lingerie
for women willing to spend extra money for real quality, comfort, and
satisfaction. If you’ll look at my tax documents there, I think
you’ll see that with the little time I was able to give it
before, it still brought in an impressive return. Now that I’m
expanding my business and focusing on it full time, I should be able
to show even higher profits. But in order to do that, I do need help
to start. If you’ll take a look at the timeline I included with
my application, I think you’ll see that even a conservative
estimate of the current market shows that—”
“That won’t be necessary,”
he said, flipping it closed. “Morningstar will not be accepting
your application for a loan. There’s simply not enough
guarantee of a return on the investment. I don’t know if you’ve
noticed, miss, but women’s underwear is available from a wide
variety of locations.”
“But not like this!” I
tried to explain desperately. “This is hand-sewn, using the
finest materials, tailored to the body and tastes of each individual
client—”
“Which only ups the cost of your
product,” he said, punting the file towards his wastebasket.
“How can you hope to compete in the marketplace?”
“I’m not trying to compete
with a Walmart blue light special!” I snapped. “I’m
trying to create a luxury product, in a brand-new field with barely
any other competition right now! If you could just get me in at the
ground floor—”
“I’m sorry, miss,” he
said, not sounding even remotely sorry. Sorry was a foreign country
to this guy. Sorry was another goddamn planet. “Your sales are
too small, and you have nothing to back the loan.”
“But—” I spluttered.
He waved a hand at me dismissively.
“You’re a bad bet, and one this bank will not be taking.
But we cordially thank you for choosing Morningstar for your
banking—”
“Frack Morningstar!” I may
have shouted on my way out the door, which, okay, yes, I may have
slammed. Except ‘frack’ might have actually exited my
mouth in the form of a slightly harsher word, I can’t quite
remember. My brain was a little cloudy at that moment.
SIX
Thankfully, even in the toughest of
times, we can always count on the support and understanding of our
family.
…are you done laughing now? I
know, I know, I’m hilarious, but I think I really outdid myself
with that one.
I shouldn’t be too hard on my
folks. They love me, I know—they just don’t take me
seriously. And there are some days where I seriously debate whether
I’d be willing to trade one of those things for the other.
But anyway, I guess it was mutual,
because I didn’t really understand them either. I didn’t
get why they always had to be as formal and stuffy as if they were
accepting a Medal of Honor when they were just walking the dog,
getting their hair cut, or going out to dinner. I didn’t get
why they were so obsessed with appearances, never going out the door
without a final check to make sure that a single hair hadn’t
drifted out of place or a single strand hadn't come loose from their outfit.
And I definitely didn’t get how they were so afraid of taking
risks they wouldn’t even try a new brand of salad dressing.
Yeah, I loved them right back, but for
all I understood them, they might as well have spent their entire
lives speaking to me in an obscure Baltic dialect. So I might just
have been able to forgive them for not understanding me except for—
“Oh Brian, darling, that is just
simply marvelous! Did you hear that, Katherine! Brian’s
supervisor told him that his work on the Dunsinane project was
‘definitely his most competent work this week!’ Isn’t
that so exciting?!”
--that.
I looked around the restaurant, hoping
for something to distract me so I wouldn’t have to hear my
parents drooling over my brother like he was an extra-rich tiramisu
with double fudge sauce on top. It was a classy joint, because heaven
forbid you ever catch my
for women willing to spend extra money for real quality, comfort, and
satisfaction. If you’ll look at my tax documents there, I think
you’ll see that with the little time I was able to give it
before, it still brought in an impressive return. Now that I’m
expanding my business and focusing on it full time, I should be able
to show even higher profits. But in order to do that, I do need help
to start. If you’ll take a look at the timeline I included with
my application, I think you’ll see that even a conservative
estimate of the current market shows that—”
“That won’t be necessary,”
he said, flipping it closed. “Morningstar will not be accepting
your application for a loan. There’s simply not enough
guarantee of a return on the investment. I don’t know if you’ve
noticed, miss, but women’s underwear is available from a wide
variety of locations.”
“But not like this!” I
tried to explain desperately. “This is hand-sewn, using the
finest materials, tailored to the body and tastes of each individual
client—”
“Which only ups the cost of your
product,” he said, punting the file towards his wastebasket.
“How can you hope to compete in the marketplace?”
“I’m not trying to compete
with a Walmart blue light special!” I snapped. “I’m
trying to create a luxury product, in a brand-new field with barely
any other competition right now! If you could just get me in at the
ground floor—”
“I’m sorry, miss,” he
said, not sounding even remotely sorry. Sorry was a foreign country
to this guy. Sorry was another goddamn planet. “Your sales are
too small, and you have nothing to back the loan.”
“But—” I spluttered.
He waved a hand at me dismissively.
“You’re a bad bet, and one this bank will not be taking.
But we cordially thank you for choosing Morningstar for your
banking—”
“Frack Morningstar!” I may
have shouted on my way out the door, which, okay, yes, I may have
slammed. Except ‘frack’ might have actually exited my
mouth in the form of a slightly harsher word, I can’t quite
remember. My brain was a little cloudy at that moment.
SIX
Thankfully, even in the toughest of
times, we can always count on the support and understanding of our
family.
…are you done laughing now? I
know, I know, I’m hilarious, but I think I really outdid myself
with that one.
I shouldn’t be too hard on my
folks. They love me, I know—they just don’t take me
seriously. And there are some days where I seriously debate whether
I’d be willing to trade one of those things for the other.
But anyway, I guess it was mutual,
because I didn’t really understand them either. I didn’t
get why they always had to be as formal and stuffy as if they were
accepting a Medal of Honor when they were just walking the dog,
getting their hair cut, or going out to dinner. I didn’t get
why they were so obsessed with appearances, never going out the door
without a final check to make sure that a single hair hadn’t
drifted out of place or a single strand hadn't come loose from their outfit.
And I definitely didn’t get how they were so afraid of taking
risks they wouldn’t even try a new brand of salad dressing.
Yeah, I loved them right back, but for
all I understood them, they might as well have spent their entire
lives speaking to me in an obscure Baltic dialect. So I might just
have been able to forgive them for not understanding me except for—
“Oh Brian, darling, that is just
simply marvelous! Did you hear that, Katherine! Brian’s
supervisor told him that his work on the Dunsinane project was
‘definitely his most competent work this week!’ Isn’t
that so exciting?!”
--that.
I looked around the restaurant, hoping
for something to distract me so I wouldn’t have to hear my
parents drooling over my brother like he was an extra-rich tiramisu
with double fudge sauce on top. It was a classy joint, because heaven
forbid you ever catch my
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