After deciding on another graphologist and then shuttling Owen back to his apartment, Brandon drove Doyle down to the shop.
“While we’re hunting for parking, mind if I ask you a question about the business?”
“Shoot,” Brandon said, eyeing curb space as he drove.
“What was it like dealing with the card companies? Any of them give you guys trouble?”
“Sometimes. Owners of the local companies came around a lot. Checking up on displays, hounding us for things, making sure their products got special placement. Sometimes we had to rearrange the shop while they were there and then undo most of it after they left.”
“Sounds like a lot of prima donnas.”
“They are but I can understand how they feel. The big companies overwhelm everything else on the racks. These little guys are forced to fight fo
