The Blind Date
Page 28
Elisa’s chin rests on the back of one hand as she listens to me, her eyes ticking from me to the computer screen on her desk. I suspect she’s looking at either the spreadsheets of data or the actual BlindDate app. She hums thoughtfully.
“Is there something specific you want to know?” I ask, feeling like I’m missing something even though I answered her question efficiently.
“What have you learned during your time at Life Corp?” Elisa asks directly, her eyes suddenly locked on me, pinning me in place.
I swear my stomach drops through my ass, ruining her fancy chair.
Why does it sound as though this has become a dismissal interview moments before I’m escorted off the property? Are the numbers not what she’d hoped either? They’re not bad by any stretch, but ‘good enough’ never truly is enough. Not for me, and not for Elisa. Is that why River isn’t here? If it’s a numbers game, that rests solidly on my shoulders. We’ve always said River’s the idea man and I’m the implementation guy. I guess that’s coming back to haunt me.
I swallow thickly, thinking quickly about what I want to say. If this is going to be my last chance to work with Lady Elisa, I’m going to be honest and tell her everything.
“You’re a mentor to me. In the years that I’ve been at Life Corp, I’ve learned by watching how you do things—your driving force and how it determines your process, analysis, and action. More than once, I’ve overcome a problem or an obstacle simply by applying something I learned from you. Our conversations are nuggets of wisdom that I use every day to make myself a better executive for Life Corp.
“More recently, I’ve learned that it’s not about me and my goal to sit where you are. Or at least, not only about that,” I tell her quietly.
I’m not ashamed of the workaholic habits I’ve cultivated because they’ve gotten me to where I am and my family to where they are. But there’s more to life than I ever considered, and that’s important too, shaping how I work now and how I see myself working in the future.
“It’s about the people around me, about the workers who fill the desks on every floor. It’s about everyone from Steve the security guard to Gina and Tina. Because we all have worth, add value, and can offer important insights. We work together as a team to provide the best experience for our end-users, no matter the app.”
Elisa nods, a faint look of surprise on her face, though her brows don’t lift more than a centimeter. “Can I ask you a personal question, Noah?”
More personal than that? I’m pouring my heart out here!
I nod silently, giving the expected permission.
Elisa leans forward, interlacing her fingers on her desk to stare down her nose at me. “It sounds like that’s a new revelation for you . . . the people around you being important. Would you say that’s true?”
My reputation as a grumpy asshole has never been thrown in my face quite so succinctly.
“Unfortunately, yes. I have tended to keep a select few close—my family, mostly—and leave everyone else on the outside, but I’m growing to trust more.” My brow furrows as the thoughts come to me. “Or more like, I’m starting to see that everyone has important things going on that matter to them too. Growing up, I didn’t have the luxury of thinking of other people that way. It was all I could do to worry about my mom and sister, but now . . . we’re in a better place, I’m in a better place, and it’s time for me to take off those blinders. Does that make sense?”
As I speak, a memory floats through my mind . . .
It’s my birthday . . . one after Dad left but before Mom went back to school.
“Happy birthday, Noah,” Mom says, handing me a box. Arielle is playing at a friend’s house, and it’s just the two of us in our tiny kitchen for now. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here this morning when you got up so I could tell you then, but I had an early shift.”
“I understand, Mom,” I reply, taking the newspaper-wrapped box and looking down at it. It’s been eight months since Dad left, and while he sends a few bucks here and there, it’s never enough and things are rough. Mom’s been working extra shifts trying to cover the gaps while not letting the strain show as she tries to buy food, clothes, water, electricity, and all that.
Maybe Arielle doesn’t notice. But I do.
I’ve been trying to help where I can, being stingy with the peanut butter and jelly when I make lunch to make the jars last longer and skipping the milk in the store-brand macaroni and cheese that we have for dinner.
I take care of Arielle on Saturdays, watching cartoons quietly in the morning and going to the park in the afternoons so Mom can sleep.
And I haven’t told Mom that my tennis shoes are too small and my big toes are pressing against the end . . . again. I keep growing, sizing out of my clothes before they wear out. Unlike Mom’s jeans, which are getting white at the knees because she wears them to work and at home.
And now . . . I can feel the weight of the box, the heavy thump of what’s inside. She noticed. She knew anyway, even though I tried to hide it.
“Open it,” Mom says excitedly. She’s bouncing around with her hands fisted below her chin like a kid on Christmas who can’t wait to see what Santa brought. She’s happier about the gift than I am. Especially since my stomach is filled with stones.
I muster a smile and tear through the newspaper to find the shoe box I expected it to be. Opening the lid, I see a nice pair of black and white Nike sneakers. They’re not Jordans like the kids at school have, but I know these must’ve cost Mom her entire paycheck.
“Do you like them?” Mom squeals. “Try them on.”
I want to. Desperately.
But looking at the exhaustion at the corners of my mother’s eyes, I know that some prices are too high to pay.
“Mom, if you don’t mind, I had a different birthday wish,” I tell her, handing the box back. “Uhm, if the store would let you take those back, I saw a pair at Walmart with red laces that I love. Could we get those instead?”
