Thirty-two

I folded my arms and stared with stark skepticism. Sydney didn’t flinch. Instead, she dropped her voice, along with her bulldozing bull.

“Look,” she said, “that debacle the other night did as much damage to my brand as yours. But I’ve devised a smart strategy that will save us both.”

She did sound sincere—if not entirely sane. “You’re here to save my business?”

“And mine. But we have to work together.”

“Please explain.”

“Right now, your Village Blend and my Cinder app are generating a lot of buzz—”

“Yes, bad buzz.”

“It’s bad,” Sydney agreed, glancing away. “But it’s also the kind of media exposure you can’t buy for any price. Which means we have to hack it—take control of the story and tweak it until it fits the narrative we want to tell.”

“That sounds vaguely dishonest.”

“Please.” She waved her hand. “All of advertising is vaguely dishonest.”

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this.”

“I respect that. But don’t you agree that the viral video and the news reports didn’t tell the whole truth?”

“Yes.”

“So why not tell everyone the whole story? Tell it our way? All you have to do is participate in this interview. You do not have to be dishonest in any way. Just follow my lead. This will benefit both of our brands. I promise.” Sydney locked eyes with mine. “We can turn this ship around if you’ll let me steer.”

My mind raced. Should I actually cooperate with these Silicon Alley Cyber-Sirens, or have Dante toss them into the street at the end of this so-called interview?

The latter option was far more appealing, but I wasn’t convinced it was the correct one. While I didn’t trust this arrogant girl-child or her streaming scheme—and frankly, her staff of Tinkerbells gave me the willies—I could see that Sydney was an ambitious woman who would employ every trick in her social network arsenal to save her own business. I also knew that she would execute her strategy with or without my consent or cooperation.

But if I’m on board her ship, I’ll at least have some control over the direction, right?

Madame once told me that getting through difficult times sometimes coupled you with bizarre bedfellows. This appeared to be one of those times. So . . .

Despite my misgivings, I mentally swiped right and accepted this Cinder match for the Village Blend, praying I wouldn’t end up ranting about this Horrible Hookup at Esther’s next poetry slam!

Turning to Dante, I asked him to serve coffee to our guests.

Sydney took my hospitality for assent, retrieved her electric smile, flashed that magic pinkie, and addressed the camera.

“As you know, The Heart of the Story is a weekly forum for sharing the experience of an Ella or Fella who’s found empowerment in taking control of their social life through our Cinder app. Well, today’s story is going to be a little different, a little disturbing. But the good news? It stars one awesome fairy godmother, and I promise there will be a happily ever after.”

Sydney laid her pale hand on my shoulder. “Most of you have seen the viral video featuring this legendary coffeehouse and this amazing woman . . .”

Accompanied by nods and gentle applause from her Tinkerbells, Sydney continued to chatter to her audience of heaven knew how many Ellas and Fellas.

Finally, she faced me and asked: “So tell us what happened here the other night.”

I briefly related the basic events to the camera. But Sydney did not look satisfied. “Surely, the story doesn’t end there!”

I blinked as the camera went for a tight focus of my face, and I’m pretty sure a deer in a pair of headlights would have looked less startled.

“You evacuated the upstairs lounge,” Sydney coaxed. “And now you’re alone with an armed individual and her victim. What did you do next? What’s the Heart of the Story?”

“Well, um, my main concern was getting my customers out of harm’s way. After that, I didn’t do much.”

“That’s not true!” Dante suddenly blurted. “She did way more than that!”

“Dante—”

“You did!”

Sydney’s expression lit up with glee. Then she twirled her magic finger and AJ, the digital photographer, spun with it. Now all eyes, including the camera’s, were focused on my artista barista.