Strike Out
Frustration is an understatement.
"No, no, no!" Weiss snarled and threw another balled up piece of paper to join the small but growing pile on the floor, "That is completely infeasible."
She sat up straight, closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath.
It has been over a week, and I haven't come up with anything usable.
Weiss's brow knitted together as she tried to calm her turbulent thoughts.
There are plenty of options, just calm down and pick one.
But that was easier said than done. Her biggest obstacle was actually the competition's time limit; nine months was such an odd span to work with. Any longer and she could pull together any number of businesses, despite her relatively meager resources. It was the time limit that made eighty percent of her prospects extremely risky, if not infeasible.
It took time to set up and establish a business. First was the struggle of breaking into an existing market, then there was the time it took to find, hire, and train employees. Not to mention that most businesses had such a high start up cost and slow return that most business barely broke even their first year.
Weiss's pen hit the side of the pad harder as her frustration grew.
When factors like building and sustaining inventory, advertising, and potential production issues were added in, the whole equation started to have far too many parts and unknowns to maintain mentally.
So many of her options were well within her capabilities, but the fact of the matter was that even in the best circumstances they would require more time than was allowed to grow her business into something profitable. Her other ideas and options had their downsides too. Most would demand more of a daily time commitment than she could afford while finishing her last year of law school.
She stopped tapping her pen and forced herself to put something down on the paper, deciding to write down potential online businesses. An online company was an option that could afford her flexibility, because quitting law school certainly wasn't on the table. She knew she could do both.
Half a page of ideas later she stopped.
As she reviewed the list her disappointment and ire rose. Half of her ideas would require a programmer. Which was a huge problem, because she didn't know any that weren't already swamped with classwork or who didn't already have an extremely well paying full time job.
Another quarter of the list required a new or innovative product to sell. So nevermind the fact that she didn't have a creative bone in her body for such things, let alone where she would manage to find the time to produce products herself.
Weiss ripped the sheet from the pad and threw it down to join its fallen comrades on the floor. She then tossed her legal pad on the table and watched with contempt as the blank pages slid across the wooden surface.
The nervous irritable energy inside of her made Weiss feel like she was going to explode.
She stood up and walked a few steps to their living room. Her eyes looked down on the orange flames of their gas fireplace as she tried to regroup her thoughts.
Internet companies were such a huge risk. They could definitely make a sizable amount of money in a short amount of time, but most quick start ups were fad based. Within six months the business could boom and bust.
Her vision focused in on the blue base of one of the flames. That didn't even take into account the huge failure rate that such companies had. It was difficult to predict a market as volatile and ever shifting as the internet without spending considerable time and resources on researching current trends and accurately forecasting what people would want next.
Ugh, why did he choose such an obscure time limit? Time is the one thing I don't have!
Of course it was then that the ticking of the clock in the kitchen made its presence known. Weiss clenched her fists as she tried to block it out and think, but the harder she tried to ignore it the louder and more mocking its persistent prattle became.
A growl grew in her throat as her eyes flew open. Her neck snapped to the left as she glared at the round, bronze rimmed noise machine in the adjoining room. It's metronome like sound echoing off the tile floor and stone countertops with what felt like an impossible level of sound.
For a brief moment she fantasized about destroying the clock, but knew that doing so would only infuriate her roommate. So she rejected the potentially violent, if not extremely satisfying, measure.
Instead, she stomped past the couch and back to their dining room table to retrieve her earbuds from her satchel. A few taps and swipes later and her frayed nerves started to mend. The deep soothing tones of a cello's counter melody brought her the calm she so desperately needed.
It was true that her home city of Atlas was conservative and culturally bland in many ways, but music was not one of them. The entrance of the violin's rapid driving refrain pulled energy and willpower back into her exhausted mind. A long strained breath escaped her, and she opened her eyes again.
Weiss knew that her obfuscated mind needed to reset or she would never be able to produce anything worthwhile. She looked at the ticking clock in the kitchen and smirked at no longer being able to hear it. Then decided to get something to drink.
But her small victory over the clock felt hallow when she opened the refrigerator.
Despite the fact that she and her roommate both knew how to cook, it was an extraordinarily rare occurrence. Her and Blake being law students meant that neither of them usually had the time or energy to cook.
Time, I never have enough time for anything.
