by Camy Tang
“I can’t. I’m trying to find a VC to replace Amity.”
Her face fell into that maddeningly serene expression she’d had for a week. “Any luck?”
“None at all.” He opened his office door with a bit too much force, and the door banged against the wall. Gerry flinched.
“None? What about Williamson? Or—” Her voice pecked at him.
He whirled and growled down at her, “Gerry, they’re not returning my calls.”
She licked her lips. “None of them?”
“We apparently stink like a sewer to everyone right now.”
“Just from one presentation?” Gerry’s hand flapped helplessly. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either.” More sabotage? Did Yardley have influence that rose that high? It didn’t matter—there wasn’t anything Drake could do about it, and the knowledge drove him into the ground like a tent peg, with each unreturned call hitting him as a physical blow.
It was worse that this had happened to Gerry’s company, not his own. “I’d do something if I could.” He turned to lay his briefcase on the floor and boot up his computer.
“You’ve done your best.”
“That’s not good enough, Gerry.”
Something in his tone must have struck her, because she gave him a probing look. “What is this about, really?”
He looked away. “Nothing.”
She regarded him in silence another moment. “Why is it not good enough?”
He didn’t answer her at first, simply watched the icons pop up on his computer screen. He wasn’t sure how to explain it to her. “I didn’t come through for you.” His admission squeezed out of him like the last drop from a lemon.
She leaned over his desk. “Why do you think this is all on you?”
In words like that, he sounded arrogant. “I don’t.” More silence, more shame. “I wanted to make this a success.”
Gerry suddenly straightened. “For me.” It wasn’t a question.
He turned back to his computer. “Of course for you. You’re my sister.” Maybe he could just pass this off.
“You didn’t have to make anything up to me, Drake.”
Everything in him solidified, like marble veining into his muscles and turning him into a statue. He didn’t want to talk about this with her. “Gerry—”
“You were different then. When I was going through the divorce. I understand that, now.” Her eyes were too calm, too loving, too warm.
He had ignored her calls in favor of board meetings. He’d forgotten when he agreed to babysit the kids. He had let her go through that horrendous year all alone.
Gerry smiled at him, and it made his insides twist. “You didn’t have to make anything up to me, but I’m glad you did. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Done what? He hadn’t come through for her then. He hadn’t come through for her now. “Everything is going wrong.” More like crashing and burning.
“You should come with me. The prayer group—”
“Gerry, I am not in a place to pray.”
Her eyes grew soft, which only irritated him more.
“You’re so bitter.”
“You’re so resigned,” he shot back.
“I’m trying to leave it in God’s hands.”
“That’s what Venus said.” He stared at his computer screen. “It sounds like just blind faith to me.”
“It’s not blind.”
He leaned his elbow on his desk and attacked her. “There’s no way for you to know He’s really there. That He’s orchestrating all this—this mess.”
She pursed her mouth and her eyes sparked. “Would you even see the proof if God gave it to you? Would you believe it?”
It made him pause. Would he? His thoughts paralleled Gerry’s next words.
“Your unbelief might be what’s blind.” She stalked out.
He sat there, feeling the emptiness of his office, and wondered if he would ever feel the desire to see.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, thinking and yet trying not to think. His computer had booted up long ago. He brought up an Internet news site.
The story was tucked away near the bottom of the page, after he’d scrolled down reading the other pieces of news, but he jolted as it thrust a spear into his gut.
“Amity Group under litigation for fraud.”
He tried to breathe, but his lungs wouldn’t respond; his diaphragm was pinned to his spine. No. This was…this was…
A sign.
He’d become a bug, suddenly aware of an overshadowing presence that could squash him. The air was thick with Him. He gripped the edge of his desk and closed his eyes.
He wasn’t blind. He saw the proof. And all the while, in His awesome presence, Drake didn’t feel terror, but power. Power far beyond what he could wrap his mind around. He wasn’t made to be able to understand, which is why he just had to trust and believe.
I believe.
Running footsteps. Then Gerry darted into his office and slapped a piece of paper on his desk. “There’s your proof.” No triumph in her voice, but breathless awe.
He looked down at the printout of the article. “Gerry.” He couldn’t say more.
Opening and closing doors. A murmur of commotion. He looked up at his office doorway just as Chieko Sakai strode in, elegant in a silk suit, with eyes fierce and bright.
“Pack your bags. You’re going to Japan tonight.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Venus would kill for a Reese’s.
She eyed the Web director candidate balefully, although her testy mood wasn’t his fault. He was qualified for the position—he just had the personality of a daikon radish. But Web Director didn’t need to win Miss Congeniality.
At least this guy was better than the candidate she’d interviewed late last week. She’d been wearing flats to work since bashing Esme’s car, and the candidate—the Dork, she fondly renamed him—had been about five-ten, maybe five-eleven. He’d taken great pains to look down on her as they shook hands, as they sat at the table (despite the fact her long torso and his short one put her a little above his eye level when they were seated), and as he left the building (none too soon).
