Trade Secrets (A fun, contemporary romance about the cutthroat love business)

Kali Esposito, matchmaker extraordinaire, couldn’t be happier that Love, Inc., the relationship management service she created with best friends, Syd and Zahra, is back in business. After a brief setback, the girls are once again using their skills to help the lovelorn break-up, make-up or take-up with someone new.

Fun, flirtatious Kali is a little gun shy about commitment—no big surprise when your mom’s racked up four divorces and your dad’s permanently AWOL—but she’s a diehard romantic when it comes to bringing others together, and her end-to-end makeovers can transform the most socially-challenged client into a confident charmer. The Kali Method she develops is helping Love, Inc. grow by leaps and bounds.

But when a competitor steals the Kali Method and corrupts it to turn regular guys into wicked players, Kali is forced to rethink her views on love, and come up with a plan to reclaim Love, Inc.’s trade secrets before every girl in Austin gets her heart broken.

To learn more about Yvonne and Sandy and their books, please visit their websites:

www.collinsrideout.com ♥ www.loveincbook.com

Copyright © 2011 Yvonne Collins and Sandy Rideout

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the authors’ imaginations or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

Smashwords Edition

Chapter 1 ♥ Chapter 2 ♥ Chapter 3 ♥ Chapter 4 ♥ Chapter 5 ♥ Chapter 6 ♥ Chapter 7 ♥ Chapter 8 ♥ Chapter 9 ♥ Chapter 10 ♥ Chapter 11 ♥ Chapter 12 ♥ Chapter 13 ♥ Chapter 14 ♥ Chapter 15 ♥ Chapter 16 ♥ Chapter 17 ♥ Chapter 18 ♥ Chapter 19 ♥ Chapter 20 ♥ Chapter 21

About the Authors ♥ Also by the Authors

Excerpt: Love, Inc.

Bonus Material

Excerpt: Girl v. Boy ♥ Excerpt: The Black Sheep ♥ Excerpt: Introducing Vivien Leigh Reid: Daughter of the Diva ♥ Excerpt: Now Starring Vivien Leigh Reid: Diva in Training ♥ Excerpt: The New and Improved Vivien Leigh Reid: Diva in Control

Caleb reaches across the table, takes both my hands in his, and says, Kali, I—

A parrot’s squawk cuts him off. It’s the ringtone I share with my best friends, Sydney Stark and Zahra Ahmed-MacDuff. Since Zahra is in the kitchen preparing the next course of the amazing dinner she’s cooking for Caleb and me, obviously Syd’s the one calling. I try to reach for my phone, but Caleb won’t release my hands.

In a minute, the squawking stops. But then it starts again. This time the phone rings twice, stops, and then rings once. It’s a Love, Inc. 911.

That’s Syd, I say. I need to call her back.

Caleb squeezes my hands. Can’t it wait? It’s Valentine’s Day.

He’s right. It’s rude to take calls during dinner anytime, but on Valentine’s Day, when you’re sitting across from one of the cutest guys in the world, it’s more like a sin.

Syd tries once more but I resist, smiling to let Caleb know he’s more important to me than a phone call. I haven’t always been this serious about building a relationship, but it’s a priority for me now and I’m making good progress.

The squawking starts in the kitchen as Syd tries Zahra. Two rings. Stop. One ring. Zahra doesn’t pick up either, so Syd cycles back to my phone. Her next move could be my home number. Then Mom or my brother, Brody, might ask questions.

Caleb connects the squawks. Is this about that business you were running?Questions like those.

Business? I ask, playing for time.

The business that got you so grounded we’re spending Valentine’s Day in your Mom’s dining room? he says.

That ended ages ago, I say. Besides, Zahra’s dinner is better than anything we could get in a restaurant anyway, right?

He spears the piece of steak I left on my plate and chews. So what did you guys do to get in this much trouble? Weren’t you just matchmaking for money?

Mostly, I say. Plus we did a bit of couples’ counseling, helped a few people through some nasty breakups. Nothing major.

Since Caleb goes to a different school and moves in different circles, he hasn’t heard every last detail about Love, Inc., the business Zahra, Sydney and I started six months ago. The stories circulating about our exploits are wildly exaggerated, although we did pull off a couple of impressive revenge slams on people who’d committed crimes against love. It was one of those slams that attracted parental attention and led to the demise of our business five months later.

I should come clean with Caleb, but I’m worried it will set us back. A new relationship is like an iridescent soap bubble: beautiful and fragile. One wrong move can leave you splattered with sticky soap scum.

