“What?” Stacy had forgotten to look angry and leaned in, waiting for Dylan’s explanation.
“I don’t think Tim made a call,” Dylan said, looking sideways around the room before leveling her suspicion. “I think he caused the glitch.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I figured a guy that rich had some pull. But the call took him forever to make, and when I asked about the details, he said not to worry about it. At the time, I thought he just didn’t want me to feel bad about however much money he had to give them. But I don’t think he gave any money.”
Reaching out, Stacy began rapidly patting Dylan’s arm, her excited dance causing her gold sparkly heels to flash across the floor. “Oh my God. Your boss reprised hacking for me?”
Her whisper-shout carried to a couple placing their purses at a nearby table; they looked up. Raising a silencing hand, Dylan nodded, praying that admitting her boss might have committed a felony wouldn’t be the final straw that broke the friendship’s proverbial back. Stacy stopped for a second and glared at the couple, who moved on after a few tense blinks. Turning back to Dylan, she started vibrating off the floor, her words a gush of air. “That is so cool!”
“You’re not mad?”
“Heck no. It isn’t like he got me accepted. He just made sure the red tape didn’t stop this woman from getting a fair shake.”
“Seriously?” Dylan asked, forcing the hope in her voice under wraps. The last thing she wanted was to rush a friendship recovery, only to have it come back and bite her in the backside like all her other promises.
Leaning in conspiratorially, Stacy smirked. “I’m obviously qualified, and besides, who else can say that a world-renowned hacker and millionaire helped them with their grad school application?”
Dylan laughed. “I promise you I had no idea he was going to fix it like this, but I’m really glad he did.” Gathering her courage for the hard part, she added, “Stacy, I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I’ve been a terrible friend. Not just because of the letter but for missing visits home and not making time to see you. What’s wild is that until last week, you were about the only person in Seattle that I wanted to see, and I still didn’t give you the time or attention you deserved.”
Stacy’s kind expression twitched ever so slightly, as if hearing Dylan apologize touched on something deeper. “It’s no big deal. Seriously, it all worked out.”
“No, it was a big deal. What you said was hard but true. I was selfish. I made everything about me and my work and my relationships, and you paid the price for that.”
Looking down for a moment, Stacy let one of her heels wobble back and forth as she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I said it like that, though. I was just so mad at you. Like, yes, what happened was bad, but I knew you were stressed out.”
Dylan smiled as hope filled the cracks in the insecurities of their friendship. The two of them would be okay. Maybe even better, more honest friends now. Watching Stacy’s expression carefully, she said, “Can we agree to forgive each other?”
“Yes. Not gonna lie—I missed you, girl.” Stacy held her arms out wide for a hug, and the gold sequins on the long sleeves of her dress scratched Dylan’s arms. In that moment, she couldn’t have cared less about being mauled by a dress. If she never got another hug from her friend, this would be all the hug she ever needed.
Backing away, Dylan fanned her eye makeup, hoping to dry any tears before they did real damage. When she made eye contact with Stacy, who was carefully patting her eyeliner, the pair burst into a wet round of giggles.
“I was so heartbroken over what I did to you.” Dylan sniffed twice, still fanning her face with one hand and taking a sip of champagne with the other.
“Oh, I know. I had drinks with Neale yesterday. I was on the fence about rolling through, but then she mentioned Mike and Linda and Patricia. And seriously? We need to catch up.”
“Neale is the worst secret keeper ever,” Dylan laughed, turning her head and catching sight of the door.
Each muscle in her body hit pause. Mike was standing dead center of the blue carpet, flanked on either side by an elegant older woman. The three of them stopped, wonder written on their faces, as the room began its transition from jungle scene to underwater ocean, the brilliant greens transforming to gentle blues. The aqua light cast shadows over his face, making the angles of his body sharper, from the cut of his high cheekbones to the way his dark suit hugged his waist.
One of the donors elbowed Mike, who was squinting up at the ceiling, directing his attention to a school of fish dancing around the room toward her.
