Also an asterisk: the site engineer. Ava was embarrassed that she had prematurely disclosed her crush to Jaime. She wished she could strike the admission from the record. But Jaime apparently wanted to do the opposite.
She had successfully dodged his questions by busying herself with this year’s Solstice Party, which would be celebrating the Very Nice Box. Ava was quietly proud—its sales surpassed this year’s runner-up, the Frank Dresser, by a significant margin.
But now that the day of the party had arrived and her work was done, she met up with Jaime for lunch knowing that she could no longer dodge the subject of the woman in the hardhat or, worse, Mat.
“Okay, which one is she?” Jaime said, peering out the window.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Ava lied.
“Yes you do,” Jaime said. “Tell me!”
“Oh god,” Ava said. “It’s not even a crush. I just like the way she works, that’s all. I admire it.”
“What ever you want to call it,” Jaime said. “Which one? Show me.”
Ava pointed out the window. “That one. In the red crew shirt and hardhat. But it’s not a crush.” The woman was directing a large truck as it backed up toward the Vision Tower. She raised her hands for the driver to stop, then hopped on the back of the truck and pulled open its doors.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Jaime said. “That’s Dev! The first time I saw her was on my Vandals footage, and I asked her for some help tracking down a couple kids who were messing with the construction site. And actually she told me something kind of crazy.”
“Crazy how?” Ava said. She watched a crew of men carry planks of wood out of the truck.
“Apparently STÄDA begged her to sign on to the construction project. She told me STÄDA Corporate has cut all sorts of corners with the Vision Tower.”
“Like what?”
“Building code violations, environmental codes, all sorts of stuff. Apparently that little steam cloud can’t even pass an environmental impact test.” He looked smugly at Ava. “Once again I am refraining from saying ‘I told you so.’ Also, there are apparently huge structural problems because of a glass-bottom lap pool Corporate demanded they build. Dev said she thinks the Department of Buildings was bribed to keep quiet about everything.”
“You’ve just been keeping this to yourself?” Ava said.
“You’ve been busy with the Solstice Party,” Jaime said.
“What a mess,” Ava said, squinting out the window.
“More importantly,” Jaime said, “she’s hot. Let me text her to see if she’s single. And the construction site isn’t that far away. We could walk over there now, see what she’s up to.”
“No,” Ava said. “Absolutely not. I don’t care who it is. I just respect her skill.” She felt her cheeks burning and cleared her throat. “Jaime, I—I have to tell you something. You’re not going to like it, but I trust you.”
Jaime put away his phone, opened his Humble Lunchbox, and began spooning vegetables and tofu into a lettuce cup.
“Are you okay? Did Mat try to get in touch with you? Did you forget to change your locks? Because I told him he better not try to, that you were filing a restraining order.”
“You what?” Ava said.
“It definitely shut him up.”
Ava closed her eyes. “This is what I wanted to talk to you about. I know you hate him and think he’s irredeemable, but—”
“Ava . . .”
“But we talked about it—all of it,” she said. “And I’ve come to understand his point of view and why he did what he did.”
“What? Ava, how?” Jaime waved a hand in front of her face. “Ava, is that you?”
Ava swatted his hand away. “Don’t be condescending. It’s complicated.”
“No it’s not!”
Her neck became hot. “He’s actually not a fraud. I mean yes, he lied on his résumé and is into weird self-help for boys. Yes. I know.” She waved off Jaime, who had begun to interject. “But . . . this horrible thing happened to him.” She described the article, and Jaime listened without interrupting, his expression inscrutable, which made Ava feel conscious of every word she spoke. “You can look up the article,” she said. “In a strange way, it explains a lot.”
“So because he got stuffed into a Dumpster a decade ago, you’re just . . . okay with all of it? That’s it? He’s forgiven? Ava, you saw the footage I sent you. He’s dangerous!”
“I would hardly call him dangerous,” Ava said.
“You’re refusing to acknowledge what’s right in front of you!”