Weiss looked past the wide assortment of condiments, smattering of take-away boxes, and random assortment of alcoholic beverages for something to drink. She spotted a carton of milk, but then quickly retracted her hand when she saw how far past the expiration date it was. Next she eyed a liter of soda, but recalled that it was over a month old and had to be flat after living in their sad refrigerator for so long.
She let out a heavy disappointed sigh as she closed the door to the fridge.
Water it is.
As her glass slowly filled from the filtered tap on the sink Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose.
Why did I think working at home would turn out any better than my past three attempts at the library?
A stern frown marked her face as she wandered out of their small galley kitchen and back into the apartments large open living space. She briefly considered sitting on the couch instead of returning to the table on the other side of the room, but a quick glance at all of her discarded ideas on the floor in between the two areas told her that the minor change in location wasn't going to help.
She stoically returned to her previous workspace, full of self hate.
I am so utterly worthless at developing ideas on my own.
As self deprecating as Weiss knew she was being, there was an element of truth to her inner chiding. She had always assumed that she would be taking over a business that had been established for over a generation, so in her six years of study at Beacon she had never put energy into learning the skills of creative thinking or innovation.
After her prolonged sulk she let out a resigned growl and leaned across the table to grab her discarded notepad. She quickly started to list out store ideas, but within a minute realized that it was a list she had produced and rejected three times in the last week.
Weiss morosely sunk against the wood slatted back of her chair; she felt defeated.
What on Remnant made me think that I would ever be good enough to run the Schnee Energy Conglomerate? I can't even pick or come up with one substantially sound idea. I have less than nine months left, my final year of law school to complete, and not a single creative bone in my body!
She angrily pulled her headphones out of her ears.
When she did she was quickly berated once again by the nettling beat of the kitchen clock. Each tick made the reality of her deadline all the more anxiety inducing.
If she didn't decide on one of her terrible ideas soon she would be left choking on her siblings' dust.
Every movement of the second hand made her think of not only the loss of the future she had worked her entire life for, but that Whitley, of all people, might actually beat her.
Weiss dropped her legal pad back on the table and then let her head hang off of the back of her chair, not caring how uncomfortably the wood dug into the back of her neck.
There are just too many options and variables. Online, brick and mortar, service based, product based, inventory, employees, apps, media production, permits, leases, varying start up costs...
A knot of anxiety and sadness grew in her throat.
I am so worthless.
She sat with her morose thoughts until the sound of the lock to their front door being turned broke her free of her self induced torture. She quickly grabbed her pad and sat up in an attempt to look busy and avoid her roommate's gaze.
When she heard Blake drop her bag near the couch, Weiss did her best to feign productivity.
A second later, out of the corner of her eye, Weiss saw her tall, dark haired roommate nudge one of the discarded balls of paper with her foot.
An indifferent question hit Weiss's ears a moment later, "No luck at home either I take it?"
Relinquishing her ruse of productivity, she sat her blank notepad back on the table. "What gave it away," Weiss grumbled, no longer bothering to hide her deep seated frustration.
Blake frowned at the unfriendly retort. She folded her arms and leaned against the nearby wall, "You don't have to put yourself through any of this. You are so well versed and driven that you could get a job at any firm in the country when we graduate. But instead you insist on torturing yourself for your father's unattainable approval."
She watched Blake's vissage darken as her roommate looked away in disappointment.
Silence sat on the air like an unliftable weight. It was the same tired argument that they had been having since that day.
Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose and held in a deep sigh. As annoying as it was to have to justify her desire to inherit the family company, again, Weiss knew that Blake just wanted the best for her. It was actually why Blake was one of the only people Weiss had ever considered a friend. That and the fact that Blake somehow managed to put up with her.
"I don't-," Weiss stated sharply, but then stopped to take the ire out of her words, "I don't want to get into it right now. You know that this is my best chance at attaining the right to take over. If I win it won't matter if Whitley is the favorite or that Winter already works in the higher branches of the company. There will be a legally binding document that names me as my father's successor."
Blake rolled her eyes, then kicked off the wall to approach the table. She casually bent forward to rest her forearms against the back of the chair that faced Weiss, and apathetically added, "And all of that hinges on whether or not you can create and run a more successful business than your siblings while you finish law school." Golden eyes that knew her so well pierced Weiss's confidence, "It feels like you are putting more on yourself than any one person is physically capable of."
Weiss turned away from her friend's scrutinizing gaze and pushed back with false bravado, "Well, it is a good thing I am a Schnee then. Exceeding expectations is what I have been taught to do from birth."
