Joi Lewis shimmied over to her desk, the sounds of Kool & the Gang pouring from her computer’s speakers. The music filled her small office inside Citadel Security, the company she’d founded eight years ago. The late-morning sunshine flooding through her vertical blinds cast a glow on the cluttered surface of her desktop, and she chided herself for neglecting to clear it off—again. Since she needed to do the books for the previous month, there would be no more putting it off. So, with music to motivate her, she began digging through the mountain of papers, magazines and random items piled up on the black lacquer desktop.
Karen, Joi’s college classmate and business partner, poked her head into the office. Joi gave her a nod. She could see Karen’s lips moving, but she had no idea what she was saying. She continued to go about the task of cleaning the desk.
Karen started flailing her arms, to signal Joi to pay attention.
Joi finally looked up, still dancing. “What?”
Karen rolled her eyes, then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Turn down that music, please!”
Joy twisted the knob on her computer speaker and gave her partner a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Music makes things go by faster.”
Karen shook her head, folding her arms across her chest. Tall and curvy, Karen Russell controlled the cybersecurity aspects of Citadel’s business. She wore a peach knee-length sheath that hugged her figure and complemented her complexion, accessorized with several pieces of gold jewelry. Despite her ultra-feminine looks, Karen was as big a computer nerd as they came. “You know, you could just tidy it up at the end of each day. That way it wouldn’t get so out of hand.”
Joi waved her off. “You sound like my mom. Go do something technical while I finish this.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be working on the October profit and loss statement?” Karen leaned against the door frame, awaiting an answer.
“Yes, and I will as soon as I get my desk clear. So, shoo.”
Karen shrugged. “Call me when you’re done.”
After Karen had left, Joi looked down at the uniform she wore every day: a pair of black slacks and a white button-down blouse embroidered with Citadel’s logo. While her position as owner left her free to wear anything she pleased, she chose to wear the same uniform her security guards wore. In her mind, it made sense. Plus, she didn’t spend nearly as much time as Karen did fussing over an outfit. That left her more free time to work, and to help raise Citadel’s profile in the community.
By the time the playlist finished half an hour later, she’d culled most of the unneeded items from her desktop. Ready to take advantage of the newfound space, she sat down in her black leather executive chair. She opened her accounting software and dove into the reports displayed on-screen.
It took less than twenty minutes for her to discover a serious problem. Her face creased into a frown, and she called out for Karen.
Karen strolled in from her office in the next room. “What’s up? Are you done running reports?”
Joi curled her finger in Karen’s direction. “Come over here and look at this.”
Karen dragged a folding chair next to where Joi sat, and joined her in peering at the figures that were displayed on the screen.
After a few moments of silence, Karen asked, “Are these numbers right?”
With a slow nod, she responded, “Yes. I’ve checked them three times.” While she didn’t maintain a pristine office, she did keep meticulous financial records.
In typical fashion, Karen grabbed the blond highlighted ends of her ponytail and began twisting them. “Crap.”
“Crap is right.” Joi turned away from the screen to look at her friend and business partner. “Losing that contract in September has had a bigger impact on our bottom line than we thought.” One of their small business clients, Wilma Clark, had retired and closed up her small boutique, leaving two of the guards without a regular assignment. The boutique sold designer shoes and accessories to Charlotte’s wealthier citizens. Mrs. Clark requested the guards after a break-in at the store. “It looks like Mrs. Clark’s last check to us bounced.”
A frown creased Karen’s brow. “That’s not like her. She was one of our first clients, and she’s never written us a bad check.”
“I know.” Joi shrugged. She knew Mrs. Clark well enough to know that the bounced check hadn’t been some malicious attempt at defrauding Citadel. “To be honest, I don’t feel right pursuing her for the money, either. She was such a good client, and now that she’s retired, she’s much less likely to be able to pay it anyway.”
“I agree.” Karen sat back in her chair, let out a soft sigh. “Is she even still in the area?”
“I don’t really know. She did mention having a son in Florida. But I haven’t seen her since she shut the boutique down, and that was three weeks ago.” Joi hadn’t really thought to question Mrs. Clark about how she’d be spending her retirement.
“So what are we going to do?”
The two of them sat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments.
Finally, Karen gave voice to what they were both thinking. “If we don’t get another client quick, we are going to be out of business.”
A long sigh escaped Joi’s mouth. “We’ve got enough for payroll, and to keep the lights on for now, but not much more. We’ve got to drum up some business.”
Standing, Karen refolded her chair and tucked it into the back corner of the room. “I’m on it. I’m going to see what I can do to revamp the website, and to get us some social media attention.” She was out the door by the time she finished her sentence.
That was what Joi loved about Karen. They both shared an equal amount of passion for Citadel. Whatever the task, Joi knew Karen would always put in the necessary effort to accomplish their business goals. She couldn’t imagine what Citadel would be without her brainy college classmate as her partner.
And while Karen did the technical thing she was so good at, Joi planned to kick it old-school, and solicit some business using the tried-and-true method she preferred. Taking her desk phone out of its cradle, she opened her contact file on the computer and started to dial.
She spent the next hour going through her contacts, making calls and putting people on notice that Citadel now had an open slot for a new client. A few people said they would follow up with her within the week, but some flatly conveyed their disinterest. When she replaced the handset in the cradle, she leaned back in her chair and blew out an exasperated breath. Prospecting was the one aspect of running a business she didn’t care for, but she would do whatever it took to keep her company up and running.
Citadel was so much more than just her work. It was the realization of her dreams. She thought back to the fateful day in high