Razor Sharp

January 2013.

It had been a full week since I spent Christmas Day building the business model with Claudia. True to her word, the second New Year's Eve passed, she officially handed in her resignations. I knew she was absolutely terrified to let go of her guaranteed income—especially with her family relying on her—but she stayed incredibly brave and true to her promise.

I refused to let her leap of faith be in vain. For that entire week, while she was finishing out her final shifts, I spent my time working out at the loft and aggressively cold-calling the top five potential clients on Andrew’s list.

Thankfully, the hustle paid off. Mr. Wang, a restaurant owner who owed the Russians a few favors, agreed to a sit-down meeting. I hadn't told Claudia yet. I wanted to surprise her with a tangible victory on her very first official day of working for our new agency.

Bzzt! Bzzt!

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

"What’s up, Clau?"

"Good morning, Daeron."

"Ahhh, right. Good morning. That’s the mandatory password, huh?" I smirked, leaning against the kitchen island.

She giggled. "A proper professional greeting is necessary, Cap’n."

"So, once again, what’s up? Are you coming over to the loft today?"

"Yup. I’m actually walking through your fancy lobby right now."

"Wait, what? You walked all the way from campus in the freezing snow? Why didn't you text me?! I would have driven over and picked you up!"

"Well, you can pick me up at your front door, mister. I'm getting in the elevator," she teased.

I pushed off the counter, walking toward the entryway. "Alright, ma’am. It will be an honor to greet you."

She laughed. "See you in a second."

Click.

A minute later, I pulled the heavy metal door open for her. We immediately relocated to the mini-library—which we had officially designated as our temporary corporate headquarters—armed with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

"So. I have some great news for us," I smirked, crossing my arms and leaning against the bookshelf.

"What is it? Stop teasing me!" she demanded, playfully nudging my side.

I chuckled, unable to hide my pride. "Well... we are officially meeting with our first prospect soon."

Her dark eyes blew wide open, her jaw dropping slightly. "Are you serious?! You already secured a prospect?!"

I nodded. "Yup!"

"Oh my God!!! That’s incredible!!!" The exhaustion of the past year was completely gone, replaced by a fierce, brilliant energy. She immediately grabbed the laptop, pulling it toward her lap. "Who’s the client? What’s his business profile? Did he say something on the phone that we should take notes on before the pitch?"

"Whoa, whoa, chill out!" I laughed, putting my hands up. "That is our exact mission for today. We are going to profile the target."

"Then move your ass! Scoot over here beside me! We need to profile him right now!" she ordered, her fingers already hovering over the keyboard like a weapon.

"Yes, ma’am!"

We spent the next hour breaking down the client. Mr. Wang was the owner of a popular, small-scale local restaurant. Based on the intelligence notes Andrew had provided, his business was highly successful but ran with a very traditional, old-school approach. He hadn't talked much about his financials over the phone; he was old-fashioned and preferred to evaluate his business partners face-to-face. He had given me the freedom to choose the meeting date, as long as it was during the first week of January.

"Yep, I think that’s all the intel I gathered on him so far," I said, leaning back onto the floor cushion.

"Hmm. Let me pull up his business on Google Maps and check out the physical scale of the restaurant," she murmured, her eyes darting across the screen. "You should call him back right now and lock in the meeting for tomorrow afternoon, Daeron."

I leaned forward, studying her face. "Are you sure? That's really fast. Are you ready for this?"

She stopped typing and squinted at me with a fierce, unwavering determination. "I am always ready for war, Cap’n. How about you?"

I smirked, feeding off her confidence. "Let’s do it. I’ll make the call." I paused as a thought crossed my mind. "Wait. Let’s go to the mall after this. I'll buy us some sharp new professional outfits for tomorrow."

She slowly turned her head toward me. The warm excitement instantly vanished, replaced by a sharp, defensive glare. "Daeron... do you think I don’t have a proper outfit for a business meeting?"

