Free Power Play by Sophia Henry Page B

girl who can do no wrong.”
    “Ha. Hahahahahahaha.” I couldn’t help the madwoman laugh or I’d cry. Though his stereotype may have been spot-on for many families, he didn’t understand my family dynamic at all.
    “Guess I’m wrong.” Landon glanced at me before turning back to the road. “That’s a creepy laugh, girl.”
    “Sorry. My parents probably want your stereotype to be true of me, but it isn’t. The princess gene skipped me.”
    “So what’s the truth?”
    “Youngest. Only girl. Hates shopping and tiaras. I can do anything the boys can do.”
    “I see. You have middle-child syndrome, too. No one sees you as you are. Just what they think you should be.”
    “I can run all of our stores with my eyes closed while on vacation in Fiji. But Joey is there right now, fucking up the register, unable to perform credit card transactions, forgetting to make the bank run to deposit cash.”
    “I didn’t know you swore.”
    “I can do anything the boys can do.”
    “Touché.”
    “Three-one-three sucks right now. No one comes in.”
    “I resent that.”
    “I mean no one other than a few produce stand customers. It’s such a different concept, most of our regulars aren’t going to visit. We need a marketing plan. A way to reach out to a new group of clients.”
    “True. What have you guys come up with?”
    “Nothing! Papa doesn’t think we need marketing. He says the Bertucci name should be marketing enough.”
    “But your name isn’t on that store. There’s no way for someone to realize it’s your family.”
    “Exactly! Now try to explain that to Papa.” I snorted. “Actually,
can
you explain it to Papa? You’re a guy. He’ll believe you. I’ll go get my nails done.”
    Landon’s eyes darted to my hands. He smiled upon seeing my chipped manicure. “Sure. What’s your plan?”
    I blinked at him. “You really want to hear it?”
    “Yes. I know you run that store, Gaby. I’m excited to hear your plan to bring customers in.”
    “My advertising plan is sort of a secret right now, so if you could keep it on the down low, that’d be awesome.”
    Landon nodded, the nod of someone making fun of my request, but I didn’t mind.
    Discussing my grassroots marketing plan for the store with Landon felt conspiratorial. It had been a crazy pipe dream since before we even opened. I knew we’d need some kind of marketing to bring customers in, but Papa hadn’t agreed with me. He said the reputation of Bertucci Produce spoke for itself. Our loyal customers would come and they’d tell their friends.
    The only problem with his line of thinking was that we didn’t attach the Bertucci name to the store. Very few people, outside of a few regular customers whom we’d spoken with about the new concept, would connect 313 Artisans and Bertucci Produce. Sure, we’d had flyers made up to set next to our registers at the stores and at the stand, but who picks up flyers? People think it’s just junk advertising.
    And opening a store like 313 Artisans had been Mom’s lifelong dream, not a natural offshoot of Bertucci Produce. The store specialized in products created by local artists; everything from paintings and photographs to pottery and T-shirts. Some of our bestsellers were iconic photographs of Detroit landmarks past and present, like the Fox Theatre and Tiger Stadium. It made the entire extended Bertucci family proud to keep everything in the store completely local.
    “I’m trying to create the cheapest, but good quality, ad I can create because Papa won’t agree to any advertising funds, so I’d have to use my own money. My vision is to highlight the city since the store is all local goods, ya know? Maybe take a few pictures of landmarks. I’d love to get a local celebrity to endorse the store, but I certainly don’t have money for that. Don’t have money for a photographer either, so I need to figure out the camera I got for graduation.”
    “Can you take classes?”
    “I could, but I work