“Nope,” I say, the same way.
Twelve hours later, I’m seated at a round table at some fancy as fuck place in Midtown. Between Leo and Mia. Directly across from Molly and Joe, like they’re conducting a grueling interview. Mia’s neck has pounds of makeup on it. If you look close enough, you can see the slight discoloration, a shade lighter than her skin tone. And she’s wearing the same exact sexy-as-fuck outfit that started this whole mess, with the soft crop top and no bra and silk pants. I know what kind of panties she has to wear with those pants. And it’s totally fine.
I grip my own knee so I don’t do something ridiculous like hold hers. She steps on my foot under the white tablecloth. My leg is bouncing. We simultaneously reach towards our wine and take huge swigs, like we’re chugging beer flavored water out of a pitcher in college, and not twenty-five dollar glasses of Pouilly-Fumé.
“What meetings do you have in town, Dad?” Leo asks, oblivious.
“Eh, a few non-important things here and there,” Joe says nonchalantly, with an undercurrent of bloated ego thrown in there for good measure, implying that he and his meetings are actually very important, thank you very much. Did I always dislike Joe, or is this a new development that’s come with Mia? I’m starting to question why our dads are best friends, and I think it probably has to do with the self-importance that comes with finance careers. “Board meetings, due diligence meetings, deal sourcing, strategy,” he throws in, waving a hand, as if we should all know what the hell he’s talking about.
“Why’d you need to come to the city to do it?” Mia asks. “Isn’t video conferencing a thing now? Wouldn’t that save thousands on hotel and business class flights?”
This sees like a reasonable question to me, but Joe and Molly look at Mia as if she’s insane.
“It’s a venture capitalist firm, dear,” Molly tells Mia slowly, in the way one would tell a toddler that they cannot eat glue. “They aren’t pinching pennies.”The fuck?
Mia looks at the table, and before I can say anything, Molly turns to Leo.
“How’s the project you’re leading, Leo?”
“It’s actually going okay. I was having some logistical issues with my team, but it’s a little better now,” Leo says, smiling over at me.
“What sort of logistical issues?”
“Scheduling, mostly. Meeting deadlines. Planning. Clearly delineated requirements. The team wasn’t doing their job.”
“But isn’t that your job, Leo? Isn’t that what leading a team means?” asks Mia, at the same time, parroting my comment from a few weeks ago.
“No way, Mia. Sounds like something an EA should be handling,” snorts Joe.
Leo ignores this. “Elias reminded me it was part of my job, actually. I helped them get back on track.”
“Well, thank you for that, Elias,” Molly says.
Mia rolls her eyes. This time, I sneak my hand under the white tablecloth and squeeze her knee. She rests her hand on top of mine, just for a second, interlocking her slender fingers with mine and squeezing. We separate.
“Don’t forget that leading a team means delegating tasks appropriately,” Joe cuts in. “And getting rid of the ones that don’t step up to the plate.”
I see Mia take a breath to say something, but she changes her mind at the last second.
“And how about you, Elias? How’s your little side gig going?” Molly asks me, entirely forgetting about both Mia and our shared, full-time teaching jobs.
“It’s going okay,” I tell her, wincing at theside gigcomment but full on cringing at her dismissal. I have a little more confidence, though, after my conversation with Mia, so I barrel on. “I have a lot of clients now. I’m busy almost every day of the week. Taking in a lot of extra cash. I’m training this guy from the Brooklyn Nets, too. He said some of his teammates might be interested in joining on their off days.”
All the Roberts look at me, clearly very impressed and borderline shocked, which is both gratifying and really fucking irritating, as if they didn’t expect this from me. I glance over at Mia, who gets it, obviously. She gives me a sympathetic look.
“I didn’t know that, man,” Leo admits.
“Look at you, small business owner,” Joe booms, and it hits different hearing it from him. “Putting in those extra hours. You’ve always been a hard worker,” he says, and to me it meansyou’ve never been very intelligent, but you certainly tried hard.But this isn’t about me anymore.
“Actually,” I say, turning to Mia. “Meems has been helping me out, too. For the gym, and at school.”
“Teaching Elias his letters, then, Mia?” Joe asks, laughing.
We both frown.
I get pissed.
“Mia is probably actually the most competent person sitting at this table,” I fire back to everyone and no one in particular. To Mia, definitely, though. “You don’t understand how highly regarded Mia is at work. By our coworkers. Her teammates. Our bosses. She’s one of the best teachers in our school. Our supervisor picked her to go to a conference. And Mia’s been helping me teach.”
