The lights were too bright. My eyes hurt within seconds of being in the showroom. Tara stood to my left, whispering in my ear, while the photographers and videographers readied their cameras. Reporters stood in a flock by the door. They all glanced around them, waiting to see if we were ready to get started. Part of me wanted to run before they had a chance to ask me a single question. I hadn’t expected to be nervous, but seeing all their faces made me sweat profusely.
I stretched my neck from side to side for a few seconds, trying to relax. I was getting worked up over nothing. This wasn’t the first time I had been put in an awkward situation and it wouldn’t be last. I told myself I could handle it. I was ready.
“Just remember,” Tara said softly. “We’re returning to our roots. Say that a lot. Bring up our roots and what we used to stand for. Stress the fact that we’re doing a complete one eighty, okay? Don’t forget that.”
“Tara,” I said, laughing. I turned to face her. “Relax. I’ll be fine.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “I’m just doing my job, you know? Making sure you remember your talking points.”
“How could I possibly forget them?” I said with humor. “You’ve basically done everything but whisper them in my ear while I slept. Unless… did you?”
Tara rolled her eyes at me and turned away. I laughed and wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans. My nerves slowly dissipated. Talking to Tara made me less anxious, oddly enough. It reminded me that I wasn’t in this alone.
Besides, the longer I waited, the more time I had to prepare myself. I meant what I told Tara. I was ready. She prepared me well. I knew exactly what to say and exactly how to say it.
“Here,” Tara said. She reached up and adjusted the collar on my leather jacket. I thought about stopping her, but she stood so close to me I could count the freckles on her nose. Her scent washed over me and I couldn’t breathe. She smelled amazing and she looked even better. When she took a step away from me, I found myself wanting to pull her back.
I cleared my throat and nodded a silent thank you. Tara scrutinized my appearance one last time before she turned to the reporters. With a wave, she called them over and directed me to the podium. I could hear cameras clicking wildly as I walked to my position.
Once I was safely behind the podium, I looked around the room and smiled politely. I wasn’t supposed to be too stern or it might make the reporters nervous, but I also wasn’t supposed to be too friendly or it might not give the right impression to the clients. It was a fine line, but I knew how to walk it.
“Good morning,” I said. “Thank you for coming. I’m not one for speeches, so I thought we would just jump right in to questions. Anyone?”
Every reporter in the room raised their hand high in the air. I looked around, not sure who to pick first. Tara caught my eye and subtly pointed to a woman with deep black hair. She looked severe, but I trusted Tara’s judgement.
“Yes,” I said, pointing to the woman. “Go ahead.”
“We’ve heard that Yates’ Motorcycles is undergoing a rebranding of sorts,” she said simply. “Can you tell us a little more about what that means?”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll keep it simple. We feel we’ve lost our way. Over the years, we’ve drifted from the true identity of this company. We’ve allowed ourselves to become more commercially minded, and that was a mistake. One that we’re now trying to rectify. Our rebranding will be a one eighty of sorts. We will return to our roots. We will once again focus our attention on our customers, on the motorcycle community itself.”
“And how will you do that?” a male reporter chimed in quickly.
“With the bikes, first of all,” I said. “Our new models were designed after extensive evaluations of what real riders are looking for. We polled as many motorcycle enthusiasts as we could to find out just what kind of bikes they’re looking for. We took their feedback to heart when designing this latest batch of bikes.”
“When will they be available?” the same reporter asked.
“Next month,” I answered promptly.
There was a small pause as all the reporters murmured to each other and took hurried notes. I looked around, wondering if I should say more. My eyes sought out Tara and she just shook her head to let me know I shouldn’t speak yet.
“What role will you play in this rebranding?” a different reporter asked. I had my answer ready.
“Basically, I’m the face of the company,” I said simply. “I’m the person you’ll see on our advertisements and during our press conferences.”
“So, Ray Yates will no longer be speaking for his own company?” someone shot back.
“Of course, he will,” I said easily. “Just not all the time. You’ll see a lot more of me now.”
“And you’re Ray’s son?” someone asked.
“I am.” I nodded. I kept my answers simple, not wanting to stir anything up for myself or for the company.
“Why are you just now coming to work for your father?” the first reporter asked. “What have you been doing all these years while your brother’s been here, working alongside Ray?”
“Riding motorcycles,” I answered. My tone was serious, but I let a glimmer of a smile appear on my face. The reporters all laughed, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing I needed was to air out my family’s drama in a room full of press. Part of me worried they wouldn’t accept my answer, but they quickly moved on to other topics.
“Will you be traveling to various Yates’ locations?” someone asked. “To other dealerships?”
“I’ll have to answer that question at another time,” I said. “The boss and I haven’t discussed that quite yet.”
“Would you be open to it?” the same reporter asked.
“Again, that’s a conversation between me and the boss,” I said firmly. They were pushing and I wasn’t going to budge.
The truth was, I couldn’t imagine traveling outside of Arizona for work. Now that Paisley was with me every day, there was no way I could just leave town for weeks at a time. I glanced at Tara for a second, wanting to see what she thought of the question. She wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes were determinedly focused on the group of reporters in front of her.
The questions continued at warp speed. They fired and I answered just as fast. My talking points were locked and loaded. Tara prepared me perfectly, and when I stepped away from the podium, I knew I’d nailed it.
“That was amazing,” Tara said as she walked over to me. She put her hand on my back and steered me around the room.
I shook hands with each reporter and thanked the photographers for being there. While everyone packed up their equipment and began filing out, Tara and I stepped to the side and watched them leave.
“I kicked ass,” I said with a grin.
“You did good,” Tara agreed. “But there are still a few things we could—”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not right now. Just enjoy the moment, okay?”
“I am enjoying the moment,” she argued.
“No, you’re not.” I laughed. “You’re already overanalyzing a thousand little details. I can tell. You’re so easy to read when you’re obsessing.”
“I do not obsess!” Tara said.