Nicole clinked her spoon as she stirred her coffee again. “It sounded serious.”
Kingston turned to the coffeemaker. “Yeah, it was serious.”
“It didn’t sound like you were talking about golf club sales.”
“It was about some finance deal.”
“You said last night that you had been in finance but weren’t anymore.”
“Once you’re in tight with some of those guys, they don’t let you go,” he said. “They’re gregarious. Everything has to be discussed in a meeting, even when it shouldn’t be.”
“You said you’re from Connecticut, right?” she asked him.
Kingston freshened up his coffee and stirred more sugar in. “I’m from Pennsylvania.”
“But you’re living in Connecticut.”
He ran his hand through his dark hair. “Western Connecticut. Practically New York.”
“Is your finance friend in Connecticut?”
Kingston stared at his coffee. “Yeah.”
His tone hadn’t sounded like he was talking to a friend. He sounded sort of like when he’d been talking business with the other people on the sales team, but even more serious.
Nicole was an engineer, so she was good at math. Tricky math problems were just puzzles that, once you saw the connections, were easy to line up and figure out.
She was good at making those connections.
And she saw the path linking Kingston to Last Chance, Inc., the Connecticut-based venture capital firm strangling Sidewinder and endangering her friends’ jobs.
Asking Kingston about his connection to Last Chance would be like pricking the iridescent soap bubble around the previous night and that morning, allowing the grime into this private space they’d created.
She—might—never see him again, or at least never see him in the same light.
Working at Sidewinder these last few years and forming genuine friendships there had been her whole life. They were her friends. They trusted her.
The slithering around their feet might be fog, or it might be a snake.
Nicole said, “You know, the venture capital company that bought Sidewinder is based in Connecticut.”
This time, Kingston shrugged. “They’re incorporated in Vermont and have an office in Connecticut.”
“Connecticut’s a small state.”
He nodded. “Compared to California.”
“Do you know the people at Last Chance?” she asked him.
Kingston finished taking a long sip of his coffee and lowered the mug. “I know guys who work for them. That’s how I got this job. Connections.”
Notjustconnections.Too manyconnections.
Kingston living in Connecticut and having that conversation with a finance guy in Connecticut about a deal, a bad deal, were just too many coincidences. “Last Chance got you the job at Sidewinder.”
His voice was quieter. “Yes.”
“And that’s how you had Joe Flanagan on your contacts list, because our new owners gave you Joe’s number.”