“Please don’t lecture me,” Ava said sharply. “Maybe you wouldn’t have forgiven him, but I did.”
Jaime’s expression hardened. He shook his head. “I really don’t get you.”
“You were supportive the other night,” Ava said. “Why can’t you be that way now? Why does it always have to be on your terms?”
“I’m trying to be a good friend,” Jaime said. “I’m once again trying to protect you. Not that you’d return the favor.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Where were you when he reassigned me to that stupid Vandals program? I liked my job. I liked Engineering. I liked working with you. He basically demoted me because I wasn’t falling all over him.”
“What could I have done?” Ava said. “Judith wouldn’t have let you leave.”
“You didn’t know that, and you didn’t even try.” Jaime’s eyes shone. “You know what, I’m done. I can’t waste any more of my energy trying to pull you out of your denial.”
Ava shut her Sensible Bento Box. “I need to get back to work,” she said.
“Fine,” Jaime said, “but don’t expect me to pick up the pieces the next time.”
She made her way to the elevators and back to her desk, feeling indignant and hurt. That was fine. She could put that energy to work. Helen Gross had asked her for a new scratching post design by the end of the month, and Ava was going to deliver. She was building an Intoxicating Scratching Post, a wall-mounted fixture made of sisal and a base that she would prototype in wood and metal. She could trick herself into caring about it. She focused on the design until all other thoughts disappeared.
She completed a rendering just as a text arrived from Mat: he was around the corner from the Simple Tower. He was going to take her out to dinner before the Solstice Party. Ava knew that she would likely be the one picking up the bill—his job with Praxis hadn’t started yet—but she didn’t mind. She had the money, and she had learned to consider the time Mat spent with her as a form of currency. After dinner Mat would drop her off at the Simple Tower, where she would make a quick appearance at the Solstice Party, long enough to satisfy the Spirit team. And Mat would be waiting for her in the parking lot, ready to drive her home the moment she wanted to leave.
She made her way down the elevator and to the parking lot just as he pulled up. When she got into his car, he leaned over to kiss her. His lips were warm. “Hey, Lamby,” he said. “How was your day?”
“Good, the usual,” she said.
Mat put the car in Drive and turned on an episode of Thirty-Minute-Machine. “I’m a fastidious guy,” the caller said. “But I find cat litter all over my apartment. It’s in my bedding, on the kitchen counter, you name it. I’ve tried every litter on the market. They all track. I want a simple, functional litter box that keeps the tracking at bay and goes with my Scandi design taste.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Ava said, though she was already sorting out solutions in her head. A lid with slats or holes? A multilevel box?
“So glad we have a dog,” Mat said. A breeze filtered through his open window.
We, Ava thought. She forced away a memory of Emily and listened as the hosts of Thirty-Minute Machine began to brainstorm; she was satisfied to hear them float the possibility of slats. “Where are we going for dinner?” she asked.
“I thought you’d never ask!” Mat said. “Recognize the route we’re taking
?”
“Back to my apartment?”
“Kinda!”
He pointed ahead. NASTY PIZZA.
“Oh my god,” Ava said, smiling.
“I told you we would go there one day, and I’m a man of my word.”
Ava knew not to challenge his proclamation. He parked outside the restaurant, and together they walked inside. It was small and packed, with flickering lighting and tall, circular tables. They ordered at the counter.
“I know this isn’t like me,” Ava said as the cashier rang them up, “but I am actually looking forward to the Solstice Party. Planning with Spirit was actually fun. They’re raffling off all sorts of crazy stuff this year.”
“Totally,” Mat said, but he sounded bored and scanned the restaurant for an empty table. “I think those people are leaving, so I’ll grab their spot if you’re okay to pay?” Ava nodded. She wondered whether she should switch this line of conversation; STÄDA had proven to be a fraught topic between them ever since Mat’s failed attempt to get his job back.
