It's a Waverly Life (25 page)

“Anything else in that bag of tricks?” Nick said.

I set my glass on a bookshelf, then reached into the box and pulled out a wine bottle sack and six matching coasters that each said, “Girlfriends + Wine + Laughter = Fountain of Youth” in burgundy font.

Andie examined a tote bag while Ivy ran her fingers over a coaster. “Oh my God, I love these,” Andie said.

“So cute,” Ivy said.

Then I reached into my bag and pulled out a small box covered in blue and white striped fabric that said, “Stuff I’ll Never Use” in bright green lettering, as well as a small blue pillow that said “Dream” in white lettering.

“Ideally these will be bigger. These are just miniature prototypes.”

“Adorable,” Ivy said.

“You have anything in that box that’s
not
for chicks?” Nick said. “I mean, I love chicks, but I don’t want to be one.”

I walked in place. “Baby steps, my friend, baby steps.” I reached down and pulled out an eye mask for sleeping. It was light blue and said, “Tomorrow Will Be Better” in white font.

“This one’s also for you,” I said to Red.

He winked.

Ivy put the mask on. “How do I look?” Casey messed up her hair and kissed her forehead.

“Waverly, these are all great,” Andie said. “I’m really impressed.”

“Thanks, I have a bunch more ideas, but I haven’t had samples made yet.” I took a sheet of paper from my manila folder in the box and held it up. “Here’s a list of the other products. I was thinking I could use the tagline ‘Sometimes We All Need a Spoonful of Honey,’ just like on the back side of the Honey Notes.”

Everyone huddled together to read. In addition to everything I’d shown them, the list included compacts, cocktail napkins, sticky notes, toiletry bags, and oversize coffee mugs. Each came with a suggested saying, but the product line and colors would be mix and match.

“This is fantastic,” Ivy said.

“I agree,” Nick said. “Really, Waverly, these are cool ideas.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. And you know I’m in touch with my feminine side.”

“Just one of the many things that make you amazing.” I interlaced my hands in front of me and made eye contact with everyone in the room. “Last week I had a meeting about this idea with Smithers Publishing, the company that makes my Honey Notes.”

They all nodded.

“I was hoping they’d want to invest in the product line, maybe even help me open a store. There’s an open spot on Fillmore that would be perfect.” I glanced at Red, and he smiled.

“Waverly’s Honey Shop,” Ivy said softly, nodding slowly.

“And?” Andie said. “What happened?”

I frowned. “And they shot me down.”

“What?” Nick said.

“They shot me down.”

“They suck,” Andie said. “I hate them.”

“Why did they say no?” Ivy asked.

“They said it wouldn’t fit it into their product line.”

“Weak,” Nick said. “Very not amazing.”

Andie stood and held up an empty bottle. “I’m getting some more wine. Anyone else want some?”

Everyone raised a hand. Everyone but Red, who was drinking water.

“I’ll help you.” Nick stood up and followed her. A few moments later they returned with two bottles and filled everyone’s glasses. I cleared my throat to regain their attention.

“When the people at Smithers said no, I thought that would be the end of it. But after briefly wallowing in self-pity, I realized how much I believe in this idea, how excited I am about it.”

“It
is
a good idea,” Andie said.

“You
should
be excited about it,” Nick said. “Hell,
I’m
excited about it.”

“So…I’ve decided to do it on my own.
Here
.” I pointed to the floor. “My dear friends, you are looking at the future worldwide headquarters of Waverly’s Honey Shop.”

“Nice digs,” Nick said. “Does it have a gym?”

I laughed. “I’ve decided to launch the company on my own, at least online. But to do that, I’m going to need some help, which is why I’ve asked you here tonight.”

I looked at Nick, who at the moment was staring at Andie.

“Nick, will you help me build a website? Nothing fancy?”

“Piece of cake.”

Then I turned to Ivy. “Could you help with product shots, to make the selection look beautiful?”

She smiled. “I’d love to.”

“And Andie, the finance wiz. I was hoping maybe you could help me with the numbers side of things? Just until I figure that out on my own?”

“Why of course. I could do that in my sleep.”

