The Next Big Thing

by Sadie Hayes

  Adam didn’t hear her; his head was spinning as he sucked the booze through the straw, his anger shifting from Lisa back to Amelia. I do everything for her, he seethed. I make sure she doesn’t get in trouble when she hacks into things, I figured out how that knockoff RemoteX was sabotaging us in Maui, I saved the company during her meltdown, I drove her to freaking San Francisco for an event I couldn’t even attend. And this is how she repays me? By letting some spoiled cheater lead me on?

  Lisa cut into her sandwich and kept her eyes on her food. Watching her calmly bite her chicken further infuriated Adam.

  “You are unbelievable, you know? Your nerve?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “How dare you call my sister.”

  “How dare you buddy up with my father.”

  “It’s such a waste you got him as a dad. I’ll trade you him for Amelia—you two deserve each other.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I meeaan”—he was starting to slur his words—“What a screwed-up world that we’re both orphans and I get no parents in Indiana and you get Ted Fricking Bristol and a mansion in Atherton! And you and T.J. don’t even appreciate him.”

  Lisa tensed. “What do you know about my relationship with my father? You have no right to judge.”

  “Your father would rather have someone like me as a son than your brother, I know that much.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “Why else would he be my mentor?” Adam asked proudly. “What do you think of that? He’s coaching me through Doreye. Through all the annoying crap your brother and my sister are putting me through. Your father’s the only one who sees what I am capable of.”

  Lisa pushed the food on her plate with her fork, clearly upset.

  Adam picked up his third drink and stared Lisa in the eye. “He’s going to help me fulfill my potential. Then you’ll be sorry you chose Sundeep over me. When I’m running some big company and don’t even remember your name.”

  “You shouldn’t get close to my father,” Lisa said, and returned his cold stare.

  Adam laughed. “You’re just jealous. Daddy’s little girl has to compete with a new favorite. Imagine what he’d think if I told him what a whore you are.”

  Lisa pushed her plate at him and stood up. “You’re an ass.” She pulled her coat off the chair and started to storm out of the bar.

  Through his alcoholic haze, Adam panicked and stood up. “Wait, Lisa, wait—I didn’t mean it. How are you going to get home?”

  “I’ll take the train.”

  “But I—” He grabbed her arm but she pulled away violently.

  “I don’t need you, Adam. I thought I did, once, but I don’t, okay?”

  The bar door slammed behind her and Adam looked sheepishly around him as people’s eyes turned back to their meals. He waved to the bartender and said, “Another Jack and Coke, please.”

  11

  Things That Go Beep in the Night

  “Roll onto your side … that’s it … all the way over … there … now just stay still,” said the nurse, a rotund woman in pink polka-dot scrubs, coaching Roger from his backside, where she was administering a shot into his butt cheek.

  Roger lifted an eyebrow and gave T.J. a knowing glance.

  “Almost done,” she said cheerily.

  Roger offered a closed-lipped smile to her broad grin and said, “But you didn’t buy me dinner first.”

  T.J. burst into laughter. Which made Roger burst into laughter. Which made the nurse yell at Roger for moving too much while she had a needle in his butt cheek.

  Once she departed, Roger readjusted his hospital gown. “Enjoy the women while you can, T.J. One day the only attention you’ll get is a polka-dotted nurse injecting your ass with hormones.”

  T.J. smiled at Roger, who was handling his illness with characteristic dry humor. “You’re looking better this week; how are you feeling?”

  “Comes and goes,” Roger answered honestly. He paused for a moment. “It’s already spread to my bones.”

  T.J. could feel goose bumps across his skin. He didn’t know a lot about cancer, but he knew by the gravity in Roger’s voice that this wasn’t good. “Do you feel okay?” he asked, his voice just beyond a whisper.

  “They’ve got stuff to manage the pain. Apparently there’s a club in Berkeley for guys with prostate cancer to do LSD,” Roger offered positively.

  “LSD? That’s allowed?”