Mom will set me loose soon, I say. I got my e-privileges back, so it’s just a matter of time.

He leans across the table to gaze at me. Well, then. Where were we?

Zahra’s phone squawks again and Brody’s voice rises in the kitchen. He knows all about Love, Inc. and he’s obviously not thrilled that Zahra, his girlfriend, is getting 911s.

The phone falls silent and by sheer force of will, I focus on Caleb’s gorgeous blue eyes, which look violet against his fitted, purple shirt. His dark hair looks artfully unruly, although it’s natural, and his skin is brown from working at his parents’ garden center. We just passed the ten-week mark in our relationship, which means he’s outlasted all my previous boyfriends. There have been quite a few. I consider myself a thrill of the chase sort of girl. I keep relationships short and sweet so that they never have a chance to get stale—or worse, bitter. That attitude must come from Mom, who’s been divorced four times. But unlike her, I want to evolve. Love, Inc. will rise again, and when you’re in the business of advising people about romance, it helps to look competent yourself. That’s why I told Syd and Zahra I’d use our downtime to master the basics of a mature relationship.

People in mature relationships don’t get hung up on the small stuff, like the chunk of steak now blackening Caleb’s front tooth. People in mature relationships remember they’re not perfect themselves—although I look pretty perfect tonight. I’m wearing a dress in my signature green that defies the old rule about showing off either your legs or your cleavage. Hiding your best assets seems stupid to me. Why hold back in life?

Caleb tries again. Kali, I’ve been trying to tell you that I—

—want to go out on a real date? I interrupt.

I sense he’s trying to drop the L-bomb and I don’t want to hear it. It’s too early, and besides, my cheating ex-boyfriend, Eric Skinner, has crept into my mind. The parrot ringtone probably triggered my Post Traumatic Douche Disorder, or PTDD. Eric used to take me on safaris to find the elusive green-and-blue Quaker parrots that nest around Austin. It felt special, until I found out that chasing parrots was his shtick with other girls, too.

The saddest thing about getting played is that you can end up sitting across from an amazing guy on the most romantic night of the year with rejection clinging to you like a bad smell. No matter how hard you try to boost your confidence the situation reeks.

Caleb’s nasal passages must be blocked, because he persists. I want to—

The cell squawks its 911. This time I pull my hands out of his and lunge for the phone. Sorry, I say, ignoring the disappointment on his face. I’ll just be a sec. Excusing myself, I head into the kitchen. Oh my God, Syd.

What’s going on? Syd asks on the other end of the phone.

Zahra’s making out with my brother, that’s what’s going on, I say.

In fact, Zahra is standing at the stove stirring a simmering pot of cherry sauce while my brother nuzzles her neck. She’s wearing a stained blue apron and her hair is in a single long, red braid but she looks beautiful and serene.

Anyone in flames? Syd asks. Zahra set a tablecloth alight during a romantic dinner with Eric Skinner, who also happens to be her ex-boyfriend—and Syd’s.

We discovered that Eric was three-timing us when we met in a Group Therapy program for teens whose families were crumbling. It was a harsh blow at a tough time in our lives, but we developed our own form of therapy. First, we joined forces to take Eric Skinner down. Then, when people started asking us for help dealing with their damaged relationships, we created Love, Inc. Initially, we specialized in surveillance and revenge, but soon expanded into a full relationship management service. Love, Inc. was thriving until our parents found out and decreed that we shouldn’t be messing around in other people’s love lives, let alone getting paid for it.

It’s pretty hypocritical. Our work not only helped strangers, it brought Zahra’s parents back together and hooked my mom up with René, her current boyfriend. Given time, I’d have worked some magic for Syd’s mom, too.

What’s most infuriating is that the need for our services is greater than ever, judging by the e-mails in our Love, Inc. account. I keep busy with Caleb, school, environmental work, and especially my music, but losing the business left a hole in my life. I miss the excitement, and I miss working with my friends.

I also miss the cash, and being grounded limits my options for making more. Mom’s gone overboard with the house arrest. It’s not like we were moonlighting as assassins. At worst, we broke a few minor laws, and I think most people would agree that trashing a three-timing cheater’s car should be legal.

Mrs. Stark coped better, because Syd, as a street artist, has been vandalizing other people’s property for years. But Zahra’s parents are still reeling. Apparently she was a model citizen until Eric Skinner came along.

Judging by the smile on Zahra’s face as Brody hugs her, she doesn’t regret a thing. I suppose I can’t begrudge them a few steamy moments over the stove, when I matched them up in the first place. Still, it’s weird seeing my brother all over my friend.

