by Lily Menon
June made a new “competition” section on the whiteboard and wrote down the company names. “So that’s … an interior design app, a fashion app, and an app that wants to replace the pacemaker.”
Annika put a blue X next to the first two. “I’m thinking our only real competition out of those three is Heart Tech. Patterns is too disorganized, from what I’ve seen of them at other conferences, and Glow Up isn’t doing anything innovative.”
“And their developer is better at Googling than he is at Python,” June scoffed. “I met him at that workshop I did last month.”
“Good for us. I don’t know who else is going to be there, but I don’t think that really matters. Our edge is how innovative our tech is. All we need to focus on is our energy, and make sure we convey to the panel just how big this could be.” She began pacing, her brain spitting and sparking ideas as she stepped into a strip of bright sunlight on the carpet. “We’re not just about the shiny new thing, right? We’re not about sexy hookups or one-night stands, stuff that doesn’t last. We’re about long-enduring partnerships. We’re about infusing love back into something that’s tried and true. What’s important to us is meaningful connection, making people just a little bit less lonely in this world. And we’re going to use technology to help us do that. It’s the perfect blend of cutting-edge tech and old-school heart.” She stopped at the window and looked out at the forest of skyscrapers, at all the windows, out of which hundreds of others were probably looking out, too. None of them could see each other. “There are so many people so close together in this city. In every city. And yet we’re all just like fallen leaves, scattered by the wind, swirling meaninglessly on aimless journeys. Make Up wants to give meaning to that journey.”
June shook her head. “Sounds … lonely.”
“It is lonely. At the end of the day, we’re all completely alone. We’re born alone and we die alone—didn’t someone famous say that?”
“Super-secret feature? What’s that—a binky for the especially needy clients?”
Annika turned at the brash, confident voice. Hudson Craft stood at the door, dressed in dark-wash jeans and a mint-colored polo shirt, flame-haired Ziggy by his side. She hadn’t even heard him come in, she’d been so focused on her conversation with June.
She stared at him without saying anything. Her mind flashed confusingly with images of him whispering in her ear at yoga, his hand on her inner knee, asking her “why” (she still hadn’t figured that one out—why what? Why was her app so much better than his?), the way he’d leaned in close to kiss her at the hotel in Vegas, the feeling of his gong mallet snapping in half against her thigh—and “gong mallet” wasn’t a euphemism … though snapping that gong mallet in half was an option she’d consider if things got dire enough. It was easier to think of him as an inconsequential speed bump in her life if he wasn’t actually in her office. Which brought her to her next thought: What was he doing here?
Seeing her paralysis, June stepped forward with a toothy grin, holding a manicured hand out. “Hi there,” she said, her southern accent stronger than ever. Anytime June disliked someone, her accent came out even more pronounced, as though it was a shield. “How nice to meet you. I’m June Stewart. Chief Technology Officer, Make Up.”
“Hudson,” he said, his own brilliant smile never fading. Self-satisfied, complacent, little … “CEO, Break Up.” His eyes danced with laughter. “And this is the partial owner of Break Up—”
“—Percy,” the redhead, who hadn’t stopped staring at June since they arrived, jumped in. He held his hand out, too, and June took it. “But they call me Ziggy.”
“Oh.” Letting go of his hand, June cocked her head and smiled pityingly at him. “You can’t get them to stop?”
Ziggy let out a strange laugh, like a goose having an asthma attack. “I—I guess not.” He continued to stare at June, as if he couldn’t bear to look away.
Annika rolled her eyes and turned to Hudson. “Why are you here?” She hoped it sounded just as rude out loud as it did in her head.
His face was tinged with annoyance and something buried deeper that she couldn’t get to, but then he was looking past her at the whiteboard on the wall, his expression back to confident and smirky. “The EPIC pitch contest, huh? You’re pitching them in June?”
Annika crossed her arms. “Yeah, so?”
“No, nothing.” Hudson brushed back his hair and shrugged insouciantly, as if he were talking about the weather. “We’ll be there, too.”