"Errr…. I mean... no, I just wanted to—" I stammered, immediately realizing I had stepped on a landmine. I just wanted to treat her to something nice, but to her, it sounded like I was calling her poor.

"I have a professional wardrobe too, you know! Jeez!" she huffed, crossing her arms protectively over her chest and looking away.

"Oookay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that..." I backpedaled, raising my hands in surrender and silently cursing my own stupidity.

She pouted, her eyes fixed stubbornly on the laptop screen. "Then go call the client."

"Yes, ma’am."

I retreated into the hallway to make the call. Thankfully, Mr. Wang was available to meet up the very next afternoon. After Claudia finished digitally scouting his restaurant's foot traffic, the only thing left to do was prepare our pitch. We were going into battle, and we were one hundred percent ready.

*

The next afternoon, I went into full preparation mode for the meeting. First impressions in business are everything, especially with traditional, old-school owners. I dressed in a sharp, semi-formal uniform: a tailored dark grey blazer layered over a crisp, ironed white shirt. I paired it with dark slacks, a polished black leather belt, and my favorite watch. I threw on my winter trench coat and finished it with a light spray of my signature citrus cologne.

I checked my reflection in the hallway mirror. Professional, sharp, and put-together. I’m ready for war.

I grabbed my keys and drove straight to Claudia’s campus dorm. When I pulled up to the front gate, I shot her a quick text letting her know I was idling outside, adding a reminder to make sure she had the blank B2B contracts in her bag so we could close the deal today.

A few minutes later, the heavy dormitory doors swung open. Claudia walked out.

My eyes went completely wide. My jaw literally dropped open as I watched her walk toward the car.

She pulled the passenger door open, sliding into the leather seat with a bright, confident smile. "I’m ready, Daeron!"

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING?????" I yelled, my voice cracking in sheer panic.

"Huh?" She blinked, looking down at herself in confusion. "What’s wrong with my outfit?"

"OH MY GOD!!!!!" I slapped my hand over my face, aggressively pinching the bridge of my nose.

It was an absolute, unmitigated disaster. She was wearing a thick plaid flannel shirt, layered underneath a bright, knitted Christmas sweater. And if the top half wasn't bad enough, she had paired it with flared, vintage bell-bottom trousers and a pair of scuffed-up street sneakers.

"Clau! We are going to meet a client, Clau!! Not a 1970s retro holiday party!!"

She giggled awkwardly, her cheeks turning bright pink as she pulled at the hem of her Christmas sweater. "Well... honestly, this was the cleanest set of clothes I had left in my wardrobe. Is it really that bad?"

"Jesus Christ!!" I looked at my watch. We only had twenty minutes left before the meeting. There was no time to turn around. I pointed a firm finger at her. "Look at me. Next time, you CANNOT argue with me when I offer to buy you a professional outfit!"

"But—"

"No, no, no, no!! You cannot argue! This is a business expense! We cannot risk our agency's reputation! If we walk into a restaurant looking like this, the clients are going to think we’re a traveling hippie commune! Do you understand?"

She nodded sheepishly, properly scolded, and slumped down into the seat.

"Good!" I let out a massive, heavy exhale, putting my hands back on the steering wheel. "It is what it is. Let’s just go meet Mr. Wang and hope your math distracts him from the bell-bottoms."

Before putting the car in gear, I quickly snatched my phone from the center console, opened the camera, and snapped a flash photo of her sitting there in her Christmas sweater.

"Perfect. Now I have the photos to mercilessly roast you with later," I smirked, locking the phone.

"Oh, you evil bastard!!!!" she gasped, her embarrassment instantly turning into playful rage as she aggressively nudged my shoulder with her little hand, pouting her lip.

I laughed out loud, the crushing pre-meeting tension completely evaporating from the car. "Alright, buckle up. Let’s go, Shaggy!"

She shook her head, crossing her arms, though she was clearly fighting a smile. "I promise you, Daeron, I am going to return that 'favor' when you least expect it!"