“Are you sure you want to wait in the parking lot tonight?” she said, joining him at the table. She set a tray of three pepperoni slices in front of him. “Won’t that be . . . I don’t know, awkward? Boring? I’m sure I could get a ride home from someone.”
“Why would it be awkward or boring?” Mat said, dabbing his pizza slices with a napkin. “I can use the STÄDA Wi-Fi to do some freelance work from the car, then drive you home as soon as you’re ready. Besides,” he said, “it’s not like everyone at STÄDA hates me. I could probably even make an appearance. I saw the invite. Plus-ones are invited. Wow! This pizza is actually so good!”
“Please don’t make an appearance,” Ava said. “We know how that went last time.”
“True,” Mat said, his mouth full. “Can’t deny that was pretty rough.” He smiled at her while he chewed. For the first time since meeting him, Ava was immune to his charm. She took a small bite of her plain slice and checked her Precise Wristwatch.
After leaving the restaurant, they quickly got stuck in a snarl of traffic. The sun was enormous and lit up every smudge on the windshield. The Thirty-Minute Machine episode was nearing its end. Cars crammed together, spilling out into the breakdown lane. Even cyclists were having trouble getting through the knot. They inched forward until they hit a red light. Across from them on the other side of the light, a woman sat in her station wagon, facing them.
As the podcast hosts mused about AstroTurf versus fake grass, Ava saw something that sent her stomach into her throat.
“Lamby, you good?” Mat said, turning the volume down.
But Ava could not speak.
It was the woman on the other side of the red light. She’d squinted and pulled her sun visor down to block a current of light that was beaming directly into her face. Ava tracked the light to its source: the disco ball that swung gently from Mat’s rearview mirror.
The hair on her neck stood on end. She felt a familiar chilling dread, a feeling that something was deeply wrong, and it all came flying back to her: the seatbelt catching, the crunch, the squeal, her mother’s voice, the searing white light.
She knew it then, the way she knew the ratio of a golden rectangle.
It had been him.
45
She kept her voice calm. “I’m fine,” she said as they inched beyond the traffic light. “Just nervous about the party.”
The traffic crawled forward. Ava craned her neck to see what was going on but couldn’t make anything out. They were approaching the bottleneck, but not quickly enough. She kept very still. Her mouth was dry.
Mat pulled a mint out of the center console and popped it in his mouth, then offered her one.
“No thank you,” Ava said, staring straight ahead. All the blood in her body had traveled to her face.
“Wanna just go home? I’m sure they’d get over it. We could stream a movie, make it a date night. We could watch 7,000 again, for old time’s sake! Though I don’t know how we’re gonna get through this traffic.” He opened his window and popped his head out.
“No,” Ava said. She struggled to keep her voice steady. She could feel her pulse against her throat. “I told Spirit I’d come to the party, so I will.”
“You’re the boss,” Mat said.
They sat in a horrible silence. The back of Ava’s neck prickled. Car horns competed against the occasional siren. She felt as though each of her thoughts were accessible to him. The beam of light. The curtain of hair that she could now match to the photo of him from the newspaper. Her stomach twisted into a new knot. “I’ll walk,” she said.
“What’s the big rush?” Mat said, looking at his watch. “You don’t have to be right on time. It’s just a party.”
“But the party is for the Very Nice Box,” Ava said. Her voice sounded far away. She felt for the door handle at the same time that Mat spun the steering wheel, maneuvering around another car. The other driver lay on her horn and screamed at him through her closed window.
“All the more reason to be fashionably late,” Mat said, giving the woman the finger. He hit the power lock several times. Thuck, thuck, thuck. “It’s actually a more confident move to show up to your own functions a little late. Take it from me.”
Ava focused on keeping her breath steady. But the focus only made her more aware of her panic. Her throat felt full, as though the breathing tube had slid back down her esophagus. The AC blasted. She was both too cold and too hot. The puzzle of her relationship with Mat Putnam had begun assembling itself in her mind. She thought of the disco ball. For me it symbolizes my own personal change and growth, he had said. Right there, hiding in plain sight. A feeling of paralysis prevented her from reaching for her phone. She couldn’t risk getting caught texting her SHRNK. She brought her window down. She pictured an angle grinder cutting a clean line. She imagined the feel of a freshly sanded surface. She pictured a compass tracing a circle. She was desperate to leave the car.
