I doubted that.
It was a big project, and although she'd done a decent job of making her case, I couldn't see her doing a hundred times the work for no benefit to herself. Plus, she was thinking too small.
She'd said nothing about TV or social media coverage. And instead of wrapping it up into a larger campaign, she'd mentioned only the festivals.
But me? I was thinking bigger.
When I made no reply, Brody said, "And why'd you walk her down yourself?"
I was still thinking. "Down where?"
"To the lobby," he said. "When I stopped by, that's where Erin said you were." He grinned, "So you're offering escort service now?"
I didn't know what I was doing.
It was a strange sensation. Normally, I knew what I wanted, and how to get it. But with Mina, I knew neither of these things.
It had been a long time since I hadn't been able to figure someone out. This was the third time I'd seen her, and I was starting to wonder if I'd gotten her wrong from the get-go.
As far as her proposal, I'd told her only that I'd give her an answer soon.
When she'd asked how soon, I'd been vague in my reply.
I wasn't giving her the runaround. But I was giving myself time to decide on our level of commitment. As it stood, the campaign wouldn't cost much money, only half a million total.
This amount was only a fraction of what I'd paid for a single thirty-second spot during the last Super Bowl.
If I played my cards right – which I always did – I'd get more bang for my buck with the festival thing.
In reply to Brody's question on why I'd escorted Mina down to the lobby, I said, "Hey, I couldn’t let her run loose, could I?"
"Not if she's crazy," he said. "But you didn't have to walk her out yourself."
He was right.
And yet, I had. In fact, I'd escorted her both ways – in and out. I'd never done this before and hadn't planned on it today.
But I'd done it regardless.
I still wasn't sure why.
What was that about?
When I made no reply, Brody said, "And you never answered the question."
"What question?"
"Scale of one to ten, how crazy?" He chuckled. "C'mon, give it your best shot."
As I considered the question, I wandered to the nearest window and looked out over the city. I did a double-take when I spotted Mina down below.
She was on a narrow side street, maybe five blocks away from our building.
She wasn't facing me. She wasn't facing anyone. But it was definitely her.
I could tell by the hair and the dress – and the fact she was doing something I'd never seen.
Considering that I'd seen pretty much everything, this was truly saying something.
From behind me, Brody said, "C'mon, give me a number."
"Scale of one to ten, huh?" I kept my eyes on Mina. "Eleven."
Chapter 19
Mina
Un-freaking-believable.
I'd left Blast Tools just ten minutes ago – without an answer, by the way – only to discover that I'd accidentally locked my keys in my car.
I knew why, too. I'd been so stupidly nervous that it was a small miracle I hadn't forgotten my own shoes.
And speaking of shoes, it was unfortunate that I'd worn high heels today, because I knew exactly how to get into my car, and the method wasn't heel-friendly.
As I stood on the city curb, I couldn't help but sigh. Why, oh why, wasn't I wearing sneakers?
And hey, while I was at it, jeans and a long-sleeve shirt would've been a whole lot better than a dress. Still, I tried to look on the bright side. At least the weather was unseasonably warm, and it wasn't raining. Otherwise, I'd be in real trouble.
I'd parked on a narrow side-street with very little traffic, probably because most of the nearby businesses were closed – meaning for good, not simply for the day.
I should've known this street was bad luck.
As I stood just outside my driver's side door, I took a long look around. Although my car wasn't the only one parked along this stretch, I saw nobody else nearby.
So I did the only thing that made sense. I reached into my purse and pulled out a screwdriver. The screwdriver was brand new, purchased only two days ago as a prop for my presentation. And even though I'd ended up ditching the whole prop idea, I was still lugging the tool around.
It was a good thing, too, because it was about to come in very handy.
With the screwdriver in-hand, I set my computer, along with my purse and portfolio, on the sidewalk beside my car. And then, I circled around to the vehicle's front.
After verifying once again that I was alone, I kicked off my shoes and crawled up onto the hood and then onto the roof.
My car was old, but reliable – with one exception. My sunroof was a real lemon. I'd had it installed maybe four years ago, and it had never worked quite right. Not only did it leak during heavy rainstorms, it also made annoying wind noises whenever I drove over fifty-three miles an hour.
Yes, I did know the exact speed.
And why?
It was because the sound was that annoying – so annoying that for years now, I'd been driving no faster than fifty-two miles an hour. Happily, this wasn't a huge deal, considering that I didn't do much highway driving, anyway.
As far as the sunroof itself, after several failed attempts at fixing it, I'd given up and focused on saving up for a new car.
On the upside, I'd learned the hard way last summer that if I pried on the sunroof hard enough from above, it would pop open just enough for me crawl into the car.
So that was my plan.
Unfortunately, just as I'd managed to wedge the screwdriver between the sunroof and the seal surrounding it, who did I see exiting a nearby building?
Emory Hawthorne.
I almost