  “Hallucinogens are a pain management technique in many cultures. The Huichol people use peyote. Other tribes use magic mushrooms. I plan to appeal any legal charges on cultural grounds.”

  “Which culture is that, Roger?”

  “Who cares? These cases never actually get through the courts because the defendants all die before the appeals process is finished. We infirmed are a prosecutor’s worst nightmare!”

  T.J. couldn’t share his laughter at that morbid reality.

  Roger was nonplussed. “Did you know that a million years ago at Xerox PARC, when we came up with the Internet, we were all tripping on LSD? Maybe this time I’ll come up with something even crazier.”

  T.J. wasn’t encouraged by this. “Have you told Amelia yet?”

  “No,” Roger admitted. “I told her I was going away for a while to give me cover, but I didn’t tell her the reason. I wasn’t sure she could handle it. Have you heard how the photo shoot went?”

  “Yeah,” T.J. said as he grinned and pulled his iPhone proudly out of his pocket, “Brandon sent me the photos. Patty did an awesome job cleaning her up.”

  Roger took the phone, but as he flipped through the photos his face went white.

  “What are you doing, T.J.?” he said softly but firmly.

  T.J. looked up at him innocently. “What do you mean?”

  “You sent someone to ‘clean her up’?”

  “Brandon wouldn’t put her on the list unless she looked hot. And she does. She is.”

  Roger carefully studied T.J.’s face.

  “What?” T.J. asked defensively. “I got her on the list, didn’t I?”

  The older man sniffled.

  Now T.J. was annoyed. “Honestly, Roger. If I hadn’t sent Patty they wouldn’t have put Amelia in. And if Forbes had photographed Amelia in her normal state—with food on her shirt and all that—people would have made a total mockery of her. I’m not saying she has to be hot, I’m saying it’s my duty not to let her invite humiliation. I didn’t make the rules.”

  “I guess I’m just a little surprised Amelia went for it.”

  “Maybe she’s starting to get it.”

  “Or maybe she’s doing it for someone else.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “Be careful, T.J. She’s not one of your sorority girls.”

  T.J.’s jaw clenched and he looked Roger straight in the eyes and said firmly, “I know that.”

  The two men held the glare for a moment, searching each other’s eyes for deceit. As close as Doreye had brought them, T.J. knew Roger had never let go of the early hesitations he’d expressed during their first meeting at University Café.

  “She’s come to mean a lot to me,” Roger said. “I don’t want to see her hurt.”

  “Neither do I,” T.J. said, and meant it. “But sheltering her from reality isn’t doing her any favors. And the reality is that the press likes women better when they’re pretty. Lucky for us, Amelia has it, she just needs help showing it.”

  “I think you overestimate that ‘reality.’”

  “You can’t protect her forever, you know.”

  “I know,” Roger conceded. “I just don’t think she’s ready.”

  “She isn’t, or you aren’t?”

  “I’m dying, T.J. How is one ever ready for that? She’s my last mentee, my last chance at having a legacy that lasts beyond me. Please don’t let her lose it.”

  12

  Miss Taken Identities

  Adam paid the bill and moved to a seat at the bar, his em
otions flipping between shame and rage.

  He was embarrassed by his behavior—at how unwilling he’d been to even give her a chance and how humiliating it was that she’d called him on it in front of the entire bar. But then he remembered what an unacceptable thing she’d done and felt his jaw pulse with anger at the way she thought she could toy with him and lie to him like his feelings didn’t matter. But then he thought about her hair and about how he used to have permission to touch it, and he felt his heart break all over again.

  He took a swig of his drink. Enough about Lisa. That was over. That was done. He’d moved on to bigger things—to big-deal mentors and … and a pathetic post managing human resources for his sister’s company. How could his current reality—demoted position, no girlfriend—be so disconnected from the version of himself he’d thought he’d become?

