by Shae Ross
There’s something about Ryan Rose I find…engaging—and it’s not just her kickass body. Full-blown feistiness is not usually the response I draw from women. She has a way of getting riled up quick and taking me right along with her. So far, every conversation we’ve had has resulted in a tongue-lashing—and something about it is enjoyable.
The doors open on the twelfth floor, and she bolts out. I follow along behind her, noting her room number and the perfect curve of her upper leg into her shorts. “See ya in the boardroom, little Rose.”
She snaps her head around, crinkles her nose, and sticks her tongue out at me before she disappears into her hotel room. I can’t help myself; I laugh out loud.
Today we’re to report to Trott Ventures for our first assignments at nine o’clock sharp. The crowd of New Yorkers hustling to work flows down the pavement like water rushing over a riverbed, and I’m feeling like we’re fighting to get upstream as I watch the fourth cab we’ve hailed sail by with disinterest. It’s a quarter to nine, and if we don’t get the next cab, we’re going to be late for our first morning of competition. Shit! In desperation, Ben moves farther out into the street and begins to wave his arms as if he’s signaling the Coast Guard. His six-foot-four, two-hundred-pound-plus frame is impossible to miss.
The porter holds open the hotel door and the girls from Michigan State proceed out in a line led by the Ice Princess herself. She passes by me with her nose pointed skyward, and I admire the movement of her hips under her skirt.
“Hi, Ben,” Devi calls out cheerfully.
“Hey, Dev.” He waves back.
“Good luck today.”
“You, too,” Ben says with a note of enthusiasm in his voice. Vaughn says nothing but he and Jade have nodded to one another and are smiling shyly.
In the time it’s taken Ben and Vaughn to exchange niceties, Ryan has marched a dozen paces ahead of her friends. She steps off the curb, and with exaggerated gusto she flips her long blond hair over the front of her shoulder. It catches wind and soars for a moment like a flag at a drag race. She arches her back and elongates a leg out through the slit in her skirt. Jesus Christ, she’s going to steal our cab. Out of the mass of traffic, a shiny yellow taxi pulls forward and stops beside her. Come on! Seriously?
She’s standing in the street, staring at me. Half of her mouth turns up for a belabored moment before tugging open the door. Devi and Jade load in, and Ryan ducks into the cab beside them. Ben and Vaughn come to stand next to me. We watch the three of them, laughing in the backseat, as the driver speeds away.
“Looks like we might have to make another run for it,” Ben says. I shake my head as I’m breaking into a jog. “We gotta stop letting them do that to us.”
We arrive in front of the Trott Ventures building at exactly 8:58 a.m. The mirrored façade of the building reflects the street traffic, and I see three yellow cabs stream past. Under my shirt my chest prickles with heat, but there’s no time to stay outside and cool off. We’ve got exactly two minutes to make it to the boardroom on the fifteenth floor. Ben and Vaughn follow. Just as I’m stepping into the marbled hallway of the building I see Jade entering the turning door at the opposite side. She’s shouting in a foreign language into her cell phone, exiting as if the building is on fire. We stare at her for a bewildered moment.
Vaughn looks as if he’s thinking about going after her. He must have understood what she was saying.
“Come on, let’s go,” I say, turning his shoulder.
When we arrive in the boardroom, Ryan and Devi are seated, smiling up at us, looking as innocent as schoolgirls on their first day. Jade’s seat is empty, and it’s 9:03 a.m. I’m wondering what’s going on. I find it hard to believe she would choose to be late for our first official board meeting just to take a call…unless it was a dire emergency. Her teammates are sitting with perfect posture, hands folded on the table, ready for business. If there is a problem, they’re not letting on to what it is.
“Nice day for a jog,” Ben says, sarcasm apparent in his voice.
“Really? We wouldn’t know,” Devi says with a shameless smile.
“We took a cab,” Ryan adds, holding up her hand to Devi for a high five.
“You stole a cab,” I say, not bothering to hide my annoyance.