Zahra must think so too, because she tries to detach herself. Brody won’t let go. Kal’s gotta get used to it, Red, he says, using his pet name for Zahra—a name she now likes, although she still hates her hair.

I roll my eyes but I know I will get used to it. If I weren’t highly adaptable, I couldn’t have survived teaming up with Zahra and Syd, because we’re all so different. We’ve figured out how to make those differences work for us, even as friends.

What’s going on with Syd? Zahra asks.

I press a button and Syd’s raspy voice comes over the speaker. Evan Garrett’s at my place and he’s a total mess.

So what else is new? I say. Evan was part of our therapy group. He was always disheveled and his manners were atrocious.

I mean emotionally, Syd says. His girlfriend dumped him. She lowers her voice. And I think he’s hammered.

Zahra’s brow furrows. Evan never mentioned a girlfriend.

I shrug. Even a socially stunted stoner gets lucky sometimes. What happened between them?

Get over here and interrogate him yourself, Syd says.

Zahra protests. But it’s—

Valentine’s Day. No kidding, Syd says. I’m not dealing with Evan alone.

When Syd hangs up, Zahra turns back to the stove and stirs her fragrant brew. I tug on her apron strings and say, Come on, Z. If we let Syd deal with Evan, he’ll end up jumping off the Congress Avenue Bridge. There’s a reason Syd handled our revenge cases instead of more delicate situations.

Brody keeps his hands on Zahra’s waist. Your business got disbanded, in case you didn’t notice, he says.

Zahra stirs faster, torn between Brody and me. How about I chat to Evan on the phone? You know I can handle him.

She can, too. Zahra’s the only one of us with patience and tact, which made her a natural as Love, Inc.’s mediation expert.

He’s drunk. It’ll take more than a phone intervention, I say.

Zahra’s stirring slows, and finally, she sends Brody into the dining room to deliver a soda to Caleb. Then she turns the heat off under the cherries and turns it on under me. Why are you so desperate to get out of here? Did Caleb say something?

Sometimes Zahra’s almost telepathic. I think he wants to drop the L-bomb.

That’s good, no? she asks, smiling. You said you’re tired of playing the field.

Why is it that Zahra can never remember my recommendations on bands, but never forgets a rash statement? I said I was tired of playing the field, but I meant I was tired of looking like I can’t sustain a relationship. So far, I’ve only mastered start-up, whereas our clients generally think long-term. That’s why I vowed to experience true love this year. Not the ohmygodhesmiledatmeI’minlove kind of love, but a deeper emotion that burns long after infatuation wears off.

Zahra takes her homemade chocolate ice cream out of the freezer and continues, Your own survey said you and Caleb are ninety percent compatible.

On paper Caleb and I are great together. As a matchmaker, and Love, Inc.’s compatibility expert, I know what makes people click. In fact, I’ve developed a system that predicts the potential success of any couple based on interests and personality traits. But I suppose no matter how much you have in common, it all boils down to whether or not someone gets you, and if Caleb got me, he wouldn’t be making big declarations. Instead, he’d show more interest in my music, or my environmental causes. If he got me, he’d sense I feel trapped.

Zahra scoops ice cream into four bowls, drizzles cherry sauce on top and hands me two of them. Just take it one day at a time, will you?

Nodding, I back through the kitchen door with the dessert. Then I set the bowls on a table in the hallway, pick up my purse and sneak out the front door.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I’m already at the bus stop when Brody catches up to me in Mom’s car. The bus lights are gleaming in the distance. Four more minutes and I’d have been on it, which is a shame, because I sprinted the quarter mile in heels. Zahra and Syd couldn’t have done that. They’ve never made proficiency in heels a priority. I keep telling them, stilettos give you an edge in the world, why not take it?

Brody leans over to push open the passenger door, and says, Get in the car.

I’m going to Syd’s. I kick the door closed. All I have to do is stall until the bus pulls up behind Brody and lays on the horn. He already has a couple of tickets and he won’t risk a suspension when he has new girlfriend to drive around. When he rolls down the window, I say, You can’t tell me what to do.

He waves his cell phone. I know someone who can. And she already thinks you have an impulse control problem.

Mom’s out for dinner with René, and if Brody calls her, I’ll get extra jail time for ruining Valentine’s Day. Brody isn’t always a rat, but Mom’s ticked at him for not spilling about Love, Inc. He’s still her favorite, though, and with his dark curls, he looks more like her than I do. I assume we inherited our biological father’s eyes, since Mom’s are brown and Brody’s and mine are green. I can’t say for certain, because the subject of our dad, who apparently ditched us for his band, is strictly off limits.

