Grant had taken pages and pages of notes from his hour-long talk with Taylor. A talk he’d realized within the first ten minutes would take weeks, maybe months, to adequately flesh out and understand.
“So, you can see here”—Taylor pointed to one of the several spreadsheets she’d brought over—“I have several revenue streams that I monitor at all times. That way, I can tell where I need to either concentrate or cut, change, whatever.”
They were sitting at a small desk in the basement that Faith used as an office, and he’d been cooped up there long before Taylor had come by, trying to figure out a better way of running the store so Faith could make a livable wage. And he’d realized a couple of important things.
The first was that if she wasn’t ready to give up something as intangible as judging an ice-carving contest, she sure as hell wouldn’t be ready to do what Grant really thought she ought to do, which was get rid of the store and do something she really loved. The second was, if she couldn’t do the first, she sure wouldn’t be open to the complexity of trying to continue a relationship with Grant.
The only bright spot was Taylor and this niche she’d carved out in what seemed to be a market that wasn’t only thriving, but growing.
Grant shook his head, still staring at the numbers on her spreadsheet. “Don’t take this wrong, Taylor, but, if I’m understanding this right, you make a shitload of money for talking about really stupid-ass shit.”
To Grant’s relief, Taylor laughed.
“That doesn’t bother me because you’re not my target audience,” she told him. “And my target audience finds pushing a three-inch disc of vulcanized rubber around an ice rink with a stick while brawling with a bunch of other guys some really stupid-ass shit.”
Grant grinned. “Good point.”
“If you use this as a template, you could, in theory, simply change the topics and have Faith film how-to segments the same way.” She leaned back. “For example, instead of a post about how to design your planner for maximum efficiency, Faith would create a post about how to design your garage workbench for maximum efficiency. And instead of posting links to all the pens, papers, stickers, and stamps I used in the process, she would do what you did with her Christmas lights video—ingenious and incredibly sweet, by the way—and link to all the wood, screws, nails, glue, tools, and paint she used to complete the process.”
Grant nodded, his mind spinning with ideas. Visions of how this could grow. “Okay. I see it.”
“Another category she could look into to build revenue streams and gain sponsors would be product reviews. For example, instead of my review on a new version of the Erin Condren Life Planner, Faith would review the newest version of the newly released DeWalt sliding miter saw.”
Grant nodded. “Yep. I get it.”
“Her blog posts will contain photos and videos that feed into all her social media outlets. In turn, all her social media posts will track back to her blog posts. And she’ll use a master link system that feeds all clicks through her affiliate links, so that no matter how a person finds their way to Home Depot or Lowes or wherever from her post, Faith will always be compensated for a sale.”
Taylor lifted her hand, index finger poised. “Now, once she has a following, she can start reaching out to companies to solicit advertising, sponsorships, and even partnerships. And if she wants to, she can create an online store where a person could go to buy everything they need to complete a project she’s demonstrated. She could even put together kits at cost and sell them at retail. Really, the sky is the limit here.”
“This is amazing.”
“She doesn’t even have to be an actress or have special equipment to produce these videos. As long as her space, presentation, and speaking are professional and easy to understand, she could use her phone to do it. Though, come to think of it, hers probably doesn’t have enough memory.”
“That’s okay. I’m leaving the camera, software, and laptop with her.”
“Really? She agreed to that?”
He looked over and found Taylor’s brows snapped together in disbelief.
“No.” He smiled, but it was subdued. “She doesn’t know it. I’m going to stuff them under her bed before I go. You get to be the bearer of that news.”
Taylor smirked. “Gee, thanks.”
“What are friends for?”
“But seriously, that’s incredibly sweet of you.”
Grant shook his head. In his world, that equipment cost less than his bar tab after buying drinks for the team when he’d been chosen MVP for the night. “I know she’d throw a fit if I tried to give it to her outright.”
“You got her figured out fast.”
He grinned. “She’s not exactly complicated. Proud, loyal, and mildly frustrating, maybe. But not complicated.”
Taylor’s smile was warm. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”
He closed his eyes on a laugh. “Fucking incredible.”
Taylor reached out and squeezed his forearm. The affectionate gesture told Grant he’d passed the best-friend test. He only wished that was the biggest of the roadblocks facing him and Faith.
“Actually, the most popular tutorials are those that relate to the average Joe,” Taylor said. “And as you can see by the popularity of the segment you put up for her, her looks and sweet personality will be as big a hit on camera as they are in town.” She propped her elbow on the desk and rested her head in her hand. “Now, let’s talk about exactly how you got that video to shoot up in the views so fast.”
He lifted his brows. “You just said—”
“Uh-uh.” She made a cutting gesture in the air between them. “You’re talking to the expert here. I know that video had help. I want to know what it is.”
“Don’t tell Faith.”
“Can’t promise.”
He sighed. “Okay, don’t tell her right away. Let her have the excitement for a little while. She needs a little hope in her life.”
“Wow.” Taylor shook her head. “You’re almost too good to be true.” She narrowed her eyes. “If I find out you’re married, I’m going to hunt you down and cut off your balls.”
“Whoa.” He laughed the word and put his hands up. “I’m not married.”
She pointed at him. “You’ve been warned. All right, dish.”
“I posted the video, then sent an email to all the guys on the team and asked them to share it on social media.”
“Oh.” Taylor’s eyes glazed over as thoughts churned in her head. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re a freaking marketing genius too?” More narrow-eyed looks. “I’m watching you.”
“I have been warned,” he echoed, smiling. “So, everything we just talked about gets you here?” Grant tapped the mid-six-figure number at the bottom of Taylor’s income sheet for the prior year.
“It does. Isn’t that crazy?”
“Why didn’t she do this a long time ago? When she saw it was working for you, why didn’t she start doing it then?”