“That wasn’t stealing,” she says, an accomplished look on her face. “That was skill. Watch and learn, boys.”
“I suppose it’s only fitting the party girls from Michigan State would be good at stealing cabs. I’m sure when you all come stumbling out of the bars at midnight, it’s a real cat fight.”
Ryan smacks flat palms against the table, leans forward, and sneers at me. I stand and open my hands. I’m right here, baby. Come and get it. Her mouth purses into a tight expression and I see the reel of insults she’s loading in her mind, getting ready to launch.
The side door of the conference room swings open and the Trott family funnels in. In an attempt to diffuse the situation, Devi’s hand reaches up and tugs Ryan’s forearm, urging her to sit.
“Actually, our bars are open ’til two a.m.,” Devi whispers in a shameless tone and winks as Ryan dismisses me and sits.
Ben raises a finger in the air. “Duly noted,” he responds to Devi and pulls me into my seat.
Just as Mr. Trott takes his seat, Jade slips in through the glass-paneled door. Her gaze darts around the room and lands on the open chair Ryan’s pulling out for her. She looks pale and flustered as she exchanges sympathetic looks with her partners. She sits and the three of them press their game-day expressions into place.
“Good morning,” Mr. Trott calls in a clear, chipper tone. “I trust you all slept well and accommodations are to your satisfaction?” We nod, and everyone exchanges eye contact. The entire family is dressed in dark gray suits, and Mr. Trott begins by apologizing to us for their “wardrobe malfunction.”
“I can assure you this is not Trott Venture’s company uniform.” Mr. and Mrs. Trott look at one another and laugh. Jillian joins them and Robert flashes an enthusiastic grin toward Ryan.
Mr. Trott holds up his arms as if he’s just scored a touchdown, a sealed envelope in each hand. “These envelopes contain your first task, teams, but before we pass out the envelopes, let’s go over the rules of the game.
“Although we intend for this competition to be played out with a spirit of lighthearted fellowship, we also recognize the stakes are high. What you are playing for is real and can be life changing. Many of our former winners have continued their employment with Trott Ventures beyond the contract term and have become valuable assets to our organization.” He pauses for an extended moment and moves a penetrating gaze over each of us. “We know that each of you have that potential.”
As if on cue, Mr. Trott’s daughter, Jillian, opens a manila folder and slides a single document across the table to each of us. “I offer to you the Ten Commandments of this competition.”
I scan the lines: Don’t cheat. Don’t steal. Respect thy competitor… The scratching sound of pens moving on paper fills the air as we all sign the bottom of the document. I collect the contracts from Ben and Vaughn. Jillian nods and smiles as I hand them over. Her face appears softer up close, framed by her copper hair. She has her mother’s green eyes but something about her appears…harsh. I can’t tell if it’s her features or her expressions.
Mr. Trott turns his attention to his children, explaining that Robert Trott will act as mentor to the MSU team, while Jillian will serve our team. Robert smiles at the women as if he’s just been awarded the Triple Crown. Jillian barely acknowledges us.
Mrs. Trott explains the layout of the building to us. “The eighth floor has two office spaces reserved for the teams to use. You will find all the equipment we need to conduct business: laptops, copy machine and scanner, phones, desks, and one conference room to share. You’re in a true business setting here, and all tasks are to be worked on between the hours of nine and five p.m.”
Mr. Trott slides a letter-sized manila
envelope across the table to Ryan, and then to me. I trap it under my fingertips and listen to Jillian deliver the rules. “In the next four days you will be given a task each day. At the end of the day, you will turn in your work. We, she motions to her family, “along with our board, will judge your work and scores will be given for each completed task. At the end of the week, points will be tallied and the winning team will be awarded twelve-month contracts to work at the Manhattan office of Trott Ventures.”
Robert stands up and rubs his palms together. “Salaried positions of $100,000 each and a signing bonus of $100,000 to be split by the winning team. Unless you have questions, my sister and I will escort you to the eighth floor. You can open your task envelopes there.” He raises his eyebrows looking for questions. Seeing none, the Trotts stand and wish us good luck.
