Chapter 2: Good Vibes

Logan

I've got all my best employees arrayed out in front of me, a new product I truly believe in, and my dog is napping like a sleeping puppy the size of a Volkswagen on his bed beside the counter. I should be happy enough to skip. But all I can think about is that I already stuck this sucker on its loudest setting and there's been not a peep of response from next door.

"You'd think the weight of the expanded battery pack would be too much for the suction cup but this baby's solid." I gesture to where I've stuck it on the wall. I have a white board I keep open for diagrams—yes, sometimes our older clients need the visual—and suction cup testing. The fact that it's directly across the wall from where Veronica plugs in her mixers? Absolutely planned and executed with blueprint-perfect vindictiveness. Hey, it's no less than she would do to me.

"I'm not moving many of the suction cup styles these days," Shonda says. "Do they have a different model with a handle?"

"Same model." The back door opens, and a smile spreads across my face. Bingo. "You can swap them out, have either one."

Shonda makes a note. "Ooh, that's good. Pass my compliments on to the—"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Veronica blasts into the room with a bang of the door slamming behind her. "I'm making a souffle, Logan. Can't you float your own boat with something with a little less horse power?"

"Top of the morning to you too, neighbor."

Her eyes have locked hard on the dildo and she doesn't seem to be able to look away. I can see the pulse pounding in her throat from here.

"What's that thing topped with, a damn disco ball?" She looks at the rotating head like it's a prop from a horror movie.

"If you'll excuse us, Veronica, we need to get through this training. But if you have questions about the automation features available in the vibrator's head, you can see me after the lecture."

I turn my back on her, knowing good and well this will only dare her to stay longer.

"As I was saying, Your Next Best Boyfriend was created by a local woman right down the street in Treme. Built the first prototype out of her attic after she was…underwhelmed shall we say, at her latest Tinder date's personal assets. I think anybody who manages to start anything other than an afternoon nap in their attic in this climate deserves our support. Am I right? More importantly, I think the changes she's made to the clit stimulator are—"

"Are you kidding me?"

"I never kid about clit stimulation."

I turn around, though, because Veronica's voice is flat, not furious like I was expecting. She's moved from staring at the wall penis to staring with even more disbelief at my employees.

"This is your staff? Did your penis shrink so much you need to pay beautiful women to hang out with you?"

Well, isn't that interesting? My lips twitch up toward a smirk and I gesture broadly with an open hand.

"Ladies and Bobby, my ex-wife. She didn't mean to objectify you like that, she's just having a day."

Bobby back in the corner has snapped his arms crossed over his waxed and well-toned chest. "Excuse moi? Beautiful I'll take, but my preferred pronouns are he and him, and after the bossman here bought out the Country Club for a private pool and toy party, I am also the top-selling employee of the quarter, thank you very much."

"No, thank you very much." I lay a hand over my heart. "And my bank account thanks you, too."

My oldest employee, Shonda, is dying laughing at all this, and Laura's grinning too. The newest, Imani, just looks confused, but she's pretty as a picture and no matter how much Veronica impugnes my dick size, I know pretty moves product.

"Whatever. Can you play with your loudest toys say, later? When my souffle has set?"

"Employee training for a new product line. Gotta do it before open of business. Would you accept a free sample as an apology?"

"You are…" She huffs. "Unbelievable."

"Generous, I think is the word you're looking for," I call after her as she stomps out, her ass twitching indignantly beneath the loving wrap of those yoga pants. Pony romps after her, excited to see his mistress for a mid-day visit. "We only got three comped units for training and I have to tell you these babies are revolutionary!"

I said it mostly to yank her chain, but I was partially serious. I know the kind of brittle and irritable she gets when she hasn't been thoroughly laid in a while. Veronica's a deeply sexual woman and she's always fought how much sensual attention she needs to keep her satisfied. She doesn't like to need anybody, not even back when we were firmly together, and she'll never bother to waste the time on herself.