It took Annika a beat to catch on. “You … you mean Break Up’s going to be pitching the investors?”
Ziggy adjusted the collar of his crisp button-down. “Yeah, the rumor is Lionel Wakefield’s really looking for a dating app to invest in right now.”
“But you don’t need any more money!” Annika found herself bursting out. “And you’re not a dating app—you’re a heartbreaking app!”
A corner of Hudson’s mouth lifted in a self-satisfied half smile. “I know we look successful—and we are—but every start-up needs a steady infusion of capital to keep it going. Break Up’s no different.”
Ugh. Typical. Mercenary, greedy, smug ass. She exchanged a glance with June, who looked just as miffed as she did. This was their chance to turn things around, dammit. Break Up wasn’t supposed to be part of the picture. She didn’t want to have to worry about Hudson fucking Craft at EPIC, too.
He looked at her with a slightly pitying look on his face. “I’m not going to take it easy on you. Just FYI.” Raising his chin to June’s notes on the whiteboard about wrenching the investors’ hearts and punching their guts, he added, “You might want a more cerebral approach than just torturing the investors until they give you money.”
Annika stepped into his path, just a few inches apart from him, to block his view. Which was ridiculous, because the dude had, like, ten inches on her. Her head wasn’t even in his periphery. Determinedly staring at the little white buttons on his polo shirt (she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her struggle to meet his eye), she said, “I don’t need you to take it easy on me, Hudson. I’ll be sure to send you the link to Indeed.com’s job listings, though. You’ll need to start thinking about a career change after we smoke you at EPIC. I hear Subway’s always hiring.”
There was a soft snort. Annika thought Hudson might be laughing at her but it was impossible to know for sure from this angle. Damn him and his gigantic genes. She tossed her hair behind her casually, and said, to his pecs, “It won’t be so funny when I kick your ass.”
“You want to say that to my face?” Laughter pushed at the edges of his words.
Ziggy snickered in response, but June was stonily silent in solidarity. She could hear them but she couldn’t see them, since she was still resolutely studying Hudson’s buttons. Damn. She should’ve come up with an exit strategy.
Hudson bent toward Annika, his eyes locked on hers. She had no choice but to gaze back. “You’ve got an edge, Ms. Dev. Anyone ever tell you that?”
There was a beat between them that Annika couldn’t quite read. Her palms got damp. “A competitive edge, yes. All the time. I’m glad you’re finally acknowledging it.” Hudson didn’t smile at her quip. What did he see when he looked at her? Finally breaking eye contact, she stepped back unsteadily and cleared her throat. “So, did you just come down here to tell us you’re pitching at EPIC?”
“Actually, no.” Stepping back too, Hudson rested his shoulder lightly against the doorjamb. It creaked, but he didn’t seem to notice. Of course not. He’d be happy if Annika’s office collapsed into a pile of rubble. “We’re on our way to talk to someone about having a few dozen cases of champagne delivered.”
Annika scoffed, abandoning her scrutiny of the doorjamb, and crossed her arms. “A few dozen cases of champagne? I know you’re all about the self-congratulation, but that seems excessive, even for you.”
Ziggy spoke up, his eyes bright. “We’re having a ‘moving into the building’ party on Thu
rsday.” After a pause, his eyes darting to June, he added, “You guys should come. You know, if you’re not busy.”
Hudson shot Ziggy an annoyed look, but Ziggy was so busy staring at June, he completely missed it.
“Why would we ever come to that?” Annika asked, looking up at him.
Hudson shrugged, those big, destructive shoulders moving in his silky polo shirt. “So don’t. Most of the rest of the building’s already RSVPed yes. Should be a great networking event.” He glanced around the empty office, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you’re having trouble attracting beta testers.”
“I’m not having trouble attracting anyone,” Annika scoffed. Hudson gave her a lascivious smile. “Volunteers,” she specified, to which Hudson arched an eyebrow. Realizing how it probably sounded to someone with Hudson’s twisted mind, Annika rushed on. “Anyway, we don’t need your tasteless party to network.”