I switch tactics. Just drive me to Syd’s and we’ll bring her back to our place with Evan. You can’t leave her alone with a drunk.

Brody thinks for a second. "I’ll take you home and Zahra will come with me."

What, you can’t be away from her for twenty minutes?

He grabs a tube of Mom’s lipstick out of the ashtray and pelts me. It’s Valentine’s Day for God’s sake.

I pick up the lipstick and apply it nonchalantly. Last year you said Valentine’s Day is a commercial scam that preys on sentimental fools.

I’ve changed my mind about a lot of things recently, he says, pushing the car door open again. That’s why I’m taking you home instead of saving your skinny butt.

As the bus pulls up, I give up the fight and get into the car. By taking me home, you’re continuing to save my skinny butt. You’ve simply expanded your heroic outreach to cover my best friends’ butts. I pause before adding, Ew.

The glint of teeth behind the wheel tells me he doesn’t mind his new role at all.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Zahra, Caleb and I are drinking coffee at the kitchen table when Syd comes through the back door with Banksy, her Rottweiler. She’s wearing silver leggings, black boots, and a long black turtleneck sweater. Her dark bob gleams and her lips shine with red gloss. A beauty mark above her lip looks like a speck of brown paint. Where’s Max? I ask.

Syd rolls her eerie amber eyes. I’ve called in a 911 and your first question is about Max?

Max has been into Syd since we matched up his sister, roller derby star Madison Manson, with a Love, Inc. client. Syd resisted at first but clever scheming on my part eventually brought her and Max together. Syd keeps insisting they’re just friends because she’s got a worse case of PTDD than I do. Her specialty’s revenge, though, so there’s no pressure to model a mature relationship for clients. I’d love to know what she’s thinking, but Syd is extremely private. If you try to dig too deep, she’ll snap off your shovel and beat you over the head with the handle. Still, it’s a risk I take often. You can’t get anywhere in life without pushing limits—even someone else’s.

Tonight, however, Zahra intervenes. What happened, Syd?

Brody staggers in from the garage practically carrying Evan Garrett. Evan was the most difficult person in our therapy sessions. He was usually stoned, and always stupid, although it was unclear how deep the stupid went. He seemed to have given up on himself, and his appearance proves that. His hair is a huge, dense afro, his beard is wispy and shapeless, and he’s swallowed up in baggy, worn clothes.

Lurching toward me, arms outstretched, he says, Kali, I’ve missed you. I step aside and he pitches into Zahra instead. Brody disentangles him and props him against the counter. Sorry, Evan says. Didn’t mean to grope your girl.

You are hammered, Brody says.

Evan slides down the cupboards to the floor. Lianne said she never wanted to see my face again. And this time she meant it.

Oh man, Brody says, looking at Caleb. Tell me he’s not crying.

He’s not crying, I say, to protect what’s left of Evan’s pride. You guys go and watch the game while we take care of business here.

Zahra gives my brother a calm smile. Kali just means we’re going to talk Evan through his crisis. That’s what we do at Group.

"Did, Syd corrects. We graduated."

Technically, that’s true, but we’re still on the hook for helping Dieter, our Group Therapy leader, during his next session. Our parents thought we could use some more head shrinking, but probably didn’t want to pay for it.

Evan sends up a hiccupping sob from the floor.

Dude, don’t, Caleb says, edging away. You’ll get over this girl.

I won’t, Evan says. She was The One.

Saying that a million times won’t make it true, Syd says.

Zahra puts together a plate of leftovers for Evan. As always, her first line of treatment is food. Syd and I hook a hand under his arms, pull him into a sitting position and prop him against the cupboards. Eat, Syd says, handing him the plate and a fork.

Evan shovels food into his mouth, and mumbles, This is great.

Satisfied, Zahra turns to Syd. So…?

So, my mom was on a date and I’d planned to sneak out with Max and go to a roller derby match, Syd says. The doorbell rang and I found this— she gestures to Evan—holding a huge bouquet of white peonies.

Zahra and I tag-team to pull the story out of him. Lianne was Evan’s first girlfriend, and she dumped him a month after his parents broke up. He’s been trying to win her back, and she gave him enough encouragement to keep him dangling, until tonight.

Syd stands on Evan’s feet, clasps both of his hands and hoists him upright. I quickly slide a chair under his butt before he can collapse again. Together, we push the chair to the table, where Zahra is already waiting with a bowl of ice cream.