“And one last thing,” I said, looking over at Red. “To make life a little bit easier for those who could use some help, I’m going to donate a portion of every sale to charity, ideally one for kids. Maybe you could facilitate some introductions?”

He tipped his head and smiled. “I’d be honored, Miss Waverly.”

I put my palms up and faced the rest of the group. “So you’re all in?”

Nick raised his glass. “One team, one dream.”

“Oh, and since the
Sun
canceled my column, I thought I could revive Honey on Your Mind as part of the site to—”

Ivy interrupted. “YES! I love that column!”

Andie raised her glass to her. “Now I know why Waverly likes you so much.”

“I could say the same about you,” Nick said under his breath.

I laughed. “As I was
saying
, adding the column could also help get the word out.” I bent down to pull a manila folder from the box, then opened it and removed a sheet of paper with a rough timeline. “I think if I power on this, with all your help, I should be able to launch the site in…about three months.”

They all nodded.

“Sounds reasonable,” Nick said.

I took a deep breath. “Great. Now before we get started, there’s just one more thing I have to do.”

“Passport?” Andie said.

“Check.”

“Credit card?” McKenna said.

“Check.”

“Okay, you’re good. That’s all you really need,” Andie said. We were standing outside McKenna’s black Land Rover at the international departures terminal at SFO.

“I can’t believe you’re going to Argentina,” McKenna said.

I held my palms up. “
Third time’s a charm
, right?”

Andie blew a bubble and popped it. “I thought it was
three strikes and you’re out
.”

McKenna elbowed her. “Filter.”

“Ouch,” Andie said.

I hugged them both. “I’ll e-mail you.” I reached for the handle of my suitcase and turned to go.

“
Vino
and
cerveza
,” Andie said.

“What?”

“That’s wine and beer, in Spanish. Make sure you remember how to say those two words, because you might need them if things don’t go so well.”

McKenna grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the car. “You need a time out.”

Andie laughed as McKenna dragged her away. “We love you!”

“I love you too!” I blew them a kiss and entered the airport.

Nearly twenty hours later, I was in Buenos Aires. It was barely eight in the morning when we landed, which was unfortunate given that the only thing in the world that I wanted to do at the moment was lie down and SLEEP.

Feeling like something the cat dragged in, I jumped in a cab and handed the driver the address of my hotel. It was located in the Recoleta neighborhood, which I sort of remembered from my previous trip way back when. I had a full day to get used to the time change and wander around the city before Jake’s team played the following evening. I also needed to figure out what in the world to say to him.

I squeezed the handle of the “Just Smile” Honey Tote I’d brought with me.

I could do this.

The first thing I did after I checked into my hotel was…pass out. I’d planned to go for a nice long run to wake myself up and explore the area, but who was I kidding?

When I woke up, it was nearly two o’clock, and for a moment I had no idea where I was. Then slowly it dawned on me.
I’m in Buenos Aires. Holy crap.
I dragged myself out of bed and took a shower, then got dressed and headed downstairs to check out the neighborhood.

Recoleta was quite charming, the tall, European-style apartment buildings adorned with flower-lined balconies. After a couple blocks I stumbled upon the center of the district, which was filled with cafés and bars and people. I spotted an empty bench near a patch of flowers and sat down. The air smelled like freshly cut grass. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes to enjoy it. Then I heard music and opened my eyes. A girl was playing the accordion about fifteen feet away from me, her instrument case laid open on the cement in front of her to collect tips. She was young but obviously very talented, and the gentle music floated through the air over the chatter of the people strolling by or sitting in one of the many cafés lining the main walkway. From what I could tell, everyone was drinking coffee, beer, or red wine. And no one seemed in a hurry.

I sat there for several minutes, people-watching and enjoying the beautiful music. Just sitting. And listening.

After a while I decided to call it a day. On the way back to my hotel I spotted an Internet café. I ducked inside to e-mail Andie and McKenna that I was safely on South American soil.

Then I saw a new e-mail in my inbox.

It was from Paul Bryson.

Dad?

My dad had never e-mailed me before.

I clicked to open the message.

To:
Waverly Bryson

From:
Paul Bryson

Subject:
I GOT THE INTERNET

HI WAVERLY, I AM ONLINE. BETTY GOT ME AN ACCOUNT.