June darted her a what-are-you-doing look. They’d talked about it before, how they should network with the other people in the building. It’d be good for business. But in their experience, everyone who worked there had been completely antisocial, unwilling to sit through even a brown bag lunch. Free food! What kind of people refused free food?
Annika narrowed her eyes. “But we might make an exception in this case out of pure curiosity, just to see what kind of a janky-ass party you’ll be putting on.” She paused, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, pretended to check her nails. “How’d you get everyone to RSVP yes, anyway?”
Hudson flashed her his cockiest smile, as if he took her question as a compliment. With his ego the size it was, Hudson probably took comments about the weather as compliments. “All the free booze they can drink on the rooftop, served by LA’s hottest models. Not many people can say no to that.” He winked and turned to go.
Ziggy looked at June with a hopeful smile. “It’s Thursday at five. So, will you be there, June? Because, uh—I’ll—I’ll definitely be there.”
June gave him a polite smile. “Yeah, sure. See you then.”
He left, floating down the hall as if she’d agreed to marry him.
Annika threw her hands up the moment the door closed behind him. “Free booze and hot models. Of course. Why does that not surprise me at all?”
June sighed and sank into her leopard-print chair, a dry-erase marker hanging from her limp hand. “Well, say what you want about Hudson Craft. He really knows how to give people what they want.”
Annika opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. What she’d been about to say to June was, “Yeah, he really does.” Because she’d been thinking about Vegas yet again. About Hudson’s mouth, and his tongue, the way he’d pulled her hair and kissed the arc of her throat. Too bad he’d turned out to be an idea-stealing asshole heading up the world’s most despicable app.
Annika glanced at June, feeling guilty. She’d never told her all of what had happened in Vegas, and they never kept things like that from each other. For now, though, Annika had to keep it to herself. Hudson was a distraction, and neither of them could afford to be distracted.
Anyway, Vegas was immaterial. Her past with Hudson Craft was immaterial.
“Let’s get back to the pitch. We need to be twice as good as Break Up, which means we need to get it nailed down and ready to go ASAP.”
June looked up at her, her eyes hopeful. “You think we still have a shot?”
Annika smiled grimly. “Yeah. A kill shot.”
chapter four
Annika sat on the tiny, definitely-not-code-compliant balcony attached to her apartment and pulled her cardigan tighter to ward off the slight chill in the air. She set her wineglass and phone on the small metal table beside her and took a deep breath. Whatever the weather, she made it a point to spend a few nights a week out here. It was the whole reason she’d gotten the place. She didn’t have a great view—there was a parking lot below—but in the distance, she could see the downtown lights sparkling in the night, and somehow, that felt like home. Seeing evidence of other people, of progress, of this giant, sprawling city breathing and growing and aggressively living, helped her feel less alone. It helped her feel like she was part of something.
Describing people as scattered leaves to June earlier came from a small, scared place deep inside her. Reconnecting people to their loved ones distracted her from her secret conviction that she was never going to find what they had. Ever since she was a teen, Annika had had an abiding sense that if people were made in pairs, like socks, she was the sock the universe had lost in the washing machine. She was displaced, destined to be forever alone.
Which was fine. Everyone had their part to play, and Annika’s part was the matchmaker. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. But she was grateful she got to be part of the periphery.
She took a sip of her wine, feeling it pool in her stomach, flushing her skin with warmth. Colin the beta tester would be coming in the next day, and whatever else might be on her mind, she’d work hard to make sure his time was well spent at the office. She thought of Mr. McManor again, criticizing, weighing, judging her in her space, and closed her eyes, only to see Hudson Craft’s face, his obnoxious smirk as he said he was doing the EPIC contest, too.
Annika took another bolstering sip of wine. He didn’t scare her. Break Up might be having their day in the sun right now, but Make Up was scrappy. Make Up had a tech magic that would appeal to the investors, especially Lionel Wakefield. Make Up was about bettering the world. Surely a philanthropic billionaire would see that.