She’d thought hard and longingly of the extra pair of stilettos in her desk drawer. But she wiggled her toes in her flats. Remember why you wear them. And she hadn’t missed her aching toes and arches the past few days.
Under the conference table, she kicked her foot up and down. No, she didn’t miss the pain and discomfort at all.
Her cell phone vibrated. Again. She discreetly checked caller ID under the edge of the conference room table. Mom. She’d called twelve times in the last hour.
Venus turned the ringer completely off and tried to look interested as the interviewee (whose name she’d completely forgotten) discussed his work ethic. She had to ask the question, but what was the point? Most people lied anyway. Look at Macy’s ability to deceive, the lying wench.
“So, say someone sabotages the system and it crashes, and it’ll take twelve hours to fix it, and you have to do a demo for an important investor the following morning, but you have your son’s birthday party that night. Do you stay at work to fix it?”
“Uh…”
“I haven’t got all day. Yes or no.”
He blinked at her. “Is this a trick question?”
Er…maybe that was a bit inappropriate.
The door burst open. Venus turned to deliver a scathing rebuke but luckily stopped short beyond uttering, “Erk.”
Grandma stood in the doorway looking a bit like one of the Greek Furies, sans flaming sword. Her eye fell on the interviewee, and her blazing purpose dimmed a bit. “Oh.”
Darla hovered behind her, worried eyes peering into the conference room. Over Grandma’s head, she pointed at the old woman and mouthed, I couldn’t stop her. Venus nodded—anyone who knew Grandma would understand.
“Mrs. Sakai, how nice to see you.” Venus almost started at the sound of
Mom’s voice coming out of her mouth. Maybe she was learning feminine graciousness after all. She had to remember to thank her mother the next time they had lunch. “Would you mind very much waiting in Drake’s office until I finish up here?”
Grandma of all people would know that this wasn’t Venus’s standard reply. She smiled and nodded, but in her eye shone a glimmer of approval. “You’re doing well, dear.” She turned and closed the door behind her.
Venus loosed a long, low breath and turned back to what’s-his-name, the interviewee. “Do you have any questions for me about the position?”
“I’d really like to telecommute a couple days a week. Our son just turned three, and…”
Venus lost the rest of his rambling as her mind grabbed that one word, telecommute.
Jaye telecommuting as Web Director.
Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Was it feasible? She’d need to talk to Drake. And Gerry. And probably Lisa. “Thank you for your time.” She flipped her folio shut.
The interviewee paused, mouth open. Oops, had she cut him off?
Oh well.
She stood and held out her hand. “We’ll be in touch.”
He barely clasped her hand before she pulled away and opened the conference room door. She beat a trail to Drake’s office, flinging open the door. “How do you feel about the Web director telecommuting?”
Gerry had joined Drake and Grandma. The brother and sister had mouths parted and brows furrowed, while Grandma’s chin jutted out, and she turned her firm gaze at Venus as she entered.
Uh-oh. “What?”
“Amity is being investigated—”
“You’re going to Japan—”
Venus froze, her eyes darting from Gerry to Grandma. She said what she felt. “I can’t process.”
Grandma sighed and gestured to Gerry to go first.
“Amity is accused of fraud.” Gerry eyed Drake with a gleam and a half smile, which Venus didn’t understand.
“Amity, as in our lost investor—”
“A s in our close call.”
The air blew out of her lungs in a rush. She hadn’t screwed everything up with that horrendous presentation. Esme and Macy’s efforts had been a godsend, not the sabotage they’d intended. This was too much for her. Relief made her legs weak. “I need a chair.” She stumbled forward and sank into the one Gerry pulled out for her.
Drake looked implacable. Was he completely unmoved? No, maybe the expressionless mask hid emotions too deep for him to want to think about or address. She could barely grasp it herself. They’d escaped from even the briefest connection with Amity.
Grandma’s fingers tap-tap-tapped against each other at her waist. She’d been patient long enough. “Grandma, you said something about Japan?”
“I spoke to Kenta Hoshiwara. His family owns the Hoshiwara Group, a Japanese VC that, so far, has only invested in Japanese toy companies.”
And Grandma, of course, just happened to have his number in her PDA. Hello, Kenta, it’s Chieko. How are the wife and kids?
“I told him about Bananaville, especially its partnership with American toy companies, and he seemed interested in discussing third-round funding. I also knew that some of Hoshiwara’s toy companies are starting to expand and export to the U.S. I set up a meeting.”
Gerry looked ready to bow down and kiss Grandma’s feet. Venus wasn’t far off.
“You three, pack your bags. I’ve made plane reservations for tonight to take us to Tokyo.”
Just think of all those executives naked.
No, that would make me puke faster.
Venus leaned back in her seat. She’d been exhausted ever since the plane left LAX, but she couldn’t sleep. The presentation tomorrow had to be perfect. This was her second chance, her last chance. She stared at her laptop, flipping through slides.