  His brain was fuzzy from the booze and he looked around as if noticing he was in a bar for the first time. A basketball game was playing on the television screen behind the bartender, and he tried to focus his eyes on the ball, but couldn’t quite make it out. Where had he gone wrong? The game cut to an ad for the local news, where a broadcaster offered a sneak peek at tonight’s big story. Adam squinted to see the shot, which looked like it was at … Oh my God—was that Amelia? The shot cut to a banner for Forbes’s Thirty Under Thirty.

  Adam stood up, grabbing on to the bar to steady himself, and pulled his face closer to the television. Who are they interviewing? Adam squinted again. Oh my God. It’s Amelia.

  His chest instinctively filled with pride: His sister was on television! And she looked beautiful! But then his brain clicked and he lost his smile. His sister was being praised as a genius, his sister who betrayed him and made him look like an idiot in front of the only girl he’d ever loved. His sister was laughing on television and he was alone at a bar. How could she leave him like this?

  Adam shook his head in a desperate attempt to sift out all the anger and pain and self-doubt. He could follow Ted’s advice about being patient as COO all day long, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give Amelia a piece of his mind.

  He snorted with anger, downed his drink, put a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, and headed for the St. Francis.

  * * *

  This time there was no security to stop him.

  He tried to focus his vision as he found his way up to the event and into a huge conference room scattered with remnants of the day’s activities. He peered around the room for Amelia, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness and the fact that the booze was causing his brain to take just a little longer than usual to process everything he saw.

  “Is that the famous Mr. Dory?” a woman’s accented voice called from behind him. He turned to find a gorgeous blonde in a short black dress with piercing eyes smile at him. Adam was caught off guard as the woman reached out to touch his arm. “It is! Adam Dory, what a pleasure to see you again. Why aren’t you in the Doreye photos?”

  Adam swayed on his feet, his eyebrows furrowed. He recognized this woman, but couldn’t figure out from where.

  “I mean, you’re the real brains in the operation. I never did understand why Amelia always got all the credit.”

  “Not anymore. Not for long. No more Mister Nice Adam. It’s time for her to share,” Adam blurted.

  The woman smiled, satisfied she’d struck a chord.

  Where was she from? “Have you seen my sister?” he asked bluntly.

  “Sure”—she smiled and pointed—“she’s right over there. I hardly recognized her.”

  Adam walked away, then realized he’d just abandoned a gorgeous woman who was complimenting him, and turned back around. “Wait there,” he said, lifting a finger to indicate he’d only be a minute. “I’ll be right back. I have to talk to my sister, but I’m not done with you.”

  The woman smiled and said, giggling, “I’m not going anywhere, Adam.”

  Adam spotted Amelia laughing with a reporter, her hair curled in pretty perfection that made him even more annoyed.

  “Amelia!” he called out as he walked toward them. “Amelia, we need to talk.”

  “Adam!” She didn’t look pleased. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “They wouldn’t let me in,” he said, swaying on his heels. “Only you and Patty were on the list.” He spat the words at her, then demanded: “We need to talk.”

  “Adam, have you been drinking?”

  He ignored her. “You pretend like you’re innocent, and so people let you have everything—the photo shoot and all that—but you’re not innocent. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

  Amelia jumped up from the stool and tried to pull him to a corner. “Adam, let’s go over here.”

  But he batted her away. “No! You can’t hold me back!”

  “How am I holding you back, Adam?” Amelia said in a quiet, deliberate voice.

  “You’re a liar!”

  “What did I lie about, Adam?” Amelia was quiet and patient, as if trying to calm down a child, which only made Adam angrier. He wasn’t a child.

  “You knew about Lisa!” Adam bellowed. “You knew about Lisa and Sundeep the whole time and you never told me!” He felt his heart break all over again as he said the words out loud.

  Amelia moved toward him, her arms wide to embrace him in a hug, but he moved back.

  “Oh, Adam,” she said, her face wracked with guilt. “Adam, I’m so sorry. It killed me. Every single day it killed me. But I didn’t know what to do, Adam, I swear. I swear I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Just tell me,” Adam pleaded. “All you had to do was tell me.”

  “I didn’t think you’d listen.”