LOVE,

DAD

Ah, Dad
.

Gotta love the ALL CAPS.

Gotta love Betty, too.

I woke up the next morning at the crack of…eleven. I took a hot shower, then did a time check to plan the day. Jake’s game was at seven, just a few hours away. I hoped I wasn’t about to humiliate myself in front of him…again. I’d had enough Waverly moments around this one guy to qualify for lifetime elite status in emotional faceplanting.

Around noon I left the hotel, ready to explore the Boca district. The famous part of the neighborhood is called El Caminito, which means “the little street.” True to its name, it’s just a few blocks long in each direction. The area is beautiful in a wonderfully unique way. All the buildings, most of them about two stories high, are painted a mix of bright colors, some with yellow doors and blue shutters, others topped by red roofs and sporting green windowsills and hot pink trim. Arts and crafts and handmade jewelry stands fill the cobblestone streets, most of which are off-limits to cars and lined by cafés, clothing and souvenir shops that sell everything from postcards and full-length leather coats to bottle openers in the shape of Eva Peron and Diego Maradona.

Adding an extra layer to the energy of El Caminito was the distinctive sound of tango. As I began my walk along the pathway, I heard music emanating from a tiny restaurant. I poked my head inside. Two professional dancers regaled the patrons, who cheered and clapped over bottles of wine and big baskets of bread that covered their long wooden tables. The interior had high ceilings and was much larger than I’d expected. Even though everyone was sitting close to each other, the place didn’t seem overcrowded, the dexterous waiters seamlessly darting in and out of the joyful crowd and looking like they were having as much fun as the tourists.

I watched the couple dance in perfect unison to the music, fascinated as much by their precision and physical beauty as by the woman’s ability not to trip in her stiletto heels. After a few minutes they took a break, so I kept moving and continued to explore the area, wandering in and out of shops and eventually arriving back to where I’d begun.

With a tinge of disappointment, I realized I’d finished walking the Caminito loop. I’d enjoyed the mental break from stressing about the real reason I was there, but I knew it was time to head back to the hotel.

What in the world am I going to say to him?

At six o’clock I left my hotel again, this time in a taxi for the basketball arena. I was so nervous that my hand was shaking as I handed the driver the piece of paper with the address. I was either the most romantic person alive or completely insane, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know which.

We drove past the Obelisco, the most famous landmark in Buenos Aires, which looks
exactly
like the Washington Monument. I remember reading somewhere that once a year the Obelisco is covered in a huge condom to promote safe sex. I can only imagine the right-wing outrage if Planned Parenthood tried a stunt like that in DC.

As we rolled along, I played with my earring, mentally rehearsing what I’d decided to say to Jake. It had been weeks since we’d had any contact at all. I’d thought a hundred times about e-mailing him, but given how complicated and messed up everything had become, it just didn’t seem…appropriate. I pressed my palm against my forehead.
Like flying halfway around the world—uninvited—is appropriate?

The cab stopped, jolting me out of my thoughts. I blinked and realized we had arrived. I paid the driver, then stepped outside to find the ticket line. I had no concrete plan for reaching Jake after the game was over, but I figured if I’d come this far, I’d find a way.

A little more than two hours later, the final buzzer buzzed, and the game was over. Jake’s team, Deportivo Libertad, had beaten its rival, Boca Juniors, by just two points, and the fans were going nuts. I was sitting in the home team section, so all around me people were hugging and crying. In the nearby Boca Juniors section, people were also crying, but they certainly weren’t tears of joy. Apparently people in Argentina take their sports seriously.

I kept my eyes peeled to the side of the court, where I’d spotted Jake late in the first half. He’d attended to several players throughout the action, most notably an enormous man who had apparently suffered an ankle sprain. He returned to the court after Jake quickly taped him up, so I guess Jake had done his job.

As the crowd thinned, I casually made my way toward the court. The security guards were focused on herding everyone through the exits, so I managed to blend in with a bunch of official-looking people moving toward the private hallway that led to the offices and locker rooms. I followed along and put my head down, hoping no one would actually
speak
to me. Then the jig would be, as they say, up. And I’d be, as they say, on the street.