It took Georgetown a little longer to fire Milo, by failing to renew his contract under the auspices of “moving the department in a new direction.” By the time they let him go, Bridget was ready to take him on as her corporate Chief Operating Officer, her fourth hire as President and CEO of NeuroGenysis. Any jitters felt by founding investors at his unconventional background and relative lack of corporate experience soon evaporated once exposed to his singularly uncommon intellect and powers of deduction. Milo’s photographic memory never failed to impress, whether he was memorizing the names and faces of a thousand conference attendees within seconds or reciting textbook-precise explanations of NeuroGenysis technologies. Combining his abilities with an unblinking devotion to Bridget’s vision, Milo had already become quite a force for the nascent company.
The phone in Milo’s pocket buzzed, ringer set to silent. Milo surreptitiously snuck a peek at the screen.
“It’s Joanne,” Milo whispered to Bridget. “Probably for you—do you want to take it?”
Bridget thought for a moment before answering. “This could be about the offer. Yes—I ought to talk to her.”
Phone still vibrating within his pocket, Milo took Bridget by the hand and led her past rows of knees and to the aisle, darkness and soft carpeting masking their escape from the speech.
“Where is Joanne these days?” asked Bridget.
“Thailand with friends, last time I heard,” answered Milo. It was only the latest in the barrister’s far-flung travels, her response to the suffocating persistence of British press photographers. As much as her social circle loved joining Joanne on her lengthy vacations, they were not yet used to her disconcerting habit of disappearing into deep, dark places without so much as a battery-powered penlight.
Charlie continued with the overproduced, pompous speech as Bridget and Milo exited the rear doors of the opera house, stepping into the long, high-ceilinged corridor. They hadn’t made it in time—the phone had stopped buzzing.
“You’ll have to keep it short with Joanne when you call her back,” said Milo. “Don’t forget—you have the phone interview with Lillian at Forbes in twenty minutes.”
Bridget grabbed Milo by his elbow, pulling him toward her so she could give him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks,” she said. “I like a man who is cognitively incapable of forgetting appointments and anniversaries.”
The pair stepped out of the Kennedy Center and onto the grand, airy balcony that looked over the Potomac River. They stood at the railing, Bridget closing her eyes as she took in the soft summer breeze. Milo wrapped his hands around her waist from behind.
“Should I call Joanne back?”
“In a minute. Let’s enjoy the sun for a moment longer.”
THE END
The Maw Page 29