“Oh no.” Dylan jumped as their eyes met, jerking her head back toward Stacy with a squeak.
“Ack,” Stacy said, following Dylan’s eyes to the door.
“Maybe he didn’t see me.”
“You’re six feet tall, and the room is empty. He saw you.” To her friend’s credit, Stacy angled her body toward the door, as if her miniature stature might shield Dylan from sight and buy her more time to think.
“Holy shit. I’m not ready for all this. Maybe I can hide until it’s over?” Dylan whispered, trying to smooth the bodice lines in her dress.
“Wait. You managed to re-up his entire party, and now you are too scared to take credit for it?” Stacy asked, sucking noisy air through her teeth.
“Pretty much. I was so mean. And I flaked. It was way worse than what I did to you, trust me.”
“Is he still looking?”
“I don’t know,” Dylan said, consciously keeping her eyes away from the door.
“Well, I can’t turn and look. That’s too obvious. Do a casual laugh and glance or something.”
“That sounds silly.”
“This is silly,” Stacy said, rolling her eyes. “Just do it.”
The sound Dylan forced out of her throat was more like the mangled chuckle of a children’s movie villain than a laugh as she pushed the glamour wave out of her face while looking at the door.
Mike was saying his goodbyes to the two elegant women. Straightening up, he looked directly at her and began walking toward them, occasionally waving at a few guests as he crossed the room.
“He is coming.” Panic tinged Dylan’s attempt at a whisper.
Stacy grinned. “I can get the details later. You’re gonna need a little liquid courage for that one. Drink up.”
“Don’t leave me,” Dylan said, reaching for Stacy’s arm as she turned to go.
“I have to get me one of those,” she said, dodging her friend’s grasp and pointing to Dylan’s drink. “And look, the family is here. I’m just gonna say hi.”
“You are the worst,” Dylan hissed as her friend trotted away.
“Don’t I know it. Luck,” Stacy called over her shoulder, waving at Dylan’s parents, Neale, and the Robinsons.
Dylan risked a fleeting glance over at Mike, who had been momentarily sidetracked by another guest. Weighing her options, she decided she would rather face the uncomfortable truth head-on than wait for it to come to her. After all, Stacy was right. She had done all of this for him, and whether or not he forgave her, she could leave here with her head high, knowing she’d made good on her word.
Pulling her shoulders back and her chin up, she grabbed the hem of her dress with one hand and her champagne with the other, making her way toward him. Mike nodded to the guest and turned, his expression inscrutable as he righted himself. Dylan’s heart completed a backflip that would have landed her full marks at a gymnastics competition.
“What are you doing here?” an angry voice cawed in her left ear, causing her to choke on a fortifying sip of champagne. Whipping her head away from the hot sound, she staggered back before turning to face the speaker.
Jared stood in front of her, his stocky frame humming with rage. If Dylan hadn’t been so shocked by his unexpected appearance, she would have found the sweat running down his faux tan funny. As it was, seeing his Coppertone failure wasn’t exactly the good time she h
ad planned for the evening.
“Excuse me?” Dylan said, attempting to regain her composure.
“You were fired. Now you are wandering around Kaplan’s party. Leave.”
“It’s technically Crescent’s party.”
“Bullshit.”
“What’s bullshit is you firing me from a contract you couldn’t fire me from,” Dylan said, surprised by her own directness. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she saw Mike stop walking toward her, his head cocked to one side as he watched Jared rock forward on his heels.
“That,” Jared sputtered, “is not true.”
“That is not what Steve said when I went in to clean out my office.”
“I don’t know who this Steve is, but if you aren’t out of here in ten seconds, I’ll get security.”
“What are you doing here?” Dylan said, ignoring the threat.