Something tugs in my throat and I cough, then try to swallow it away. She was pale again today. Veronica was born the kind of beautiful you could drag through a swamp and lose up a tree for a week and still count on her to outshine every model at a runway show. Delicate cheekbones and wicked intelligent eyes the blue of sunlight through sea glass. Except these days her blonde hair always looks a little papery, her voice a little…off.

I've never pretended to be a good man. I'm not even going to try to say I wasn't attracted to her looks first. Back in high school when we met, girls were mostly something for me to chase. Veronica, once I teased her into actually giving me the time of day, was the first girl I ever really hung out with instead of made out with. So sue me—she made me laugh. But these days? Her sense of humor seems to have hit its expiration date.

Shonda clears her throat. "Um, boss?"

I pull my gaze away from the door where my former wife disappeared and make a quick pivot to shut off the vibrating dildo that's still buzzing away on the wall.

I divorced Veronica to save her from me. Now, every day I have to see how much worse off she is without me, and I can't do shit about it. Can't feed her when she's hungry, can't pull her into my arms when the edges of her start to fray. Even her eyes seem a little less vivid than they used to be. The only time I see that real Veronica fire is when I piss her off. When her temper flares, the light comes back into her eyes, and the wit snaps back into her voice. For an instant, she's herself again.

"As I was saying," I start up again, my voice the deliberately light I've learned to keep people from worrying about me. "This product line was started by a local woman, Lachelle Andrews, who's been a loyal customer for years. I really believe in her innovations, and I want to throw all Sinsation's resources into making this initial launch a success. To be blunt, she's smarter than the big corporations and we don't need to shovel more money into the pockets of businessmen who wouldn't know how to please a woman even if they read the manuals on their own products."

"Look, I like the look of some of these new features, too," Imani says. "But didn't she have some electrical problems with the prototype? Maybe I ain't wanting something going up my mmm-hmm that was patched together by some sister in an attic, you know what I'm saying?"

"Those issues have been taken care of, clean testing bill all the way down. I've got the stats in back if you want to see the data from the electronics lab."

"Oh, this is the girl!" Shonda sits up straighter on her stool. "The one you hooked up with your buddy from Tulane, the engineering hotshot over with Sony or whatever."

"Samsung." I shrug. "I just made an introduction, no big deal. The testing data's solid, the features are good, and the money's local. That's what I care about."

"How many kids she got?" Shonda asks.

I consider lying, just for a second, but she'll know. Shonda's worked for me for three years and she could read me like a book by the time her first paycheck cleared. She's my most consistent top seller, both at the wine-and-toy parties and here in the store, and it's not because she's pretty, like Veronica pointed out. It's because she's sharp.

"Four kids," I say, in my most casual voice.

"Mmm-hmm," Shonda hums and she and Bobby share a smug smile.

"Also, Lachelle's rent goes up in two months and if she isn't turning a profit by then, she's got to move to Metairie."

"The suburbs?" Bobby gasps and Laura shivers.

"I knew you'd understand the stakes," I say dryly, heading over to the door to flip the "Open" sign. "Offer this product first at your parties, I want front-table placement in the store this whole week, and don't forget, those three comped trial toys are first come first serve. I know how crucial this first roll out is for a small investor who's coasting on limited start-up capital. She needs to turn over these prototypes if she's going to be able to afford to produce any more."

What I don't say is that I know exactly how limited that start-up capital is. Since all the profits from my last three months went into funding her initial offering, including Bobby's bonanza of a pool party. It's risky, tying my business's success to someone else's start up when I'm not even out of the woods of the first shaky five years.

Especially now, considering the stakes of what I have planned this afternoon.

But it's been a long time since I let myself do anything I really believe in. For damn good reason—my genes are trash and my instincts mostly are, too. If I'm going to really let myself off the leash after all this time, I might as well go double or nothing.