Mom blinks, her smile falling, and I can see emotions in her eyes. Anger at her situation that she’s in, shame that she’s even considering my offer, and sadness that she’s failed at hiding her struggles from her son.
A little bit of my childhood dies in that instant, but at the same time, something else grows when I see something else in her eyes.
Pride in the man I’m becoming.
I haven’t been that little boy in a very long time. After that, Mom went to school, got a certificate, and we did better. I grew up, went to college, and became successful. But I never moved beyond the fear.
What if that became my life again?
What am I willing to do to prevent that?
How do I protect Mom and Arielle?
“I think that’s very mature of you, Noah. It’s important that we recognize where we’ve come from and how it shapes us but also allow current experiences and conditions to form us into something new. I’ve seen that happening with you recently, which excites me. It shows that you’re aware of your own limitations but willing to bust through them if given the opportunity to be molded into something better.”
Elisa sits back in her chair, and I feel compelled to fill the moment of silence.
“Thank you,” I tell her, truly appreciating the compliment and that she’s noticed the changes in me too. Though I guess I should still worry that maybe I’ve been walking through life with everyone thinking I’m a complete monster, arrogant and narcissistic and unaware of how I was perceived.
“Opportunities are strange things, presenting themselves when you least expect them but requiring you to take advantage of them quickly.”
Elisa is leading me somewhere, but I’m the only one of us blind, with no map or any hint of the destination. The only thing I’m sure of right now is that whatever this is, it doesn’t seem to be a meeting to blindside me with being fired over BlindDate stats. But I can feel the walls of the trap closing in, each of these questions slowly backing me into a corner I didn’t see.
“I hear you’re in love.”
I blink, surprised. This has been one emotional whiplash of a meeting, that’s for damn sure. “How’d you hear about that?”
I understand that Riley and I went public on her page yesterday, but it’s been less than twenty-four hours, and Elisa Montgomery is more the type to do a morning business page check than a social media check.
“I have my ways,” Lady Elisa tells me slyly. “Specifically, an executive assistant who thinks Riley Sunshine is the hottest new thing. An opinion shared by my daughter. I took a look. She seems to have a good following in a niche market.”
From a businesswoman like Elisa, that’s high praise.
“And you met her through BlindDate,” Lady Elisa continues. My jaw drops, and she winks. “As I said, I have my ways.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve got superpowers,” I say uncomfortably.
Talking to my family about Riley is one thing, talking to my boss quite another. And no one outside our circle knows how we met. Though I wouldn’t put it past Elisa to be running her own stats on the app. I’d like to get my hands on those and see what she looks for compared to what I look at. Though figuring out the naming constructs seems to be a bit of an overreach, but there’s no other way she’d know I’m Mark and Riley is Rachel.
Unless River?
No, he wouldn’t. I know that much. I think.
She laughs. “I wish. However, I find the most useful superpower to be courage. Making use of those opportunities I mentioned. Like your situation.”
“Situation?” I parrot.
“What an app like BlindDate needs is a happy ending. Members, prospective and existing, need to know that BlindDate works. And your relationship with Riley is a golden example of that. Two people taking a chance on love, using the latest technology and AI to find their perfect match, a meet-cute, and then . . . voila, love and a happily ever after. It’s utterly genius.”
Elisa is excited, creative energy pouring over her red lips as she makes Riley and me sound like the latest Hallmark movie.
“It doesn’t hurt that she’s a social media darling and you’re an executive. I think we could even spin the fact that BlindDate is your creation to show the good faith you put in your own product.”
“Mine and River’s.” I correct the last thing she said because my brain is still digesting everything else, spinning around like a blender that can’t break up ice into manageable pieces, making a harsh whirring sound and threatening to burn out.
Elisa waves her hand like that’s a minor detail. “The rest, Noah. What do you think about the rest?”
My brain still hasn’t figured out the reset button, but my gut is screaming at me. If ever there were a time to listen to it, it’s now. “I’m sorry, but . . . no,” I tell her, shocked at my own balls. “Neither Riley nor I are looking for publicity with this. In fact, that’s why we hid our identities at first. And now that we’re together, I want things to be pure.”
Elisa’s lips press together as though she expected me to jump at this idea, no matter the fact that it’s absolutely crazy. “Noah, perhaps you misunderstood. I’m not asking you and Riley to be anything other than yourselves. I’m not asking you to fake anything or lie to sell the app. I want you to be as genuine and authentic as you can be. That’s what makes this so great.”
“I get that. But this is mixing our business and personal lives in a major way. A very public one.”
“I’d argue that posting yourself on Riley Sunshine’s feed is pretty public,” Elisa says flatly. “Especially with the lead-up photos building interest and excitement. Riley seems to know and use subliminal marketing tactics well. I’m only looking to expand that with upfront, honest endorsement.” She pauses dramatically, letting her words sink in. “Let the world benefit from your story and renew that hope that there’s someone out there for everyone and that maybe, just maybe, they can find that special someone on BlindDate. I would think that’s quite in line with Riley Sunshine’s message.”
