Nicole stared Gia straight into her mahogany brown eyes. “Kingston Moore is an industrial spy. I don’t know if he’s directlyworking for one of our competitors like Titleist or planning to sell our prototypes and future designs to the highest bidder.”
Gia leaned back with her hands against the desk and tilted her head sideways. “You must be joking.”
Nicole had thought she’d sounded crazy, too. “Look, there was this Ryde driver who was telling me about how Otto is stealing their customers by hacking their website, and it got me to thinking.”
“Look, honey, I’m sure your designs are phenomenal, but other companies aren’t trying to steal them.”
“I don’t know why he’s trying to do it, but something very fishy is happening with that guy.”
“I’ll agree, but he’s not working for someone else.”
“What do you mean?” Nicole asked her.
“Before Kingston Moore came on the scene, I was the absolute queen of sales because I am phenomenal at it,” Gia said with a deadpan expression. “Our only limitation for how much money this company can make is its manufacturing. If you got me ten times as much product, I could move that volume.”
Oops, Nicole had started a rant. Everyone knew not to start one of Gia’s rants.
“I hire the salespeople. I fire the salespeople. I give the bonuses. I dock pay. I decide the trade show schedule. I decide which country clubs we send reps to for personalized events.”
Yep, a rant. Nicole listened and nodded.
“I am a fuckingmonsterin this industry. I am alegend.The day I say I want a change of scenery will be the day twenty other luxury brand golf club manufacturers will be down that front door and beg on their knees to hire me.”
Nicole sidled into one of the chairs in front of Gia’s desk because she didn’t want to be on her feet for however long this would last.
“And yet, one day I get an email—a fucking email—from Joe Flanagan that tells me this Kingston Moore guy will be showing up for work tomorrow and he’s on my team, and then the company gets sold to some rich VC assholes who also tell me that Kingston Moore will be reporting to me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Whatthe hellis going on with this company?What is the world coming to?”
Nicole nodded and waited, but it seemed like Gia had run out of steam.
That was quick. Gia must have had a big weekend.
Nicole asked, “But he is just a sales guy, right?”
“Yeah, his title is rookie sales representative, he’s paid like a rookie sales representative, and he’s going to trade shows to work the booth like a rookie sales representative, starting next month. It’s like he’s got someone protecting him. You know how important connections are in this business.”
“Okay, but there’s still something weird going on with that guy.”
Gia squinted at Nicole.” Did you sleep with him?”
“What!Why?Why would you ask me that?”
“Because in that sales meeting on Wednesday, you guys were eye-fucking each other like dogs in heat. Good for you. You keep nailing that beast. It’s good for the circulation.”
No, Nicole wouldn’t.
30
First Wave
NICOLE LAMB
Nicole was in the lab, watching a fabricator carve a hunk of folded steel into part of the head of a golf club.
Sparks sprayed as the robot, in a glass box, applied its needle and cut away all the metallic shreds that were not specified by the computer-drafted design.
Her Tyvek suit, protecting her clothes and skin, itched a little on her bare arms underneath. Late April was short-sleeve season in Southern California.
She could have worked in her office while the program ran, but when she was alone, her eyes tended to get wet as her mind wandered back to that lost weekend.
