He smiles softly, relaxing on the sofa. “No, I don’t, but if we won TechRumble, I think that should cover it.”
I wipe my face with a hand. “We’re not going to win. We’re lucky we made it to Round One.”
“Jess, you need to pull yourself out of this headspace.” He holds my shoulders, turning me to face him. “I’ve just spent the whole evening with these business guys; they are forward thinkers and were impressed by everything I had to say onstage... including Dominic Odericco.” He takes a nonchalant swig of his sparkling water, the bubbles chasing up the side of the bottle.
I pause in place, alongside my racing heartbeat. “You... spoke to Dominic Odericco?”
He smirks. “Had a drink with him. He’s... nice, under that ‘I’m a big important grumpy man’ persona.” He scratches the back of his neck, a little twinkle in his eye. “Even hotter up close too.”
I grab his arms. “What did he say?” I sniff the tears back up my nostrils.
He squints and tilts his chin down to me like he’s telling me a secret. “We didn’t talk much about Wyst. I was playing it cool, ya know? Waiting for him to come to me.” I instantly deflate; he missed the perfect opportunity. Until he adds, “But luckily... he did.”
“Speeeeeeence!” I rub my face. “Just please put me out of my misery already.” My chest feels like a balloon filling with confetti, ready to burst and cover everything in sight. Housekeeping will still be finding remnants of this feeling a year later.
He laughs, sitting back on the sofa. “Okay, okay. He told mehow much he respects the idea and thinks it’s really innovative. He said he couldn’t believe the platform you’ve built with just a team of four. Well, the platformI’vebuilt.” He holds a hand to his chest and shoots me a beaming smile. I throw a beaded cushion in his face.
He sees right through me; it must be that annoying twin telepathy thing. “Look, it’s a good idea, a great idea in fact. But how are you going to achieve greatness with no money to get it off the ground? Gotta fake it till you make it, baby!”
The gurgling feeling in my stomach subsides. We’ll find out tomorrow whether we made it or not. I guess there’s nothing left to do but relax.
I look around at his giant hotel room. “Can I stay here for a while longer? Order room service?”
He gives me a soft look and squeezes my hand. “As long as you’re paying.”
We sink into the sofa, watching an Italian-dubbed version ofShe’s the Man. We know most of the lines anyway. These moments remind me of when we were old enough to stay home alone when Mum and Dad went out. We made popcorn, wore out our favorite DVDs, and ate our weight in sweets we’d bought at the corner shop with our secret stash of coins. We bought ice cream and drank the melted remains like warm milkshakes so we could wash the packaging and hide it in our schoolbags to discard in the cafeteria bins. Once, Spencer had to distract our parents while I hid the remains of our sneaky feasts under our beds. Of course, we both forgot they were there until a sour, tangy smell began emanating from the room. Mum found out, and we had to eat extra vegetables with every meal for a week. She replaced the sweet treats inour lunches with raisins, throwing any playground street cred out the window.
I wake several hours later on the sofa, with a cashmere blanket laid over me, being lightly shaken by Spencer. “Jessie, wake up.” I open my eyes to see the morning light peeking through the curtains.
“What?” I ask, my voice groggy. “Shit, is it time to check out?”
“No, it’s time to fucking celebrate!” He holds his bright phone screen to my face. I wince, adjusting to the light as I read the black-and-white text:
Dear Mr. Cole,
Thank you for attending the Odericco Investments TechRumble Round One.
We are pleased to inform you that Wyst has been selected to enter TechRumble Round Two. Please accept our congratulations. Details are attached.
Odericco Investments
Opening my phone, I see the forwarded email and click on the attachment.
Odericco Investments invites you to take part in the start-up panel at TechRumble Round Two in partnership with Wyatt Regency Paris.
“Paris!” Spencer shouts, throwing himself onto his bed. My neck cricks as I pull my body from the sofa.
“We got through,” I say to no one.
“And we’re going to Paris!” Spencer squeals.
Round Two.For a magical moment, I let my brain relax. You did it. You didn’t fail.
Then the timeline hits; we have to be in Paris in three weeks. The Wyst beta test launches in a month’s time. I’ll have to prepare for both, coaching Spencer on the product while making the product as flawless as possible. Maybe we could premiere itatTechRumble? Is that too ambitious?
“There’s so much to do for it.” I pull my laptop out and immediately start typing up a new timeline.
“I think in Paris I’m going to wear a turtleneck instead of a shirt.” He looks at himself in the floor-length mirror. “It’s more chic.”