She chanced a looked to check her friend's reaction and was met with a small knowing smirk, "So then, regale me with your engenius business plan already."
Panic and irritation welled inside of Weiss. They both knew that she didn't have anything, but that didn't stop her from trying to hold up appearances, "I have many prospects to choose from, I am still determining which is the most viable."
"Run them by me then," Blake pulled out the chair she had been leaning on and sat down, "maybe I can help."
Dammit, why does she always have to call my bluff?
It took a moment but Weiss finally let go of her sensitive pride with an obligatory eye roll, "I still don't actually have anything of substance."
Having completed their dance Blake's tone softened, "I have been trying to tell you for days now that you need a break." A soft smirk touched her friend's lips, "I know it is customary for you to ignore my advice, but you should listen to me this time. You need to walk away long enough to calm down and clear your mind. Or you will never come up with an idea."
Weiss narrowed her eyes and apathetically asked, "What in the nearly three years that we have known each other makes you think that I have the ability to take a break, let alone relax?"
Blake sat back and let out a quiet laugh, "While that is true, it doesn't change the fact that you need a distraction. And I happen to know from experience that I can usually get you to go out for a drink with me. So," Blake crossed her arms and smiled, "you and I both know there is no edible food in this house. I'll give you an hour to get ready and then I am dragging you out for dinner and then to a bar to unwind."
She looked at her friend for a long moment, but then let go of the tension she had been holding in, "You win this round Belladonna."
"Hey blondie," the twenty something frat boy called out to her in a smarmy tone.
Yang took a deep breath in and reminded herself that tips were the only way she was able to save back up for school.
The tall blond plastered a fake smile across her face and turned around, "Hey yourself, what can I get for you tonight?"
A leering smirk spread across the face of the creep that was clearly checking out her cleavage. It wasn't like she minded when people looked, after all she had decided how few buttons to use. It was all about how he looked that made her skin crawl.
His eyebrow raised, and she just knew that he was contemplating how gross he wanted his answer to be.
It is eight o'clock on a Sunday night, why doesn't this slimeball have some other place to be?
An uncomfortable second later he had tired of looking at her chest. His blue eyes narrowed in a predatory way before he answered, "Well I'm sure a girl like you could get me plenty of things, but how about we take things slow and start with a beer."
She managed to keep something close to smile on her face, as she pointed to the chalkboard full of local draft beers above her, "Well we have a few of those to choose from, so why don't you decide while I check your ID?"
He frowned, but pulled out his wallet and forked over his identification, "The guy at the door already checked it."
As Yang grabbed for the card he held on, apparently not willing to let go without one last chauvinist comment, "Just so you know, that still has my old address on it. So don't think that you can follow me around like a crazy ex." He eyed her, "At least not until after we sleep together."
Yang jerked the ID out of his hand, and after seeing that he was old enough, commit his name to memory.
Cardin Winchester, definitely adding that to the our list of sleazy customers to keep an eye out for. I'll have to let Yatsuhashi know not to let him in next time. What a complete fuck head.
She handed the card back to him no longer giving a shit about being polite, "So, which beer are you going to have? The line behind you is starting to back up."
He scowled at her tone and Yang found it hard not to smile. "All those beers are too girly, just give me a double whiskey on the rocks instead." Cardin gave her one last leering smirk, "I like my drinks to be hard and stiff."
Normally she would have asked what brand he wanted, but he was pulling at her absolute last nerve. So instead she grabbed a glass and their bottom shelf whisky without looking as she smiled brightly at him, "I think I see what you are getting at now. If you are looking to find a guy, then it sounds like you should come back on Thursdays."
The shocked look on his face was everything, "That's not what I said, I'm not some ho-"
"Relax dude, only a complete asshole would judge someone based on their sexuality," she slid him his drink with a smirk. Then she held out her hand, so that he knew it was time for him to pay and get the fuck out.
He narrowed his eyes and gave her his credit card, "Keep it open."
Yang barely managed to suppress a groan of disappointment.
Cardin took a hit off his drink, "I don't plan on leaving until I have girl to take home."
Yang gritted her teeth. Having such an asshat hang around all night was at the absolute bottom of her list of how she wanted her shift to go.
Thankfully, when she turned back around from putting his order in the system he had disappeared into the line behind him actually had been getting long, and she was happy to have a distraction to get her mind off of the unfortunate encounter.
