Our Italian Summer - Jennifer Probst Page 0,1

my own drive, talent, and gut instincts to give clients what they need, twenty-four seven. I was the final say on everything for my company. Giving up that type of control made my skin prickle, like I was about to break out into hives. I’d heard horror stories of being pushed out by once-trusted partners and overruled on important decisions by lack of majority. What if Kate and Layla decided to team up and I found myself the odd woman out? Power sometimes had a funny effect on relationships. Did I really want to take such a chance? Even with these women I trusted and called friends?

I needed more time to think it through. Until then, I’d just push forward.

I shook my head and refocused. “Let’s get to work. We only have two weeks until the presentation. I’ve been looking over all the reports from the research department and there’s a few things we need to zone in on.”

Layla jumped in. “Lexi’s Lemonade is organic. That’s the main buzzword.”

“Exactly. Statistics show kids drive popular drink sales by pushing their parents to buy. We need to find a way to bridge the gap and get the children to beg mom to buy it.”

“And the moms need to feel good about giving in,” Kate added.

I brought up a picture of the label on my screen and tapped it with my fingernail. “Packaging is huge. The recycled box is earth-friendly and colorful. It needs to compete on the shelves with Capri Sun, Honest Kids, and the endless others. We need to find a unique inroad.”

“At least it tastes good,” Layla said. She pursed her red-painted lips. “Can you believe Kool-Aid still sells a shitload? Man, I loved that stuff growing up. And what a mascot. Genius.”

“Hmm, but I don’t think we want a mascot for this product,” I said. “We need to gain children’s attention with the ad, then slam it home that there’s low sugar and no preservatives. The double hook.”

“Shock value?” Layla threw out.

I nodded. “Possible, but not too much. I think funny.”

Kate cocked her head. “Kids nowadays are immune to shock value with YouTube and video games. I agree, funny may be the way to go.”

Layla groaned and opened up her email. “I’ll get Sarah started on kids’ comedy and what generates the most sales.”

“Good, let’s start throwing everything in the pot for possible scenarios,” I said. The rush of adrenaline warmed my blood as the challenge of a new creative account settled in. This was what I lived for, the elusive hunt for the perfect hook to please a client and sell the product. It never got old.

We started brainstorming and my phone vibrated. Glancing quickly at the screen, I noticed my mother had called twice without leaving a voice mail. I held back a groan. Typical. If I didn’t pick up, she just kept calling and refused to leave a message. Soon, a text came through.

Frannie, please call me. I have an important question.

Impatience flickered. She was always calling me with endless questions, from how to work the television remote to what movie to rent at Redbox to whether I’d read the latest article about coconut oil healing all ailments. Once, she’d called half a dozen times to tell me she had a thirty percent coupon at Kohl’s and didn’t want it to expire.

She’d never really respected my work or how far I’d come, still treating me like I had a disposable job that allowed me to leave when I wanted, relax on weekends, or delegate my work when I wished. Her constant refrains echoed through my mind.

I don’t understand. Aren’t you the boss? Why can’t you take some time off?

I grabbed my phone and typed out a text. Busy now. Call you later.

I got back to work and shortly thereafter Adam came in. His curly brown hair was a bit mussed, and sweat gleamed on his forehead. “We have a problem,” he announced, crashing down into the chair.

“You decided you’re too fancy to work on branding Lexi’s Lemonade,” Layla teased, used to Adam’s dramatics. The man was a bit over-the-top but a genius when it came to creating click-worthy social media campaigns.

“No. The IG ad for Dallas Jeans is tanking.” He slid his iPad down the table with it opened to the screen. “Consumers hate it. We need a rebrand.”

My heart rate rammed into a full gallop. I had no time for any failures that weren’t scheduled. “It’s still brand-new,” I said, glancing down at the ad.