Sin City Baby

Sam giggled, and it stopped us both in our tracks. She shook her head like she couldn't wrap her mind around something. And the sound falling from her lips? It was the most beautiful sound in the world to me.

“I’m working, but you guys can turn on the television or something,” Sam said, sitting down between us with her laptop.

Liam turned on the television, but I wasn’t focused on it. I was reading her articles and watching her words come to life. Her fingers flew across the keyboard at a pace that dizzied me, and I was wholly impressed. She cranked out article after article, uploading pictures and linking out to other pages. The fucking works.

“Is this what you do for the magazine?” I asked.

Liam shot me a look, and I shrugged.

“For the most part. Lots of pictures, analysis, comparison, and ultimately peddling links that lead to purchases that help feed the gross income of the website,” she said.

“Have you ever thought about starting your own line?” I asked.

“Levi. She’s working,” Liam said.

“No, it’s fine. I’m about to wrap up this article. And to answer your question, I have. That’s the goal, eventually. I used to have a better time frame on things. On life, really. But I’m trying to force myself to no longer adhere to it since, well, you know.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

“Do you know how you want to execute your fashion line?” Liam asked.

“Look who’s asking the questions now,” I said with a grin.

Liam tilted his head and smiled, and that beautiful giggle fell from her mouth again.

“I’ve thought about it. But it all takes some upfront capital I don’t have right now. The cheapest way is to make a website with an online store and order directly from the warehouses once orders come in. But that still requires me to meet with warehouses and link up with them and get my fashion line rolling off the machine presses or whatever. That takes a lot of time. The other way is to do the same online store, but charge more for handmade, quality pieces.”

“That sounds like in the better way to go,” Liam said.

“It is. But it’s hard to keep a business running on expensive items like that. Even if they are quality-made, a lot of people today don’t have the kind of money they would need to fork it over for clothes like that,” she said.

“So g

ive them something they wouldn’t get from any other store,” I said.

“Like what?” Sam asked.

Liam’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and I was shocked as well. It was one thing for Sam to open up to us about a dream like this, but it was another thing entirely for her to ask us for advice.

Were we turning a corner?

I eyed Liam quickly before I cleared my throat.

“When we were trying to get the construction company off the ground, we offered first-time clients the option to have a certain percentage off their second contract with us. It helped us get full-front costs on the first contract, and almost guaranteed us a second one,” I said.

“It helped us to build ourselves up in Bakersfield quickly,” Liam said.

“That’s great and all,” Sam said, “but it doesn’t work like that in the higher-end fashion industry. The margins for clothes like that aren’t like margins for most companies. Giving even thirty percent off an item can cut the margin in more than half.”

“Then give them something else. People like free shit. Maybe you can trade advertising space on your website or something for handmade goods in the community.”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Like accessories that are paired with the articles of clothing,” Liam said.

“You could get, like, people who make earrings and bracelets and purses and have a little window that says ‘this would match perfectly with this, and it’s free if you buy!’ or something like that,” I said.

“Free stuff in exchange for advertising space, and you can use that free stuff to entice people to buy. They see the quality of your clothing and how well it holds up, then they recommend you to other people,” Liam said.

“Boom. Marketing fucking solved,” I said with a grin.