We follow Jillian up to the eighth floor. She enters a large room that boasts a two-sided view of Manhattan. Nice. The third wall is glass, and I see the girls funneling in behind Robert. Keeping tabs on what they’re doing might have some benefit, and if not, at least I’ll be able to stare at Ryan through the glass.
“I am here to assist you with anything you need help with this week,” Jillian says, her face as stone serious as Mount Rushmore as she hands me the envelope. I tear it open and read aloud.
“Trott Ventures is ready to GO GREEN! Your mission today is to craft a plan that reduces the carbon footprint of the company on a global scale. Each team is allotted a budget of one million dollars to use in implementing the sustainability plan. All proposals should include the estimated reduction of global emissions and resulting savings to the company.”
A flash of excitement shoots through me. I spearheaded this very project at Jett Industries last summer. In my mind I’m dropping to one knee and fist pumping.
Jillian smiles and slides a glossy Trott Ventures folder across the desk to me. “This contains information on all of our offices, including number of employees, energy bills, and detailed information regarding operations at each location.”
Vaughn flips open his laptop and starts hammering away at the keys.
“Can we tour the building, Jillian?” I ask. I know from my own research of Trott Ventures that Trott owns each of the buildings at their locations that house operations. Their New York location is the oldest and largest.
“Sure.” Jillian points the way and then leaves us to our own devices.
“What are we looking for?” asks Ben.
“Ways to make the buildings and work force more energy efficient—and I’m hoping the girls will only focus on one of those applications.”
“Let’s head to the basement and check out the boiler room,” Ben says. We wind our way through the floors and down into the guts of the building. Along the way we examine the heating and cooling systems, lighting, electricity, appliances—anything we can think of that uses energy. We also take a few minutes to talk to the shift managers on each floor. We question them about the tasks their departments accomplish on a daily basis and the work habits of the employees they manage. When we return to the conference room on the eighth floor, we each have several pages of notes. It’s eleven thirty and our proposals are due by four. Plenty of time.
“My thoughts are that we present our proposal in a two-pronged approach,” I lead off. “The first prong focuses on how to make the actual buildings more efficient. Depending on how old the building is and what systems they’re running, we can propose updates that will save energy and money. We can also do some research to see if there are any government tax credits available for certain upgrades. The second prong involves analyzing how Trott employees use energy on a daily basis and what we can do to change their habits.”
Vaughn adds, “Based on what we observed, statistics provided online, and the information in our folder, we should be able to approximate the savings at each location.”
“If there are facts you need about our other locations, I can find you the answer,” Jillian, who has rejoined us, volunteers. I glance through the glass wall to the girls. Robert is sitting with one hip on the table, swinging his leg and chatting casually with them. I smile to myself. Jillian may not be the queen of warm and friendly, but she’s beginning to look like more of an asset than Romeo.
We map out our game plan and get to work.
I dial Sally’s number direct, not bothering to call my dad’s voicemail, which is a virtual black hole after seven a.m. It’s Sally, his senior executive assistant, who’s answered my calls and responded to my general needs for the past eight years. It’s Sally who transfers the money into my account to pay tuition, who makes sure our house is stocked with food when I’m home for the summer, and even though she’d never admit it, it’s Sally who shops for my Christmas and birthday presents.
“Hi, Jett. How’s it going?” The vision of her round, light-skinned face appears before me, and the warmth in her voice reaches out to me through the phone. From the time I was fourteen years old, I spent every holiday at Sally’s house, stuffed with sweet potato casserole, playing Call of Duty with her boys, Marcus and Samuel—not the most traditional family, but it took the sting away from missing Mom.
I chat with her for a few minutes and then ask if she can send me over a listing of the energy-efficient updates Jett Industries did to our buildings last summer and the government programs that afforded credits. I hear her fingernails tapping away at her keyboard. “Got it right here. Should I email you?”
