Rachel’s face flushed red, then white—clearly embarrassed.
She bit her lip and lowered her voice.
“Sophia Miller, do you really have to make this so ugly?”
“Which of my suggestions isn’t worth the price I asked?”
“Look at your restaurant: the music tastes cheap, the flow is a mess—only the décor is halfway decent.”
“If it weren’t for my promotion, do you think you’d have this much buzz today?”
The more she spoke, the more justified she seemed to feel, her voice rising.
“I gave you exposure, I gave you strategy. Charging you half a million was the friendship price!”
“Don’t be so ungrateful!”
I almost laughed in anger.
On opening day, the hype had been built with millions my father spent on city-wide promotion.
What did that have to do with her heavily Photoshopped selfies?
Eric chimed in as well.
“Sophia, Rachel’s right.”
“She’s a million-follower influencer now, with huge reach.”
“Think of it as a publicity fee. You’re not losing out.”
Looking at Eric’s insincere face, disgust churned in my stomach.
“Publicity fee?”
I pulled out my phone and opened Rachel’s Instagram, showing them her so-called “recommendation” post about my restaurant.