“It’ll need to make a statement. We’ve teased enough with the advertisements we’ve used so far.”
“We have.” I picture the solid black background. The word ‘SoulM8’ splashed across it in a uniquely recognizable font with its clever spelling—S-O-U-L-M followed by the number eight. In our logo, the eight is turned horizontal so it looks like an infinity symbol.
“Sexy enough to bring the women in, masculine enough to keep the men interested.”
I nod and look at the stacks of shit to do on my desk. No time like the present to rip off the Band-Aid and jump right into the pain of whatever it is that Robert wants to do.
“Now, tell me about those ideas of yours.”
“I want to shift the focus of our marketing.” His voice is even, his eyes studying me for a reaction.
“I thought that’s what we were just talking about. Adding Harlow as the face of SoulM8—both visually on the signage and in person at the launch parties will help with that.”
“Agreed, but after thinking about it on my run this morning, I think our vision is short-sighted.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. We need to sell the outcome—the happily ever after, not the initial hook-up.”
“Okay.” I chew on the word as I wait to see what else he’s going to say. Fuck if this isn’t hard for me. To listen and have to take direction. I fly solo. I work how I want, when I want so this whole partner thing is bullshit . . . but I force a smile and remind myself that the four million dollar prize and bragging rights will be more than worth it. “And how do you intend we do that?”
“We highlight a couple who has found love through the site and we use them as our poster children—our promise of what’s possible.”
“Robert.” It’s a warning. An are you fucking serious? A shot over the bow for him not to go there.
The platform is still in beta mode. The only person he knows who has found love through the site is me.
“Hear me out.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Yes, you do.” His smile is his own warning to me. “Harlow’s gorgeous and intelligent. You’re handsome and successful. The two of you together embody the exact model of clientele we target: young urban professionals who don’t have time to waste in bars and wait for the one to come along. You’re too hungry in all aspects of life to sit around and wait. You’re go-getters. You’re proactive. You’re two people who met on the site and have found love. What better way to sell your own platform than to prove it works?”
He’s fucking brilliant, and I hate him for it. I can see the ad campaign. The graphics online. The ads in magazines. The allure of an attractive couple who have found a dream relationship. All up until the part about it being my face that’s on it.
“I’ve already set it up for you to join the promotional tour.”
“Jesus Christ, Robert.” I cough the words out as I stand from my desk and turn my back to look out the wall of glass where the City of Angels is busy at work. “I can’t just drop everything and—”
“Yes, actually you can.” When I turn to face him, I’m met stare for stare. No one said Robert Waze made his fortunes by being a pushover. “Your assistant told me your calendar is pretty clear and the few things that are there, I’m sure you can move them.”
“This isn’t my only company to take care of.”
“It is for the time being,” he asserts.
“But my job is to run the company, not be the face of it.”
“Not anymore.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and can hear the taunts from our monthly status conference call we had this morning.
“C’mon, Phillips. Nothing to report yet? I’m already turning a profit while you stand there with your dick in your hand waiting to bet on love while we’re cashing in on tech. ”
“Simmer down, Kostas. I like to take my time, nice and slow. Just how the sheilas like it.”
Robert’s voice brings me back to the present. “I’ve already lined up the big three for our kick off. They were more than onboard with the mention of your name.”
The Today Show. Good Morning USA. CBS This Morning.
Even I’m impressed with the line up that Robert brought to the table through his connections.
“I thought we were doing small events. Mixers. Conferences.” I try to act unimpressed.
“We are,” Robert says with a nod, “but with this new marketing angle, I was able to sell the launch as a public interest story. Wealthy, unattainable man is finally tamed by love.”
“Tamed? This is my dignity we’re talking about here.”
“All’s fair in love.” He winks and my hands fist. “This whole concept allowed me to line up more visibility. Women want hope. They see you, see that it’s possible to catch a man like you . . . and they buy it. When you make women swoon, they talk. They talk, we get clients. Clients means subscriptions. Subscriptions means—”
“Money.”