“AC’s on, Lamby,” Mat said.
“Yes,” Ava agreed. “Sorry.” She brought the window up.
“Looks like there’s some sort of commotion near the Vision Tower.” He slammed on his horn for no clear reason. “Maybe there was an accident. I guess everyone’s racing to celebrate you.”
“I’ll just get out here,” Ava said, smiling at him. “If you don’t mind.”
“Real nice, leaving me alone to deal with this,” Mat said, gesturing at the traffic jam. He was smiling, but Ava felt the edge of a threat. He ran a hand through his hair. “Everyone else is going to be late too, you know. We’re not the only ones stuck here.” He leaned across the center console and kissed her cheek. “You okay, Lamby?” The coolness from his kiss lingered. She was desperate to wipe it away.
“I just—I’m nervous since it’s my design,” she said. “And you know me, I hate being late. Even to things that don’t matter.”
“It’s one of the many things I love about you,” Mat said, his tone softening. The honking had crescendoed, making its way into the car, into Ava’s body, as though the alarms were originating within her. The sweat on the back of her neck chilled her. She checked her Precise Wristwatch.
“I’ll get a spot in the lot,” Mat said. “Text me when you’re ready to leave?”
“Okay,” Ava managed, and she forced herself to kiss him on his cheek before pushing the door open.
She navigated through cars, keeping her sight on the Simple Tower. She just had to get there. She just had to get inside, and then she would make a plan. Horns blared. She kept her eyes on the pavement in front of her. The Thirty-Minute Machine intro music cycled nonsensically through her head at double speed. She counted every step until she pushed her way inside, through Security, to the elevator bank, whose screens displayed an ad for the Very Nice Box before transitioning to Ava’s STÄDA employee photo. Congratulations to Senior Engineer Ava Simon! She joined a crowd of Customer Bliss associates and their dates waiting for an elevator. She wished she had a h
ood and sunglasses.
“Hey, that’s her!” someone said, pointing between the screen and Ava.
She quickly stepped into the elevator, where she endured raucous congratulations, pats on the back, and approving nods from her colleagues. “Hell of a design,” Owen Lloyd was shouting. “And hell of a campaign, if I do say so myself.” He wore this year’s Solstice shirt: On the front, an enormous trophy emerged from the Very Nice Box. The back simply read VERY NICE. The Spirit team had ordered the shirts in red, blue, yellow, and green. Ava smiled weakly at Owen, and as soon as the doors opened, she pushed her way through clusters of people to the safest place she could think of: the printer room.
It was dim and cool in there, and smelled like ink. She sat in a dusty Encouraging Desk Chair and put her face in her palms. The sound of her mother’s voice looped in her head. Ira. She replayed the accident over again, this time with a clear, horrific resolution on the other driver, the mess of hair. Of course it was Mat’s; she should have known it the moment she saw the newspaper clipping. Her eyes welled with fury.
She checked her Precise Wristwatch. The party had started in earnest. From where she sat in the printer room, she could see helium balloons shaped like the Very Nice Box, and an enormous piñata, which—if last year’s party was any indication—would be full of miniature Very Nice Box–shaped candies. Her heartbeat was everywhere; she looked up and the ceiling pulsed.
What had Jaime seen? She pulled out her phone and searched her trash folder, scrolling until she found the email: CONFIRMED: BOTH MAT AND OWEN LLOYD ARE DANGEROUS. She opened the attachment: a cell-phone video of the Simple Tower parking lot featuring Mat and Owen. The video was shaky and taken at a distance. It zoomed onto Owen, who was keying a row of cars while Mat looked on.
The Very Nice Box Page 27