  “How would I not listen?” Adam’s voice was cracking. “You’re my sister. My twin sister. And my best friend.”

  “Adam, I’m so, so sorry.” Tears were forming in Amelia’s eyes in reaction to her brother’s pain.

  Adam snorted, his pride reemerging as his brain reminded him why he’d come here in the first place.

  “Adam,” Amelia said, her soft-but-stern voice returning, “Adam, I think you need to sit down. Let me get you some water.”

  “No!” Adam belted. “No! No! No!” He shook his head violently.

  “Adam can come with me,” a woman’s British-accented voice interrupted. The blond girl-woman from earlier appeared next to Adam. “It’s probably not a good idea for you two to be together right now. I can take care of him,” she said, turning to Amelia. “I owe you one after Maui.”

  Adam still couldn’t figure out who this woman was, but he liked having her here, by his side, facing off against Amelia. She was like his sidekick.

  “Violet? What are you doing here?” Amelia took on a very serious tone as she addressed the woman.

  Violet, Adam thought. What a beautiful name. He turned to look at her. Gosh, she was pretty.

  “I’m just trying to help your brother, Amelia.”

  “Trying to help?” Amelia scoffed. “Please leave us alone.”

  “No!” Adam jumped to Violet’s defense. Maybe I will go with her after all, he thought. She’d said such nice things about him, and she was really pretty.

  “Adam, don’t you realize who this is? This is the woman from RemoteX. Our competitor? This is the woman who sabotaged our demo in Hawaii. This is the woman who posed as a reporter and grilled me on our past.”

  “So I was working for a competitor; can you blame me for trying to win?” Violet explained innocently. “Things are different now. RemoteX is done and we have no reason to be on bad terms. Let me make it up to you both.”

  “How can you possibly expect us to be friends after that?” Amelia’s jaw jutted forward. She was dumbfounded.

  “You can’t blame her for being good at her job,” Adam said matter-of-factly.

  “I assure you,” Violet soothed, “RemoteX is a thing of the past; you and Doreye can have the whole market. I’m on to bigger and better things.” Adam felt Violet’s soft, delicate fingers grasp his arm, w
hich made the skin on his neck shiver.

  “Yeah, Amelia. Don’t get so sensitive.”

  “Adam, you’re drunk. You’re in no state—”

  The accusation infuriated Adam and he cut his sister off. “What do you know about me and my state? I’m going with Violet. Figure out your own way home.”

  Adam heard Amelia’s voice plead behind him as he turned to the door, but wasn’t sure what she said. Violet was by his side, and he was going wherever she wanted to take him. From now on, Adam was putting himself first.

  13

  Detour

  Amelia could feel her stunned pulse slowly beating as Adam stormed out with a victoriously smiling Violet. The few people left in the room slowly dropped their stares and went quietly back to what they’d been doing.

  “Do you need a ride?” Riley’s soft voice startled Amelia. “I’m heading back down to the Peninsula; I could drop you on campus.”

  Amelia looked up; Riley was holding her coat in one hand and Amelia’s backpack in the other. “Yes. I could use a ride,” Amelia admitted, too worn out to insist on not being an inconvenience.

  “Come on,” Riley said, tilting her head toward the door, “let’s get out of here.”

  Amelia walked in silence next to Riley, who politely smiled and said good-bye and thank you to all the Forbes people and St. Francis staff and even the valet who pulled a red Saab convertible around and ushered Amelia into the passenger seat.

  Riley turned the heat on in the car and plugged her iPhone in to connect to the car’s stereo. “Do you like the xx?” she asked, as the band started streaming through her phone to the speakers.

  “Sure,” Amelia said meekly.

  “My dad was a musician, so I’m kind of a music junkie,” she said kindly.

  Amelia knew Riley was trying to make her feel better with the small talk, and she appreciated it.

  Riley guided the car out into the street and asked, “Are you hungry at all?”

  Amelia thought about food for the first time all day and realized she hadn’t eaten anything since a bowl of cereal that morning and was, in fact, starving. “Yeah, actually I am really hungry.”