“Her dad was pretty old-fashioned. Believed business should be between two people, face-to-face, and she didn’t want to upset him. Besides, she had too much going on. This is a serious time suck, one that doesn’t immediately pay off, and she was taking complete care of her dad and running the store. Toward the end, her father had to get angry for her to finally allow Hospice to come once a day.”
Grant dropped back in his chair, blew out a long breath, his gaze on the papers that signified limitless opportunities for Faith. A chance at the freedom she should have had in life.
“God, I’m so damned excited about this for her.”
“Right? I’m really excited you got her started. Between the store, my work, and Caleb, we’ve both been so busy, we haven’t been able to work out a time to get it together. Again, this is no Holy Grail in marketing. No perfect system. And there’s a huge amount of work involved, not to mention an incredibly steep learning curve. The results yielded are based on the work put in—”
“You get amazing results.”
“Because I’ve already climbed those mountains. So, I will be doing my best to cut her learning curve into a very flat plateau.”
Grant nodded, but his brain kept repeating: “And she can do it from anywhere.”
His cell rang. He reached for his back pocket. “Hope that’s Faith. She was going to call when she was ready to put up the tables.” But it wasn’t. He glanced at Taylor. “My agent.”
“Oh, okay.” She stood. “We’re done. I’ll get all this from Faith later.”
Grant stood too. “Thanks so much. Faith’s lucky to have such a great friend.”
Once Taylor climbed the basement stairs, Grant answered, “Hey, Nick.”
“Hey, how’s Twisted Christmas?”
That was only one of his agent’s nicknames for Grant’s hometown. But Grant wasn’t in the mood for Nick’s wry humor. “Did they clear me?”
“Not yet.”
He was both frustrated and grateful. “Why not? This is taking freaking forever.”
“Danbar’s on vacation in the Caribbean.”
Doctor Danbar was the last signature Grant needed on his release forms. “Fucking A.” He threaded his hand into his hair. “This is ridiculous.”
“Relax. He’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ve already talked to Max,” Nick said, referencing the team’s manager. “You’ll go right back to first line when you hit the ice. Hey, I’ve got something that will cheer you right up—the perfect way to get you out of that backward little Christmas town and into a place where we know how to do it right.”
Grant squeezed his eyes closed and dropped his hand. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re going to a special event at the sight of the National Christmas Tree and the VIP After-Party hosted by the National Park Foundation. Ted made a big donation to the Foundation this year,” he said, referring to the Rough Riders’ owner, Theodore Hennessey, “and he and Fiona are in France for the holiday. So he’s sending you, Croft, Savage, Donovan, Hendrix, Andrade, and Lawless to represent the team. This is an awesome photo op for you to get your face back into the light after being out eight weeks.”
“Ah, wow, Nick…” His chest tightened. His skin crawled. “You know, I don’t—”
“They’re putting special lights on the tree, selling gourmet hot cider, hot chocolate, roasted chestnuts, shit like that. They’ve even got Giselle Diamond singing Christmas carols. Can you believe that? I mean, I guess I can. She’s a huge proponent of charity, and the proceeds benefit the US Sports Foundation. I’m sure when she heard that, she jumped on board. And, evidently, the president’s daughters are huge Diamond fans.”
This just kept getting worse. “The president is going to be there?”
“It’s his Christmas Tree. In front of his house. But he’s just showing his face to raise his numbers in the polls. There will be other local celebrities there and a portion of the donations will go directly to the US Hockey Foundation…”
Fuuuuck. Grant dropped his head back. He was all for charity. Sometimes felt like he participated in more charity events than hockey games. But this one day, he really wanted to spend with Faith.
“Nick—“ Grant tried to break in.
“I’ve already got all of you guys the hottest dates on the planet. You can thank me later. You’re escorting Bridgette Ferreira.”
Grant winced. Bridgette was okay, and if he hadn’t met Faith, he’d be happy to return to the sheets with the model-turned-broadcaster, but now…no. The only woman he wanted in his sheets was Faith.
“The event is, of course, tomorrow,” Nick said, “and since you’re in Nowhere, USA, I had to book you a crazy flight schedule to get you out of Twisted Christmas and into DC in time for the event. You’re leaving tonight.”
“Just hold on.” Grant rubbed a hand over his face and started to pace. “Remember why I’m here in the first place? Ted was the one busting my ass about spending too much time with women like Bridgette. Ted was the one who forced me to choose something ‘meaningful’ to do with the rest of my rehabilitation time. So, I’m here, doing that. He can’t just wiggle his nose like a fuckin’ witch and bring me back to DC whenever he wants.”
“Uhhh, yeah. He can. He pays your salary. These events are in your contract. I thought you’d be offering to name your firstborn after me when I gave you the news.”
Grant dropped his head back and glared at the ceiling. Noooooooooooo!
“I’m here for the kids, Nick. I don’t want to bail on them.” It was true, but he was picturing Faith in his mind. “This is charity too. I’m bringing in a lot of money for my high school team. Just tell him I can’t make it and pick someone else.”
“Dude,” Nick said in his what-the-fuck-do-you-mean-no? tone. “What’s wrong with you? It’s Christmas and all the other guys just finished five fucking grueling away games. One of the reasons Ted chose you guys is because all of you either live locally in DC or don’t have kids. And may I stress Ted chose you.”
Which translated to Go if you want another offer when your current contract runs out.
Grant hung his head. “Right, sorry. My parents are making me crazy. And I promised these kids—”
“This isn’t negotiable. This is contractual. And if you’re not on that plane, you’re in breach of that contract. All you’ve got to do is be seen, get that pretty face on the news tomorrow night at the event. Sign some autographs and get a few photos with celebrities at one of the parties you go to while you’re in town. Make Ted happy. Ticket’s in your email.”