So let me guess, I say. You staged the big Valentine’s Day reunion ploy.

Evan nods and dips a spoon into the ice cream. That’s when she told me she’s been seeing other people for months. A guy came to pick her up when I was there.

Brody and Caleb sit down opposite him. I expected them to flee, but I guess it’s like rubbernecking at the scene of an accident.

And she told me I’m the biggest loser she’s ever met, Evan says.

Caleb says, Then she hasn’t been around much. I’ve met way bigger losers.

I can’t help smiling. Caleb’s heart’s in the right place.

Evan continues the play-by-play. She says my hair is worse than tumbleweed and my breath stinks. My legs are too skinny, my gut is too fat, my arms are too hairy, and my face isn’t hairy enough. Plus, I’m boring, uncultured and predictable.

"And you give a crap about this girl, why?" Brody asks.

Because she’s beautiful, Evan says. And I’m stupid and ugly, just like she said.

Syd stops pacing to ask, Did she say that in front of this other guy?

Evan’s eyes water up as he nods. And that I’m a style disaster.

Style we can work on, Evan, I say. His torn sweatpants and battered sneakers qualify as toxic waste, but I enjoy a challenge.

I like my style, Evan whines. It’s comfortable.

Syd loses patience. Oh, shut it, Evan. It’s like you’ve given up.

Of course he has, Zahra says, patting his shoulder. "He’s been emotionally abused. Evan, this is what you should have been talking about at Group."

He’s been blocking it out with beer and weed, I say.

Watching Evan’s head droop, Zahra gives in. We’ll help you, she says.

This had better not be a paying project. Brody directs his comment at me because he’s too smart to tell Zahra what she can and cannot do.

We’re just supporting a friend in need, I say. I can polish you up, Evan, and find you someone new.

Who’d want me? Evan asks, wiping his nose with his sleeve. You guys said yourselves that I’m a pig.

We never said that, Zahra says.

I did, Syd says.

Zahra ignores her. A new look will help you feel better about yourself.

And we need to show you how cruel Lianne’s been, or you’ll never be ready to move on, I say.

"Someone ought to show her, too, Syd says, heading for the back door. People like Lianne make me sick."

Is she okay? Zahra says, staring after Syd, worried.

She’s just calling Max, I say. They haven’t communicated in half an hour.

They’re still at that stage where it’s all soap bubbles, Caleb tells me. Like in the song you wrote last week.

So Caleb gets me better than I thought. Circling the table, I put my arms around his shoulders and hug him from behind until Brody complains about my elbow in his ear.

Go hug your girl, I tell my brother. It’s Valentine’s Day for God’s sake.

Twenty minutes later, Brody offers to drive Evan and Caleb home, when he drops off Zahra. Evan walks out with the guys on his own steam, looking almost cheerful.

Syd comes in to say good-bye. Are you guys thinking what I’m thinking? she asks.

I nod, grinning. Love, Inc. is officially back in business!

Zahra finishes the last bite of her peanut butter sandwich and slides the empty container into her nylon lunch bag. When we first started eating together, she and Syd produced enough lunchtime garbage to fill their own landfill site. Thanks to my gentle encouragement (harassment, according to Syd), my friends have replaced disposable with reusable. Activism is so satisfying, even on a small scale.

I don’t know about this, Zahra says, after Syd and I present our plan to help Evan get back at Lianne. Maybe we shouldn’t be working so soon, even for free.

Who said anything about free? Syd asks, scowling from under the brim of a black wool fedora that tops off a white shirt, black pants and vest, and an indigo tie.

We should at least give Evan a discount, I say. He’s the most deeply messed up client we’ve ever taken on.

I say we charge extra, Syd says. Since he ruined Valentine’s Day for all of us.

It was my best Valentine’s ever, Zahra says, smiling at the memory of cooking, counseling, and cozying up to Brody. You claim not to have a boyfriend, so I don’t know why you’re complaining, Syd. And Kali literally took off on hers.

Is that how things are done in a mature relationship? Syd asks me, smirking.

I rifle through my bag for lip gloss and apply it without a mirror. For a bogus holiday, Valentine’s Day really cranks up the pressure. I kind of lost it.

Zahra eyes me over the brim of her thermal cup. What happened?

I layer on a different shade of lip gloss while deciding how to respond. Eric Skinner happened, I finally say. He popped into my mind and I couldn’t shove him out. PTDD strikes again. Mom might call leaving a negative situation poor impulse control, but I call it sensible. Sometimes