Taking a deep breath, Annika picked up her phone and dialed her father. She called him once a week, a practice that had started when she’d moved away for college and felt guilty for leaving him all alone.
“Ani,” he said, using her childhood nickname, a smile in his voice. It was pronounced Ah-nee, and it made her feel younger instantly, safe and warm.
“Hi, Daddy.” She could picture him at home in his cavernous study, a glass of expensive scotch at his elbow while he read some dusty old medical journal or other. He had a view of the Hollywood Hills, with nary a parking lot in sight.
“Are you coming home this Saturday for dinner?” he asked.
“Like always.”
“Excellent. I’m making kalua! I had an underground oven installed in the backyard.”
Annika grinned. “An underground oven? Really?” Cooking was her dad’s passion; he loved foodie things more than most people loved their families. His version of a midlife crisis involved not overpriced sports cars but wine cellars and wok ranges.
“Yes, of course. It’s all the rage with the homesteaders, you know. People DIY those in an afternoon.”
“Did you DIY yours?”
“Well, not exactly. But Mike did.”
Annika snorted. Mike was their handyman, who’d indulged many of her dad’s phases. “Right. Well, I can’t wait to see it.”
He made a soft groaning noise, and Annika could picture him leaning back in his leather armchair, ready to have a good chat. Her heart squeezed with affection.
“How was your day, Daddy?”
“Good, good. Medicine still holds its allure for me. It’s a fascinating field of study.”
The unspoken addendum sat between them: “It’s not too late for you. Medical school will change your life for the better.”
He continued, “You know that surgery I was telling you about? The six-year-old with brain cancer?”
“Yeah?”
“Went without a hitch.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Everyone just about cheered when he pulled through it.”
As an anesthesiologist, her dad didn’t have to know much about his patients, but he made it a point to really get to know them anyway. He said the day he dehumanized the people on his table was the day he turned in his medical license.
“That’s awesome! But I’m really not surprised.”
He grunted, pleased. “So, tell me. How’s the business? Oh, congratulations, by the way. I saw your email about the p
iece in that online magazine—what’s it called? Wonder Woman?”
“Women of Wonder,” Annika corrected, shivering lightly in the breeze that had just picked up. “I know it’s no Forbes, but it’s cool because they feature a lot of women entrepreneurs. Plus, I really liked the nickname they coined for me.” She grinned.
“‘Dr. Make Up, the relationship doc,’” her dad quoted. “I have to say, Annika, that’s not what I meant when I said I wanted you to become a physician.”
Annika rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha. To answer your earlier question, Make Up’s doing really well. We have a new beta tester coming in bright and early tomorrow, a networking event on Thursday … busy, busy, busy.” There was no good time to tell your father, who still harbored dreams of you following in his doctorly footsteps, that the bank was sending henchmen out to threaten you for being “grotesquely delinquent.”
“A networking event? That could be good. You’ve been trying to set one up for a long time. It’s nice to hear you’ve had success this time around.”
“It wasn’t exactly me who had success with it.” Annika squeezed the stem of her wineglass, imagining it was Hudson’s neck instead.
“Oh. Well, who did?”
Annika sighed and took a sip of wine, pulling her legs up on the chair, her feet warm in her plushy, heart-motif socks. “A new business moved in down the hallway. It’s called Break Up.”
“Oh, yes, they’re up-and-coming, aren’t they? I remember reading about the CEO in the papers last week. What was his name? Harvey Craft?”
Of course her dad had read about him. She cleared her throat, her hand still tight on the stem of her wineglass. “Hudson Craft.”
“And you … don’t get along with this Hudson?”
Annika closed her eyes, reminding herself of all the awful things Hudson had done. “Yeah, you could say that. Although, I’m not sure anyone could get along with him. Do you know he’s already facilitated three hundred thousand breakups with his awful app? And they hit a million downloads.”