From the seat beside her, Drake muttered, “Stop worrying about it.” He didn’t open his eyes.
“I wasn’t worrying.”
“What happened to ‘trust in God’?”
“Since when did you grow faith?”
He sighed and adjusted his shoulders. “Since we barely escaped being a fireball falling from the sky with Amity.”
“If you put it like that, I suppose it was in the same class as parting the Red Sea.”
“You have no idea.”
She closed her laptop, unable to review the slides anymore.
“There’s no reason to be nervous. You’ve done dozens of presentations.”
“None of them have been set up by Grandma, in front of whom I really don’t want to screw up. None of them had a company’s funding riding on them.” None had been while working for a man she liked more than a little, even though that liking made her want to hide in the closet and protect herself with her stilettos.
Drake snorted. “Stop it, you’re psyching yourself out.”
The truth was, she hadn’t worked on the Spiderweb for a week. Since Oomvid, with more money and more manpower, was developing something similar, why bother? Where would it get her? She didn’t have a team or even a partner for her own game company She had nothing but Bananaville. That’s why this presentation was freaking her out.
Each day in her time with God, she’d asked Him what she should do. She wanted to do something about the entire situation. Each time, the answer was the same.
One day, it had come from Psalms: “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”
The next, from Isaiah: “For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him!”
She even tried to escape the Old Testament and any other admonishments to wait, but her reading happened to be in Colossians: “…being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience…”
The answer was the same now, an unexplainable check on her heart despite her desire to be moving. She gave way grudgingly, but she did give way.
Fine. I’ ll wait.
“You’re not going to throw up, are you?” Grandma frowned at Venus from her side of the conference table.
“No.” She’d hoped that moving the trash can closer to her wouldn’t alert Grandma’s “problem-radar,” but she guessed wrong. She wouldn’t know where the bathrooms were anyway—all the signs were labeled in kanji rather than English.
Gerry moved seats closer to Venus. “It’s not all on you, so stop thinking it is.”
“What?”
“The presentation. Trust God. You won’t be terrible.”
“Let’s not talk about being terrible,” Drake interjected from his seat on Venus’s other side.
“Let’s pray.” Gerry grabbed her hand.
“Now?” Venus glanced at Grandma, who looked uncomfortable and turned her head away “They’re going to come in any minute.”
“So then, I’ll stop when they do.”
“Fine. But don’t hold my hand.” No way would she show a sign of weakness like that to Japanese businessmen.
As Gerry prayed, Venus was able to breathe easier. Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? God already knew how this presentation would go, if they would get funding or not. If Venus would make a complete fool of herself or not. Okay, that wasn’t a pleasant thought.
She opened her eyes and listened to Gerry’s voice, soothing in its cadence. She stared at the grain on the conference table, the pleats in her skirt (Grandma had insisted on a skirt suit instead of a pant-suit because she was presenting to Japanese businessmen), her modest black pumps, her—Oh, no!
“Amen.”
“I’ve got a rip in my stocking!”
The tile floor of the women’s restroom chilled Venus’s stocking-less knees. As she hung over the toilet, she gave another round of thank-yous to God that Hoshiwara had Western toilets and not the traditional squatters. She’d still need a good disinfectant scrub when she finished, but she didn’t even want to think how much worse it could have been to be sick over a squat to
ilet.
A knock on the bathroom door. “Venus? Are you okay now?”
“Yeah.” The waves of nausea seemed to have passed. Drake must look a little ridiculous to be hovering near the women’s bathroom door.
“You don’t sound okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“The presentation went fine, you know.”
It hadn’t felt like it. Although to be honest, she couldn’t remember most of the presentation.
“You weren’t brilliant, but you got through it credibly.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Gerry said you didn’t do as bad as the Amity presentation.”
“Are you trying to hack me off?” She flushed the toilet and rose gingerly to her feet. She swayed a little, but otherwise she seemed in good shape. Her efficient side loved how the fresh water filling the tank first ran through a faucet on top of the tank for people to wash their hands. She had to see if she could import one of these for her condo.
She cleaned up more thoroughly with the help of some wipes from her purse, and exited the bathroom, stopping short of bumping into Drake where he stood in front of the door.
He was very close. She still felt rather gross, but he didn’t seem to mind she’d just been sick. His hand reached up, fingers cupping her face as soft as rice paper. A comforting gesture. And yet, lover-like too, somehow.
She stood still, not sure what to do. His gaze touched her with more intensity than his hand.
She closed her eyes to block out the sight. She sensed him withdrawing. “I don’t know what I want.”
He didn’t answer.
She opened her eyes. He wasn’t angry, he seemed to understand. Or maybe she just wanted to see that understanding in him, whether it was there or not.
She’d been striving for so long on just one thing—the Spiderweb. And now it was gone. Or maybe not gone, but probably useless.
What did she want? And would he still be there when she finally figured out what she wanted?
God didn’t answer. By this time, she was getting used to it.