“I was personally invited by John Kaplan.” Jared puffed up at the mention of the company chairman’s name. “God forbid he see you. I’m going to do you a favor. Salvage your career and get the hell out of here before he realizes—”
“Dylan!” Tim’s tenor carried from across the hall as he hustled around the room. Steve and a couple of polished individuals Dylan didn’t recognize trailed behind him, cocktails in hand, jokes written on their body language.
“Hi, Tim.” Dylan waved. She turned around to face Jared, who had gone pale at the sight of Tim’s joy.
“Isn’t this just fantastic? It’s even better than what I envisioned.” Tim’s pure enthusiasm for the project had not waned. He stretched out his arms for a hug.
“It is. I’m blown away by everyone’s hard work,” Dylan said, dipping in for a quick embrace.
“I wish I were a kid just so I could experience this through their eyes.” Tim sounded choked up.
“Dylan, this is fantastic,” Steve said as he reached the small group, giving her a side squeeze. Jared squeaked and rocked back on his heels. Steve paused momentarily, but when Jared didn’t explain himself, he continued, gesturing to the man next to him. “Have you met John Kaplan?”
A big blue whale reflected back at her from a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that had fallen out of fashion roughly ten years ago. They were set atop a slightly crooked nose attached to a face with a ring of peppered gray hair around an otherwise completely bald head. The entire picture was that of a very rich, very friendly monk. Not exactly the perfectly attired, reclusive partner she had imagined.
Fighting to keep the surprise out of her tone, Dylan extended her hand. “I haven’t had the pleasure. So nice to meet you, Mr. Kaplan.”
“Pleasure is all mine. And please, call me John,” he said, flashing a set of incredibly white and uncomfortably perfect teeth. “Steve tells me you have been doing some fantastic work up here.”
“A regular one-woman force of nature.” Tim smiled, taking a sip of his drink.
“That just warms my heart. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a young lady with such exquisite taste in dresses,” said the woman standing next to John. Extending a hand to Dylan, she said, “Estelle Kaplan.” If John was the stuff of legend, his mother was the legend itself, and her neck-to-floor black beaded dress looked like it. Dylan smiled and sent a silent thank-you to Deep and her degree in fashion merchandising.
“She is always in that office hammering out idea after idea, getting Tim and me in line, despite our best efforts. Alone, no less.” Steve grinned as he said this.
Next to him, Jared made additional sputtering sounds, causing Tim to pause midsip and begin an appraisal of him that read distaste when Jared switched to heavy breathing.
“Jared, is that you?” John smiled at him as if he was just noticing the man.
After wiping his hands on his suit pants, Jared extended a meaty fist to John. “Yes, Mr. Kaplan. So good to see you again after last year’s managers’ summit. Thank you for the invitation.”
“Oh! You work at Kaplan,” Tim said, taking in Jared’s face, which was slowly transitioning from red to deep mauve. Holding out his hand, he said, “Tim Gunderson, CEO of Technocore.”
Jared’s eyes looked like a cartoon character’s, popping out of his head as Tim mentioned his name. When Jared didn’t move, Tim tried again, earnestly asking, “Are you in the Houston office?”
Jared looked like he might begin to foam at the mouth. Undeterred, Tim threw Dylan a meaningful look as if to telegraph his attempt at good social skills before saying, “Dylan’s been with us for almost two months now. Do you know her?”
Jared barked and shook his head before answering, “We’ve met.”
“You and Dylan? Of course, you—”
“No. You.”
Mother and son exchanged loaded glances; question marks creased across their foreheads.
“I don’t think so,” Tim said, taking a step back and looking concerned. “Are you all right? Need some water, maybe?”
“No . . . I . . . we . . .” Jared grasped at strangled words before finally spitting out, “I’ve been at Technocore. Must’ve missed me.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d have seen you.” Tim looked alarmed as Jared fanned his purple face. “Let me flag down a waiter.”
“No need. I believe he is leaving,” John said, looking over at Estelle, who nodded in approval. “Just tell me before you go—how was the golf vacation? Or should I ask about the trip to Mexico? Maybe that visit to your mother’s house in Florida?”
