Nicholas Sparks - Two by Two

“Vivian-”

“Why do you always have to take things so personally?” she demanded, cutting me off. “Why can’t you just be happy with me? It’s not like you’re perfect either, but you don’t see me coming in and complaining about the fact you can’t even support your family anymore.”

Her words made me flinch. What did she think I’d been trying to do all weekend? But she didn’t want an answer. Instead, she walked past me without a word, grabbed her workout bag and stormed from the house, the front door slamming behind her.

The sound must have awakened London, because she came down the stairs a couple of minutes later and found me sitting at the kitchen table. She was still in her pajamas, her hair puffing out on the side.

“Were you and Mommy fighting?”

“We were just talking,” I said. I hadn’t yet recovered from Vivian’s outburst and felt sick to my stomach. “I’m sorry if the door was too loud.”

She rubbed her nose and looked around. Even groggy, I thought she was the most beautiful little girl in the world. “Where is she?” she finally asked.

“She had to go to work, sweetie.”

“Oh,” she said. “Do I have tennis this morning?”

“Yes,” I said. “And art class with Bodhi. We have to remember to bring your hamsters.”

“Okay,” she said.

“How about a hug, baby girl?”

She came over and wrapped her arms around me, giving me a squeeze.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have Lucky Charms?”

I held my daughter close, thinking how much I’d needed a hug. “Of course you can.”

Taglieri wasn’t in the bleachers that morning; in his place, I saw a woman I presumed was ex number three because she walked past me with Taglieri’s daughter. I’m not sure what I expected-bleached blond hair, maybe-but she seemed to blend in well with the other mothers.

I brought my computer with the intention of rehearsing my presentation but I found it hard to concentrate. My mind kept circling back to the cutting words Vivian had spoken and while I may have worked all weekend, her reaction to it struck me as out of proportion and completely unfair. I wished again that I could make her happy, but I wasn’t, and her expression as I’d stood before her made that clear.

It wasn’t simply her anger at me that I’d witnessed, after all.

I’d also seen, and heard, her contempt.

“Are you okay?” Emily asked.

I’d walked into the art studio and London made a beeline toward Bodhi, holding Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles in their carry-cage. As I watched her, Emily must have seen something in my expression, but I didn’t want to tell her about Vivian and me. It seemed wrong somehow.

“I’m okay. It was kind of a rough morning.”

“I can tell,” she said. “How can we turn that frown upside down?”

“I have no idea,” I answered. “A million dollars might help.”

“Can’t do that,” she said, “but how about a Tic Tac? I think I have some in my purse.”

Despite my mood, I cracked a grin. “I’ll pass. But thanks.”

“We’re still on for today, right? Bodhi’s been talking about it since he woke up.”

“Yeah, we’re on.”

“Are you ready for your presentation?”

“I hope so,” I said. I shifted the laptop from one hand to the other, thinking it felt strangely heavy. “Actually, I’m more nervous than I thought I would be. Taglieri would be my first client, and I haven’t had a chance to even rehearse my pitch yet. When I was at Peters, there was always someone around who’d listen.”

“Would it help if you ran through it with me? I know I’m not in advertising, but I’d be happy to lend an ear.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t. I’m volunteering. I have some free time. And besides, I’ve never heard an advertising pitch before. It’ll be a new experience for me.”

Though I knew she was offering to be nice, I felt the need to go over it, if only so I wouldn’t continue to replay the argument.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll owe you.”

“You already owe me. Playdate, remember? Not that I’m keeping score.”

“Of course not.”

We strolled to the coffee shop, got our drinks and sat at a table. First, I walked Emily through a few slides on the PowerPoint that spoke to the power of advertising, another few slides showing breakdowns of advertising dollars in the legal world, and still more that profiled a few other legal firms in Charlotte, and their estimated revenues. From there, the presentation emphasized the power of using a broader advertising strategy, across multiple platforms, to increase awareness, and a mockup of the kind of user-friendly and up-to-date website that would be far more effective. I then showed a sampling of various legal commercials, along with Taglieri’s, emphasizing the lack of differentiation. Finally I went over the slides that showed how I could not only create an overall advertising campaign-and film three commercials-but also save him money.

She pointed to the computer. “Do you always do this much work beforehand?”

“No,” I said. “But I think this is the only shot I’ll have with this guy.”

“I’d hire you.”

“You haven’t seen the commercials yet.”

“You seem more than competent already. But, okay, show me.”

I took a deep breath and showed her the outline for the two commercials I’d be pitching, the first somewhat similar to what he was already doing.

My idea was to open with two photographs of auto accidents, a photo of a construction site, and another of a warehouse. Off screen, Taglieri is speaking: “If you’ve been injured in an accident or on the job, you need help from an expert.” Taglieri appears next, walking slowly in front of the courthouse, wearing a cardigan and addressing the camera.

“My name is Joey Taglieri and my specialty is helping people who are injured. It’s what I do best, and I’m on your side. Consultations are free and there’s no cost until I get you the money that you deserve. I’ve won millions of dollars for my clients, and now I want to help you get your life back. Let me fight for you. Call…”

There was a toll-free number followed by I-N-J-U-R-E-D, and Emily furrowed her brow. “I like that he’s outside and not in an office,” she offered.

“It makes him more approachable, don’t you think? I also wanted to make sure the phone number was memorable.”

“And you said you have a second commercial?”

I nodded. “This one has a different feel,” I offered.

It opened with everyday images of Charlotte-both places and people-while Taglieri spoke off camera in a calm voice.

“Welcome to another day in the Queen City. Tourists come to experience the sights and sounds and smells, but our best attractions aren’t our barbecue, or our racetrack, or our sports teams, or our lakes and trails, or our skyline. It’s our people. Our community. Our friends and families and coworkers and neighbors who make this place feel like home. And when one of them is injured on the job, a stranger at an insurance company, maybe someone who can’t even find Charlotte on the map, will do everything he or she can to deny coverage, even if lives are ruined in the process. To me, that’s just plain wrong.”

From there, the camera shifts to Taglieri, wearing a shirt and tie, but no jacket.

“I’m Joey Taglieri, and if you’ve been injured and need some help, give me a call. After all, we’re neighbors. I’m on your side and we’re in this together.”

When it was finished, I tapped the keyboard, shutting down the screen. “What do you think?”