The Love Game

She and Cathy had met during one of these lunches years ago. They’d become fast friends. Then when Iris had confided in Cathy about the problems she was dealing with at work, Cathy had encouraged her to strike out on her own. The two partnered on many of their projects. Iris’s writing skills allowed Cathy to expand her client services and Cathy provided design work for Iris’s contracts.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t tell your sisters about the interview.” Cathy’s jaw-length curtain of raven hair swung forward as she pulled her chair under the table.

That would’ve been bad. “I wanted to land the account before I said anything to them.” Iris added cream to her coffee. “Now I don’t have to explain that my potential client thinks all of my experience leaked out of my brain when I opened my own firm.”

“It would’ve just given them more ammunition to push you back into working for someone else.”

Iris hummed her agreement as she sipped her coffee. “So what’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean?” Cathy sounded distracted. Another sign something was bothering her friend.

Iris pointed her fork toward Cathy’s plate. “You’ve piled enough carbs and processed sugar on your plate to put you in a coma. Are you still thinking of returning to the wonderful world of corporate dysfunction?”

Cathy blew a frustrated breath. “The economic recovery is slow and my bills are high. Everything’s gone up.”

“I understand but just give it a while longer, Cat. Don’t give up on your business yet,” Iris encouraged her friend, thinking she should take her own advice.

“It’s not just the economy.” Cathy’s words sped up as her annoyance kicked in. “Clients don’t want to pay what we’re worth. They think since their son has a Mac, why should they pay you to design a brochure when he can do it for free? Or their daughter can spell so why should they pay a professional copywriter?”

“The insane asylum where I used to work had started squeezing vendors that way.”

“And what’s worse is that these kids, fresh out of college and in many cases untrained, accept this pocket change as their wages instead of researching the industry pay standard.” Cathy’s voice tightened. “It’s insulting.”

Iris frowned at her turkey wrap. “Yes, it is. Have you considered your sister’s suggestion that you apply to be an adjunct graphic arts professor with her university? It could supplement your business income.”

“I’m considering it.” Cathy huffed another breath. “I’m not getting any younger, Iris. I’ve got to—”

“Afternoon, ladies. Mind if we join you?” The male voice interrupted their conversation.

Iris’s heart sank at Peter Kimball’s request that he and his associate sit at their table. She gritted a smile and lied through her teeth. “Not at all.”

The seasoned marketing professional and owner of Kimball & Associates sat beside her. His young sidekick, a man Iris didn’t recognize, took the chair to Peter’s left.

Iris sucked in her breath as Peter extended his hand across her chest to Cathy.

“Pete Kimball.” The marketing executive gave the designer a toothy smile that didn’t reach his pale blue eyes.

“We’ve met. Cathy Yee.” Her friend barely acknowledged him before returning to her veggie wrap.

Peter withdrew his hand, smoothing it over his salt-and-pepper, salon-styled hair. “Oh, yes. You look different. So, Iris, how have you been?”

“Fine, thank you.” The waves of irritation Cathy generated distracted Iris.

“I heard you left RGB.” Peter dug into his pasta salad.

“Yes, four months ago.” She toyed with her chicken-noodle soup.

“I’ve always admired your talent. I’m sure I can find a place for you on my team.”

“Thank you but I’m not looking.” Iris suppressed a shudder as she took in his smarmy smile. She considered his deep, golden skin. Was he using a tanning bed? Perhaps that tint came from a can.

Iris glanced at Peter’s associate. The young man was methodically making his way across his plate.

“What are you doing, then?” Peter’s smile faded as his gaze sharpened.

“I’ve opened my own marketing and public relations consulting firm, The Beharie Agency.”

“Really?” Laughter burst from Peter’s throat. “Starting your own business is a lot of hard work. You don’t have the exp—”