The room shifted under Dylan’s feet, and she put a steadying hand on a nearby dining chair to make sure she didn’t topple over. The massive reports she should have written with a team. Jared’s cagey behavior. Everything clicked. Was he that stupid? Had he really gone on vacation and tried to fire her before anyone could figure him out?
“I’d never,” Jared said, the indignation in his tone bordering on ridiculous.
“Spare me. Steve called last week,” Estelle said. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it rang with the kind of threat that only a woman who’d built a company with nothing but her wits could lay out. “The only question is exactly how we fire you. It is in your best interest to come clean. Otherwise, there will be more consequences for you than there were for Bernie Madoff.”
Shaking her head, Dylan let go of the chair so she could look Jared in the face. “I should have known.”
“Don’t you dare imply—”
“Tread carefully.” Estelle’s interruption was sharp. When Jared stopped speaking, she placed her hand on Dylan’s shoulder and nodded for her to continue.
A slow smile crept across her face as Dylan recalled the threatening emails, the irate voice mails, and their conversation earlier. “Jared. I’ll do you a favor. I’d hate to ruin your career, so I’ll give you ten seconds to leave before I call security.”
She smirked as Jared recoiled and opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t. Instead he stood there shaking, clenching and unclenching his fists as if they might resolve this for him.
“You heard the lady,” John said, stepping aside so he could pass.
The gesture seemed to jog Jared into speaking. “Surely you can’t think—”
“One.” Estelle began to count. “Two.”
Jared yelped, “I refuse to be dismissed in this manner. I demand—”
“Three.”
“Think of your career, Jared,” Dylan said, a hint of a smile betraying her.
“Four.”
“This ten count is for you to get yourself to the parking lot. It isn’t a generous timeline to argue and then head for the door,” Steve said, his forehead wrinkling with a scowl.
“Five.”
Looking around the group one last time, Jared shouted, “I’ll see you on Monday.” He pointed a stubby finger directly at John and froze in a dramatic attempt at a stare-down.
“Six.” Estelle sounded bored, as if she were waiting for her manicure to dry.
When John didn’t respond, Jared let out an indignant huff. Pushing past Dylan, he marched towa
rd the door in short, bitter strides, barking at waiters to get out of his way. The staff mostly ignored him, adding to the insult. With a howled curse, he cleared the blue carpet, leaving what was left of the group and several guests staring at the hallway he’d vanished down.
“Who says charity events are boring?” Steve said, his shoulders relaxing. Tim whistled.
“I think he took that rather well,” Estelle cracked.
“What a joke. Going on a golf vacation, posting about it on an open social media account, and charging drinks to the company. The jerk just forwarded along your reports as if he did the work,” John said, shaking his head.
“Is that what he was doing?” Tim asked, indignant.
“Yes. And we all kept wondering why the reports were so thorough and well structured. Usually, we just ask our junior partners to fill out a one-page form and turn up for a call once a week. He was probably using your work to make the calls,” John said, gesturing to Dylan.
“Amateur hour,” Tim said, sipping his cocktail, prompting Steve to give him a curious look.
“Well, I’m glad to be rid of him. He was difficult before the Technocore placement; it’ll be nice to have someone more reasonable to report to,” Dylan said.
“I heard rumors.” Estelle smiled. “I just wanted to see it for myself.”
“Wait, so you flew all the way up here just to fire someone?” Dylan laughed, switching her half-full glass to the other hand so she could push her hair away from her forehead.
“Not entirely.” John shrugged. “We also flew up to get a closer look at our new junior partner.”
“You’ve already hired someone to replace Jared? That was fast.”
“Oh no. We didn’t hire anyone. We’re promoting someone. You, in fact,” Estelle said.
For a moment, Dylan was silent, trying to process what was happening. She’d walked into this evening unsure of her fate beyond the next week. Now she was being offered the junior partnership she’d been working so hard to achieve. “Thank you so—”
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