“That’d be perfect.”
“Hey, if you get a little behind reviewing the ledgers, I’ll stall your dad. You’ve got enough on your plate this week.”
“That’s all right, Sally. I’ll manage.”
“You can call me if you need anything, you know that.”
“Yep, I know.”
“Good luck, Jett. We’re all rooting for you.”
“Thanks, Sally. You’re the best.” I hang up the phone, and her email pings through—the full report on all of the Jett Industries upgrades, the actual data showing savings and emission reductions, complete with pie charts and ladder graphs. Bingo.
At four p.m. I’m watching Little Miss Michigan State. Her legs are crossed and she’s bouncing an ankle with hyper speed.
We are gathered just outside the glass windowed boardroom waiting to be called in for half-hour presentations. I’ll be delivering the proposal on behalf of our team. I got this.
Vaughn and I lean against the back wall, while Ben stands in front of the oversized chairs that the girls are sitting in. “So how’d it go, ladies? Think you’re ready?” He’s swinging his arms out in front of him and snapping his fingers, trying to engage them.
“Great. It went great. And yes, we’re ready.” Ryan clips out the words with mechanical precision and turns to me. “And how’d it go for Team Jett?”
I smile but decide not to be baited into a conversation that could reveal details of our proposal. She continues to stare expectantly at me, annoyance growing on her face.
Ben starts in again. “I was thinking maybe we should make a little side bet.”
“What kind of side bet?” Ryan asks.
“Well, maybe we should all put a little skin in the game…for the sake of the fine institutions from which we hail.” I know exactly where Ben’s going with this, and I’m smiling inside just thinking about it.
“What do you mean ‘skin in the game?’” Ryan’s directing the question toward Ben but she’s looking at me.
Ben stops moving and rests his hands on his hips. “Tats,” he says with a big grin.
“Tats?” Ryan echoes.
“Tattoos. He’s talking about tattoos,” Devi clarifies.
Ryan blinks hard and then recovers her coolness.
I’m all over this. Nothing would make me happier than to see a maize and blue M tattooed on her ass.
I push my shoulder off the wall and I stalk toward her. “If Team Ryan wins, Team Jett gets tattooed with the Spartan logo. And…if Team Jett wins, you girls ink up the Mi
chigan M.”
“You mean wins today or wins the whole competition?” she asks.
“All in—the whole competition,” I respond. I see her lips quivering with indecision, and I move in for the kill. “You girls are awfully quiet. I would think it’d be a no-brainer. That is, if you really thought you could beat us.” Ryan lowers her chin and scowls at me.
“Any objections?” she asks Jade and Devi. Their expressions are blank. My guess is no one wants to be the one who chickens out. Ryan slaps her hand on the low table in front of her. “Deal.”
“Well, all right,” Ben says with a laugh in his voice. “See, that’s how this works, ladies. We’re working it out, making agreements, having some fun with each other now.” He’s rocking back and forth, toe to heel.
Robert sticks his head out of the boardroom, and we all stand at attention.
“Ladies, they’ve asked me to call you in first. Be back for you in one minute,” he says, extending a finger. Ryan runs a smoothing hand over her skirt. I’m looking at her, smiling. She points her nose into the air, purposefully avoiding my gaze, but I’m not going to let her off that easy.
I slide next to her and whisper beside her ear, “You ever had a tattoo before?” Her stance shifts slightly and she hesitates before answering.
“No,” she says, dismissing me.
“That’s too bad,” I say, rubbing my jaw. “It really hurts.”
She clenches and snaps her head toward me as if she’s ready to go off. As her mouth opens, Robert opens the door to the boardroom and motions them in.
Ben steps in front of me, blocking my view of Ryan’s pissed-off pout. “Good luck, ladies,” he says in an apologetic tone as she passes. Ryan follows Devi and Jade into the conference room and the door clicks shut. Ben turns on me.
“Dude, I had them all loosened up. Why did you have to move in and go for the jugular?”