We drove straight to Mr. Wang's restaurant. Thankfully, the traffic was light, and we managed to arrive ten minutes before our scheduled slot. Not long after we stepped into the bustling dining room, an older, stern-looking man stepped out from the back. It was Mr. Wang. He greeted us with a firm handshake and gestured for us to follow him into his private back office.

After he offered us seats, I glanced at Claudia. She looked incredibly stiff, nervously fidgeting with her fingers under the wooden desk. I subtly reached over and gave her a reassuring squeeze to ground her before I started the show.

"Let me properly introduce us, Mr. Wang. My name is Daeron Ramondes, and this is my managing partner, Claudia Bianchi. You can just call us Daeron and Claudia, sir."

"Nice to meet you both," he replied, giving us a polite but evaluating nod. "And you are Andrew’s friends, correct?"

"Yes. As we discussed on the phone yesterday, I got your direct contact from him."

"Excellent. Do you happen to have a business card?" he asked, extending his hand.

Shit! Rookie mistake. "Unfortunately, our official business cards are currently at the printers, sir."

Mr. Wang immediately slumped back into his heavy leather chair, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. His eyes darted from my lack of a card to Claudia's bizarre hippie outfit. "I see."

Fuck. He just put his walls up.

"We will absolutely provide you with our cards as soon as they are ready, sir. Is that alright?" I tried to pivot smoothly.

"Yes, yes, yes," he brushed the excuse off, his tone noticeably colder and much flatter than before. "Let’s just talk about the business now."

"Absolutely," I said, leaning forward to reclaim the momentum. "Based on our last phone call, you were highly interested in our ‘New Year Package’, which includes Bookkeeping cleanup, 1099-MISC preparation, Sales Tax returns, and Q4 Estimated Taxes. We have already prepared the technical framework for your business; therefore, we just need to collect some raw data from you today."

Mr. Wang frowned, looking highly skeptical. "Hmm. Actually, looking at it now, I think I just need the estimated taxes."

Damn it. He's trying to back out of the main package.

"We can certainly do just that, sir," Claudia suddenly spoke up. Her voice was steady, seamlessly taking the reins from me. "But to calculate those estimates accurately without triggering an audit, we still need to know the total net profit from last year. And we need to know whether you paid 100% of the 2011 total tax in the previous year, or less."

"Why is that?" Mr. Wang asked, his thick eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Claudia calmly leaned forward and began to explain the complex financial logistics of tax penalties and safe harbor rules. Mr. Wang, testing her, started firing multiple, highly technical accounting questions at her. I sat back and watched. Her nervous posture had completely vanished. She was completely in her element. She was relaxed, her eye contact was piercing, and her voice was absolutely firm and sure of her answers.

Mr. Wang slowly began leaning forward again, completely drawn into the discussion. His skeptical, defensive expression melted away, replaced by genuine respect as he uncrossed his arms and placed his hands flat on the desk.

Claudia flawlessly matched his rising enthusiasm. She spun my laptop around, walking him through the customized accounting framework we had built on Christmas. She clearly explained the financial benefit of the full package and exactly why he needed it to protect his restaurant. Mr. Wang responded by nodding enthusiastically, his eyes locked between the glowing screen and Claudia.

"So, that’s exactly why we offer this as a complete package, sir," Claudia finished, flashing him a warm, brilliantly professional smile.

"I think you’re absolutely right about this, Claudia," he admitted, a look of profound relief on his face. He frowned slightly. "But, can you realistically finish it by next week? I already prepared my records in the physical books."

"Yes, that’s entirely possible. May I take a quick look at the ledgers first, if you don’t mind?"

"Sure, go right ahead." He smiled warmly, pulling a thick, heavy logbook from his desk drawer and handing it to her like a prized possession. "Oh, do you guys want some coffee while you work?"

"You don’t have to go through the trouble, Mr. Wang," I smiled.

"I’ll take that as a yes!"

