Caitlin lifted her lip like she smelled something suspicious. “It’s weird. Most venture capital firms specialize in a sector, not a theme. So, you’d expect a particular venture capital company to buy a bunch of banks, but not a bank, a marketing company specializing in banks, and a piggy bank manufacturer.”
“Right,” Bobert said. Bobert specialized in calibrating the lab machines. He was always tinkering. “It’s not even vertical integration like a meat packing plant, a pet food manufacturer, and a website that sells pet food. It just seems like random golf businesses that don’t fit together.”
Nicole nodded. “Something is fishy with these guys. Okay,withouta show of hands, how many people in the lab are willing to sign cards? Selma?”
Selma tapped printed-out spreadsheets, squaring them. “Twelve are willing to sign cards, first round.”
Two of Nicole’s lab bunnies didn’t want to get involved. Interesting. Not that she would have any work-opinion about it. “Okay. That’s a good start. Caitlin, did you talk to Meagan and Morgan?”
She nodded. “Meagan and Morgan and the two young guys are in. The two old guys won’t even hear of it. They muttered something about driving prices up, which is exactly our business model, but okay.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I suppose we had to approach them. We wouldn’t want them to feel left out. Arvind, accounting and business operations?”
Arvind’s small smile looked very pleased with himself. “Everybody’s in, every last one of them.”
“Perfect. Good job, Arvind.” Nicole turned to the guy at the end of the table. “Matthew? How about legal?”
Matthew rolled his eyes so hard he might have sprained his eyeballs. “The lawyers and paralegal don’t like it and are quibbling that there has to be a loophole somewhere, and theywant to wait. They think we should see what Last Chance’s next move is.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “I checked with my dad. There isn’t a loophole anywhere. It’s sewn up tight. McIverson? How about the stragglers?”
McIverson preferred to go by their surname for a reason no one knew. “Afifa, Molly, Maia, Elliott, Fortunato, and Rainbow-Supreme are all in.”
“Okay, that’s over fifty percent of the workers here, even without the legal department. We only needed thirty percent. I’ll arrange for those signature cards to be printed and file the petition,” Nicole said.
She stood and braced her arms on the table and glowered as well as she could glower at her friends. “This Last Chance, Inc. venture capital company may own Sidewinder Golf, but that doesn’t mean they can push us around.”
19
That Slow Elevator
KINGSTON MOORE
Kingston stood at the receptionist’s desk Friday morning, leaning on the high top and chatting with the lady back there while he waited for Nicole.
Heitched.
That was the only way he could think of to describe it. Not an itch in a particular region, certainly not his nether regions, but his whole bodyitchedbecause Nicole was still upstairs, somewhere in her lab with other people, othermen,and he was down here on the ground floor talking to this receptionist instead of to her.
Finally, a slam of a fire door from the hallway behind the reception area, and Nicole emerged from the back areas of the building and stood beside him. She said, “You don’t have a sales meeting or anything today, do you? That was Wednesday.”
“You showed me the new Mojave set the other night,” Kingston said. “I just wanted to look at the Mojave set again.”
“The Mojave set. Do you want to look at the Mojave set again?”
“Yes, the Mojave set.”
“Okay, let’s look at the golf clubs, the Mojave set.”
He followed her past a pot full of cacti to the elevator with the utmost decorum.
Nicole said, “You could’ve just told her you’d come back for your credit card from yesterday.”
Kingston flinched. “I didn’t even think about the credit card.”
He waited until the doors slid away and followed her in as if golf clubs were the only thing on his mind.
In the elevator, the itch turned into a jitter, turned into a compulsion.