It was busy, but wasn't anything she hadn't handled a hundred times before. Knowing that Sage was scheduled to come in soon made the rush easier to manage.
But after her fourteenth straight customer, fatigue started to hit her. She shook her head as she waited for the tap to run clean, this was her twelfth shift without a day off.
Her shoulders sank a little, being so overworked wasn't anyone's doing but her own. She always asked or offered to take extra shifts for people, so she didn't have any room to complain or feel sorry for herself.
It wasn't like she had anything better to do with her time anyhow. Since she had been kicked out of culinary school she had spent all of her time working. If she ever wanted to be able to afford her way back in she needed the money.
Yang plastered another saccharine smile on her face as she handed a drink to the customer she was helping. Bartending at a university bar was a far cry from her goal of having her own restaurant, but sadly without a degree and some serious connections that dream seemed like a total fantasy.
As she bussed the empty drinks at the bar Yang let out a somber sigh, the best she could reasonably hope for was that she would only have to work for another year before going back to finish school.
Her hand reflexively clenched as her anxiety grew. Everything hinged on her not messing up a second time. She had gone from being near the top of her class for two years to flunking out during her last year. It had been utterly humiliating.
So much so, that sometimes she questioned if she really wanted to go back. Especially when considering that it was more financially sound to work as a bartender after she graduated then working as a junior or even a line chef. Add onto that the burden of her ridiculous student loans, and it was a pretty bleak outcome no matter what she decided to do.
Yang started to pour a cranberry and vodka for a girl that must have been just old enough to get in. She was laughing at her two friends behind her that were arguing over what they should get. The scene made Yang smile a little.
It truthfully wasn't that terrible being a bartender. Guys like Cardin were an unfortunate reality, but the place she worked at was pretty nice for a college hang out. Plus, their bouncers were good at keeping the jerks out once they knew who they were.
She smirked; most guys took one look at their two meters plus bouncer, Yatsu, and decided that arguing with him about not being able to come in was not worth the pain he could easily inflict upon them. At that she took a second to look up to see how the line at the door was doing.
When she did, she felt herself pause. The two women that walked past Yatsu were so good looking that Yang couldn't take her eyes off of them.
There was a tall dark haired woman that wore high black boots, tight jeans, and a baggy, well worn t-shirt from one of the local rock bands that had played at their bar before. Her outfit, dark purple eye makeup, and flat expression made it clear that she was the exact opposite of the bubbly girls Yang had just served drinks to.
Without a doubt, it was a smoking hot look on the woman, but truthfully is was her shorter friend that stood next to her that really caught Yang's attention.
Her white haired companion might have been a good bit smaller than her friend, but Yang had a feeling she more than made up for that in other areas. Her starched and tailored blue dress shirt, form fitting pinstripe skirt, and heels set her apart from the rest of the crowd instantly.
From her gorgeously toned legs to her sharp features and long silky pulled back hair, the woman was simply stunning. Though it was the shorter woman's expression that really caught Yang's eye.
It was hard to capture in words, but there was something about the way she smiled that drew Yang in. At first glance it had looked like a condescending smirk towards her friend, but the way the smile touched her light blue eyes gave away a hidden warmth and amusement.
The longer Yang looked at her the more intrigued she became. The woman was perfectly dressed and composed, but tiny things like the way she smiled, her polar opposite friend, or the mark over her eye gave the woman an air of mystery and imperfection.
Despite her rational mind telling her that she should stop staring Yang was positively entranced. She wanted to know mo-
"Hey, can I get another rum and diet cola," a skinny blonde girl, that had magically appeared in front of her asked.
"Sure," Yang laughed as she tired to ignore the fact that her pulse had quickened. Not to mention the dumb grin she knew had to be on her face. She shook her head with a quiet laugh and handed the girl her drink, "Sorry about the wait."
The twenty something took the drink with a smile, "It's okay," she sucked on the straw before adding, "you are really cute, so I don't mind." She then slid Yang ten lien for the drink, "Keep it."
Yang grinned as the girl rushed back to her giggling girlfriends and turned to help another person at the bar.
Money is definitely an upsides of this job, but-
She spotted the two women from before looking for an open seat at the bar.
-serving drinks to gorgeous women is hardly a bad way to spend a night.
Hope you like it, it was a pain and three halves to get right.
Reviews are appreciated, if you want to follow story progress for this or any of my other stories find me on tumblr at "shippingK8"
If you are interested the AO3 site has a playlist for each chapter at the end of each chapter.