“You sure?”
“Yeah. You were saying something about eleven percent when you came in and caught me drooling on my desk?”
Katie laughs. “Oh yeah. I just ran into Louis from the finance department. He said they’ve been tracking the numbers closely since the tour kicked off so that Mr. Martin could evaluate the effectiveness of sponsoring it. And apparently, since the ads started running the week before the Denver show, sales are already up eleven percent.”
“Wow.” Eleven percent is a much larger increase than what our standard advertising typically generates. And it’s only been a few weeks since the promos went out that showed us as a tour sponsor, so it’s even more impressive.
“Apparently Jase Wade fans are big bourbon drinkers.” Katie plops down in the seat across from my desk. “Who knew?”
“That’s fantastic. I’m going to email Louis really quick and see if I can get a copy of the exact numbers. Are we running any other ad campaigns right now?”
“Just the ‘Make the Right Call’ spots about calling for a ride if you’re too drunk to drive. And the print and digital promos we’ve been doing every month.”
I send a quick email to Louis with my request. But if this is correct, if being a sponsor on the Kickin’ Up Crazy tour is upping sales this much this quickly, it’s one of the highest returns on advertising investment we’ve ever seen.
Which means a few things. One being that this is a route we definitely want to continue taking, sponsoring tours. And the other I try not to think about. Because if I value this company and my job at all, the last thing I should be doing is engaging in an inappropriate relationship with someone on the tour.
If it got out that Dallas and I had a history, there would be all kinds of questions about why Midnight Bay was sponsoring the tour he just happened to be on. The nature of relationships between artists and sponsors should be of a strictly professional and business nature. The public discovering that we’d slept together in Denver would reflect poorly on Midnight Bay. It might not get me fired necessarily, but it would probably cause me to at least be questioned by my boss and possibly his sixty-two-year-old uncle about topics I never want to discuss with either of them. Ever.
I say a silent thank-you to the universe that Dallas isn’t currently famous enough to have paparazzi following him around. Then I feel bad for feeling glad that he isn’t famous yet.
“You are so in your head right now,” Katie says, startling me as I chew my manicure to hell while waiting on Louis’s response. “What’s the deal? I thought an eleven percent bump in sales would be great news.”
“It is.” I nod. “I’m just a little worried about . . . you know.”
“Your little fling with Mr. Hotpants?”
I roll my eyes. “Very funny. Not exactly. I’m more worried about our history coming to light. I’m the one who pushed us to sponsor this tour and then I outright begged Mr. Martin to put me on the promo campaign. If it comes out that I have a prior history with Dallas, it might get complicated.”
Katie looks at me like I’ve said something ridiculous. “How so?”
“There were two acts previously scheduled to be on the tour that were asked to leave for undisclosed reasons. Dallas took the open spot. It might look like I was involved in that, or like I used company dollars as leverage to get him on the tour.”
“But you weren’t and you didn’t. You worry too much, girl. You want to get a drink after work?”
Katie stands to leave, and while I could probably use some girl time, I really am exhausted. “I think I’m just going to go home and crash. Tomorrow, though, I’m in.”
“Sounds good.”
Katie leaves and the email I’ve been waiting for comes through. I’m lost in sales numbers when my phone chimes with a text notification.
I tear my eyes from my computer long enough to locate my phone to my left.