The way she says it makes it seem not so crazy. Elisa is so persuasive and intense. And not asking us to lie or fake anything. Maybe it is an opportunity to show BlindDate’s possibilities?
“And we’d pay Riley, of course. A sponsorship like this could be very lucrative for her too. I don’t know what her current sponsorship endorsement fees are, but I guarantee we’ll pay considerably more.”
Elisa sits back in her chair and smiles. “As I see it, it’s a win all the way around. We can highlight the success of BlindDate, something you’ve worked on for a long time. Riley gets an assured sponsorship that will increase her visibility and profitability. And best of all, it’s authentic, genuine love that can’t be manufactured, which is why everyone will go nuts to support you two and celebrate what you’ve found. My understanding is that Riley likes to ‘spread sunshine’, as she says? Well, I’m seeing a total solar eclipse.”
Wait, isn’t that when the sun is blocked?
Focus on the important things, Noah. And newsflash, it’s not science right now. It’s business. And Riley.
I’m not sure about everything Elisa has said. And most importantly, this isn’t a choice I can make alone. Riley and I need to talk about this . . . a lot.
And I need to gather my wits so that I can have a conversation with Elisa without sounding like a stumbling, stuttering moron.
I take a deep breath and nod. “I need to talk with Riley about this. I’ve got twenty-five friends online. Riley’s the one with over a half-million followers. But . . . I’ll talk to her.”
“Thank you,” Lady Elisa says, obviously thinking she’s got this in the bag. “Your story, Riley’s story . . . it touches me. And I would love for the world to have the chance at that too. We all deserve love.”
Elisa puts her hand over her heart, her smile sweet and gentle. I swear I feel the claws of the trap she’s set slam shut around me.
She’s good. Really good. And I’m in over my head with her, but I won’t be smooth-talked into doing something that won’t work for Riley and me.
But maybe it could work? We did find our happily ever after with BlindDate. Why can’t others too? Especially if it helps Riley too.
Chapter 23
Riley
“Rowf!” Raffy barks from beneath my feet.
I click Save on the draft I’m working on, a post about a new pair of earrings made from entirely recycled e-waste. You’d never be able to tell by looking at them, but the hoops used to be part of a smartphone. The core of the hoop is aluminum that’s been coated in gold, with twin baubles that look like polished jade but are actually ground up circuit board plastic that’s been recast and then shaped by hand.
The earrings aren’t from a sponsor company but rather an opportunity to support a good cause. Not everyone can get out and volunteer, though I definitely highlight that on my page, but we can all have an impact on bettering the world. Like donating e-waste to a small company who reuses it creatively, supporting them with our purchase power, and encouraging the causes we believe in like recycling.
I’ve got the bulk of the post done, including some statistics and important information, but I want to find or write the perfect quote to use as the tagline to really inspire my Sunshiners.
“I know, Raffy. I’m ready too, but we’re waiting on—” I start before there’s a knock at the door. “Never mind, there’s Noah now. You ready to walk?”
At the familiar word, Raffy goes nuts, running around and barking. I try to get him to calm down while opening the door for Noah. “Hey, come on in. Let me get Raffy’s leash on or he’ll probably make a run for it.”
We don’t have any specific plans tonight, having talked about a nice, long walk and dinner but not much else. I like that, though. It’s a blend of Noah’s need to have the whole evening mapped out and my confidence that something spontaneous will happen and it’ll be great.
Noah comes in, closing the door behind himself and telling Raffy, “You’d better behave, man. You have a cushy gig here . . . good food, daily walks, allowed to get on the couch, and the prettiest mama ever.”
“Aw, you’re so sweet,” I say, standing to greet Noah now that I’ve got Raffy’s leash hooked to his collar. I meet Noah’s lips with mine, soft and tender, but suddenly, I fall into him. “Ahh!”
He stumbles too but manages to stay steady on his feet. Looking down, I see that Raffy has run a full circle around us in his excitement, wrapping us in the leash and tying us together.
“Raffy, are you ever going to stop being a fluffy cockblocker?”
“Technically, he was tying us together this time,” I say with a flirty twist of my lips.
He might be grumpy about Raffy’s interruption, but Noah pats Raffy on the head as he safely untangles our feet. Raffy tries to jump into Noah’s arms, but there’s no way he could get that high, even with a running leap from the couch.
“Rowf!”
“I’m gonna hold you to that promise later,” Noah promises.
I pull on running shoes, noting that Noah must’ve gone home before coming over because he’s in gray sweats, cut off at the knees, a white T-shirt, and running shoes. I haven’t seen him in full casual gear too often, but he does seem to have a propensity for gray sweats since I mentioned them. Sweet, sexy man.
We get outside, and Raffy immediately beelines for his tree. While Noah and I both turn our backs to give him a bit of privacy, Noah asks, “How was your day?”
“Amazing, actually. The reveal post is getting tons of likes and comments, mostly positive, which I’m sure is because of the ‘male model’ I’m with.” I tease him, and he gives me a Zoolander Blue Steel model look, pursing his lips and eyeing me vacantly. I laugh and push at him, but he doesn’t budge.