Mr. Wang called his assistant to bring in a tray of coffee. While Claudia was laser-focused, rapidly flipping through the physical records and running calculations in her head, I stepped back in to handle the client relations. I made easy, mundane conversation with Mr. Wang to keep the room comfortable. We mostly talked about Andrew; I learned that Mr. Wang knew the Russian because Andrew was a regular who often used his connections to help the restaurant secure cheap ingredient supply lines.

After almost half an hour of total silence on her end, Claudia finally closed the heavy record book.

"Okay. I am confident we can finish this within a week, Mr. Wang," she announced.

"Really? That’s fantastic!"

"You really keep your records incredibly tidy, sir. It helps us a lot, actually."

"Thank you for noticing! I like my records in perfect order! But the reality is, writing it all down by hand every single night is a massive pain in the ass," he laughed, rubbing his tired eyes.

I immediately saw the opening for the strategic upsell we had discussed. "Oh, we can actually digitize all of this for you, sir! It will make your daily operations significantly easier. That way, you can just hand a clean digital file to your corporate CPA next year and completely avoid their $200-an-hour 'cleanup' fees."

"Digitize it? But I’m really not a tech person, Daeron," he said, holding his hands up defensively.

Claudia was already one step ahead. "Let me show you, sir. This is exactly how it looks and operates once it's digitized."

She spun the laptop back around, demonstrating the QuickBooks software interface. She bypassed all the complex jargon and explained it in simple, clear terms so Mr. Wang wouldn't feel intimidated.

"How do I make my messy records look like this?" His eyes were glued to the clean digital dashboard.

"We actually provide a premium service for digitization, sir. Our fee already includes the cost to buy and register the software license in your name, too," I explained.

"But won't it take you a massive amount of time to input a year's worth of data?"

"It does take time, but we can shortcut the manual process if you provide your bank’s .QBO files for all of 2012 straight from your internet banking login," Claudia explained.

"How on earth do I get that?"

"I’ll personally help you log in and download it right now, sir!"

"That works perfectly for me."

"Here is the contract, sir. You can read it over first. Once it’s signed, we will begin the digital migration right away," I said, pulling the printed B2B documents from my leather folder and placing them in front of him.

After reading it over for a few minutes, he picked up his pen and signed the bottom line without a single moment of hesitation. The contract was officially locked: $400 for the tax package, and a massive $1,000 for the digital migration and software.

"So, how much of an upfront deposit should I transfer to you today?" he asked, reaching for his checkbook.

I smiled, holding my hand up. "Because you are officially our very first client, you don’t have to pay an upfront retainer, sir. We will invoice you upon full completion."

He smiled widely, deeply appreciative of the trust, and offered his hand. I shook it firmly. "I will be waiting for the good news, Mr. Ramondes, Ms. Bianchi."

*

After we left the restaurant, we maintained our professional composure until we hit the parking lot. We practically sprinted the last few yards to my car. The second the heavy doors slammed shut, sealing us inside the quiet cabin, Claudia slumped heavily into the passenger seat and covered her face with both of her hands.

"What’s wrong?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

"We did it…." her voice was shaking violently behind her hands.

"Yes. You did it, Clau." I turned toward her, a massive, unstoppable smile breaking across my face. "You were absolutely fantastic in there. This is an incredible start. I am so fucking proud of you, Claudia."

She leaned over the center console and threw her arms around my neck, hugging me tight. "…Thank you…" she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears of pure relief.

I wrapped my arms around her small frame, holding her tight against me. As the electric adrenaline of the pitch finally began to fade, a sudden, acute awareness washed over me. I realized exactly how close we were. Her light, natural sandalwood scent drifted up to me—it was incredibly warm, grounded, and deeply calming. I just held her there, letting her safely release all the pent-up fear and stress she had been carrying for the past year.

"Let’s get back to our office, shall we?" I asked gently, my voice soft in the quiet car.

She slowly pulled away from my arms, taking a deep, shuddering breath. She gave me a sweet, radiant smile, her dark eyes shining with new life, and nodded.

"Great. Let’s get back to work, Shaggy."

She burst into bright, genuine laughter, aggressively shoving my shoulder. "You dork!!!"