being there. When you said her name, I remembered that she was your ex, and I had no idea if it was going to get awkward, so I fled.”

Bridgette chuckled and asked, “So, you didn’t call your ex back?”

“God, no,” Monica said. “She’s just angry. She’ll calm down. Aaron is going to be here tomorrow. He’s eighteen, so she can’t really stop him. He still lives with her, but even if she got so angry with him as to kick him out, he knows he always has a room at my place.”

“I say let her stew, then,” Bridgette offered.

“I think that’s good advice.”

Bridgette then heard the main door to the office open. It was probably just Dan or one of the other employees, but it had her thinking about another thing she wanted to talk to Monica about.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Are you going to recommend buying this place to your dad? If so, is this purchase going to take care of them? Will they be okay?”

Monica softened and said, “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I don’t know yet. That’s my honest answer.”

“Oh,” Bridgette let out when she didn’t get the reassurance she’d been hoping for. “That’s okay.”

“After looking over everything, I do have some questions for you, though, if you’re finally ready to answer them.”

“What about all those emails you need to reply to?”

“They’ll keep,” Monica said with a smile.

“Okay. Ask away, then.”

“Southern Hospitality only sells local. Why is that?”

“You didn’t ask my parents that question?”

“I did, but I wanted your answer, too.”

“Uh… Well, my parents are a little old-school, and they like the idea of having their cards sold locally to make them special. You have to come down here to buy them.”

“But there are a ton of local-only items in New Orleans that distribute. I was reading an article about Hubig’s Pies the other day. You used to only be able to get them down here, but they ship now.”

“They were gone for a while. Fire in their facility put them out of business, but they rebounded, and yeah, they ship.”

“And there are these chips and an ice cream, I think.”

“Are you hungry? You’re only mentioning food items.”

“ You ate my breakfast.”

“Do you like blueberries?”

“Huh?” Monica asked.

Instead of answering, Bridgette stood up, opened the door to be able to walk to her desk, grabbed the brown bag, and brought it back into the room. She dropped it onto the table.

“You can have my muffin.”

Monica’s eyebrows lifted, and only then did Bridgette really understand what she’d just said.

“The blueberry muffin I got from the café.”

“Thanks.” Monica laughed and opened the bag. “I am starving. Anyway, it’s not just food items. There are a ton of local shops here that ship. I imagine a lot of that happened when Katrina hit and things had to close down.”

“Some, yes,” Bridgette replied. “And more and more do it after each bad storm season. Some no longer have storefronts at all because it wasn’t worth the bother.”

“And your parents aren’t interested?”

“No,” she said with a head shake.

“What about you?”

“Me? Yeah, I’ve told them a million times that I wanted to open an Etsy store and get on Amazon. I wanted to make a breakup card line, a too-drunk-to-go-to-work card line, and other New Orleans-appropriate cards. We don’t have to be reverent down here. The shirts alone, you know?”

“I’ve seen a few of them, yes. Classy,” Monica joked before she took a piece of the muffin and brought it to her lips.

Bridgette laughed and said, “I figured we could stamp them somehow as being from here and by local artists, and sales would pick up.”

Monica nodded and took another bite. Bridgette had to look away, though, because watching Monica’s long fingers with perfectly trimmed nails go to her mouth only made her think about those fingers and that mouth being elsewhere.

“Do you have ideas for those cards already?”

“I have a sketchbook, and I’ve jotted down some notes, yes.”

“So, I have an idea, but it’s not what your parents are going to want to hear.”

“Okay,” Bridgette said, curious, as she leaned forward in her chair.

“Things are this bad because they’ve chosen to remain local. You mentioned storefronts closing, and some of them used to carry your cards. You’ve lost a lot of clients that way, and it’s hard to get new customers with no dedicated sales team. Your parents are doing most of that themselves. On top of that, you’re losing rack space. From what I’ve seen, you’re losing it to the big guys, nothing local, which means that soon, the stores won’t have space for you at all because the big guys give them lower rates, and you’ve been raising yours to combat your losses. That’s why the company is going under.”

Bridgette had asked her parents to tell her what was happening a million times, and they’d always told her that things were fine or slow but would be fine. Sure, they’d been teaching her things about the business, but they hadn’t given her the full picture of where it stood.

“So, what do we do?” she asked.

“There are options, I think. One of them does involve us buying the company and taking the card lines and assets. We can probably find jobs for most of the employees, but I’d want to meet with the ones in the other office before I make any promises. Of course, they’d have to move since they’d be the only remote employees we have at Good Day. We could buy and consider keeping this office as a satellite or the one in Baton Rouge. That would allow the ones we hire to stay on without moving, but I’d need to discuss that with my father. There are a couple of other options, though.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, quite frankly, your parents are making bad business decisions. You’re already overstaffed for what you’re putting out, and they’ve got you doing replenishment runs instead of the office manager they have in Baton Rouge, which means you create fewer cards. They’re also not taking you nationwide or even global. Keeping you offline is a major mistake.”

“I’ve told them that before.”

“I know. They told me.” Monica paused. “Would you consider taking over for them?”

“Yeah, when they retire.”

“No, I mean now.”

“Now?”

“Bridgette, at this rate, the company won’t exist when they’re old enough to retire. If you convince them to let you take it over, you can keep them on staff, if you want, and pay them a salary, but you’d be making the business decisions. Opening an Etsy shop isn’t hard. Neither is selling on Amazon. You’ve only got about six months of runway here before you’re done for good. If you work fast and get cards up online, you’d be able to get back in the black one day, and you’d know if that’s enough before you’re at the end of the runway.”

“This is their business.”

“They were going to leave it to you anyway. I’m only suggesting they do it sooner rather than later. There’s only one other option, and I’m not sure it’s what you’d want.”

“What?”

“Arnette Assets can become an investor.”

“An investor?”

“We’d write up terms that stipulated if you didn’t return the investment by a certain date, we take over from there, or if you’re not in a good enough financial position. Something like that, anyway. Normally, I wouldn’t suggest it since we own a competitor, but my dad has a personal connection to Southern, and now… so do I.”

Bridgette stared at Monica for a moment, trying to understand her meaning, but her mind was too focused on all of the options Monica had just given her.

“Can I think about it?”

“Your parents will make the final call, so it’s really up to them, but yes.”

“I just don’t know how to ask them to give me their company when they’re not done running it yet.”

“They are , though, Bridge. Six months. That’s all this place has left if they remain in charge. Besides, your dad loves the sale, and your mom told me she missed designing cards. You taking over could be a win-win.”

“I’m not sure they’ll see it that way,” Bridgette replied.

Monica’s phone beeped.

“The ex?”

“No. Aaron. He’s checked in for his flight. He’s excited.” Monica smiled down at her phone. “Are you sure you’re okay taking tomorrow to show him around?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m excited about it, really. I haven’t been back to campus in a while. Should be fun.”

“I really appreciate this, Bridge. It means a lot.”

“He’s your kid. I want him to love this place, too.”

“You’re assuming I already do,” Monica noted with a lifted eyebrow.

“Oh, admit it: the grits won you over.”

Monica laughed and said, “I was won over way before breakfast this morning.”