Duna's faith in me is sorely misplaced because it takes me two days to text Taehyung. Part of it is that I keep hoping he'll text me. I mean, in a movie, I give the hint to his friend, his friends tell him, and he gets in touch with me. But Taehyung doesn't.
Who does call, literally as I'm picking up the business card to act on the first of my Don't Think, Do tasks (Taehyung being the second), is Tri Doan's executive assistant, who invites me to his office to talk about funding.
"He knows about Eppy?"
"Sure does." Vinny, the executive assistant, laughs. "Everyone at the office has been using it. I finally got the thank-you notes for my wedding in the mail because of Eppy. We were married eight months ago."
I beam at the phone as we sort out the appointment time, and when I disconnect, I hug the phone to my chest and dance an uncoordinated jig.
Tri Doan wants to know more about Eppy. He asked me.
Nerves takes over but this time, I'm not alone. Duna and Anna are both there to coach me through. I check through the simultaneous text conversations and feel my courage grow.
Anna: You're doing him a favor by meeting. It's popular and he knows more people will be after you.
Duna: I met with my futurist. She's using Eppy. This is a winner and you did it.
Anna: Do that thing where you lift up your arms Rocky-style to build physical confidence before you go in if you need it. Saw it on a TED Talk.
Duna: I believe in you.
Anna: [Rocky montage GIF]
An hour before the meeting, I put on a black dress, paint my lips oxblood, and tell my mirror reflection You got this until I feel it in my very trembly bones.
Then I gather my laptop and my notes, and I go in ready to impress Tri Doan enough to get the money I need for my app. It's not in favor, I remind myself. The investment will make both of us successful. Eppy is valuable.
The office is in an industrial part of the city that's been taken over by tech start-ups and circus arts schools. Vinny greets me with a smile and sets me up with water in Tri's office, which is walled with whiteboards and littered with Rubik's cubes and building blocks. A jar of tall, pink hollyhocks provides a sport of color.
I don't even wait a minute before Tri comes in. He gives me a warm smile and a wave.
"Saw the tweet from Kim Taehyung and gave Eppy a go," he says by way of introduction. Tri is my height and bald and has a smile that covers his face. Unlike the suit at the Dior party, today he's wearing a black hoodie and cargo pants and huge gleaming basketball shoes you would never wear to play any sport. "Good stuff. I like your story."
He gestures me to the leather chair and sits on the couch. Because his office is in a reclaimed warehouse, the only view is the worn brick of another warehouse. "Tell me your plans."
I've prepped this—Anna suggested I treat this like a job interview so I spent three hours creating smart answers to every question he might have—and I'm ready.
I tell him my goals: the app, the analog planners, the eventual community of people helping each other reach their goals by providing tips and encouragement. He listens and doesn't interrupt me once. I pull out my business plan and he pages through, asking questions I have ready answers for and a a few that make me think.
"Sounds good," he says when I finish. "I want in."
Then he names an amount of money that shorts out my brain and gives me the contacts of people who can help, including an app developer who was on my short list. His lawyer will be in touch.
When I get outside, my teeth chatter in stress-citement. It's all happening so fast that I can't take it in. I send Anna a quick text and get a last emojis back and a promise that she needs the whole story once she's out of her meeting. Duna sends a video of her blowing a kiss.
Taehyung sends nothing because I'm too gutless to contact him.
I check my website—downloads slowing but going strong. I email all the contacts Tri gave me, right there on the street. Then I stand there, filled with restless energy. I want to yell into a forest and dance around a fountain until I exhaust myself.
Eomma. I'll go see Eomma and tell her what's going on. That will soothe me.
There's a bus coming and within the hour, I sign in at Navel Home. When I get to Eomma's room, I stop. She's speaking to someone in a soft voice so I decide to give them a moment to finish, it must be one of the aides or a nurse.
As I stare at the framed picture of the sweet white kitten, I pull out my phone. I haven't been able to get Taehyung out of my head and I can't pull it off any longer. This is my true Don't Think, Do task. I send the text to the number Duna gave me and I do it fast, before I can think about it anymore. Th same message as before.
Hi Taehyung.
A ping comes from inside Eomma's room.