“You know, I don’t even like apps,” Zelda said matter-of-factly, and completely off-topic.
“That’s interesting. So then why do you—”
“I’ve been asking myself the same thing. Like, Zelda, what are you doing? Hello!” She started laughing. “It’s like one day, I’m making my clothes and doing my thing . . . and now I’m going to North Carolina to talk to investors. Like any of them need an extra vacation.” She took a sip of her coffee, which was no doubt cold by now. “Why do I need to keep begging people for money? It’s so exhausting. You know, I haven’t designed anything in over four years? When I first assumed the role of CEO, I was still sketching here and there, but now . . . nothing but meetings. Oh! Look at us! We found a way tostreamline,to createsynergy. I don’t think anyone knows what that word means, by the way.”
Cierra had done her best attempt at active listening, but she felt like she was watching something that wasn’t for her eyes. It was also difficult to track any kind of logic.
“Don’t you like being CEO? I guess I’m just a little surprised. I mean, you seem really passionate about it.”
“I do like it. Did like it. I don’t know. Some days I see myself posted somewhere and think, damn, you really did it. You know? But then I have mornings like this, where all I want is to be back in my studio apartment in Seattle. No meetings or investors or responsibilities. Just me, Elliot, and my fabrics.”
Cierra sat quietly, waiting to see if Zelda would go on before saying anything else.
“So, what keeps you going, then?” she asked finally. After all, it’s not like anyone just fell into running a start-up valued at millions of dollars.
“Hmm,” Zelda pondered. “I don’t know, the reason any of us do anything? It feels good to be recognized. I thought, I’m not sure . . . it’s like I thought if I reached a certain point I’d have ‘done it.’ Reached my full potential or whatever. But,” she said dramatically as she slapped her legs and stood up, “that’s a myth. And if this weekend doesn’t go as smoothly as possible,I’m going to have a lot of angry investors out millions. And I don’t feel like getting sued. So . . .”
She was back in business mode. “Let’s make sure it goes off without a hitch, okay?”
Cierra smiled at her boss. She knew the vulnerable moment had passed but wanted Zelda to feel comfortable all the same.
“I know I only started working for you a few months ago, but I see the way your employees — hell, even the way your other co-founders — look to you. Everyone wants to be you. Or at least, to impress you. Including me, even. I know this trip is high stakes, but you have a great team . . . and you’ll have amazing food, I promise you that. You’re gonna crush this. There’s no way this summit won’t be a success with you in charge.”
Zelda laughed. “You’re a good person. Even if you’re a suck-up.”
“Thanks,” Cierra said, rolling her eyes. The moment was definitely gone. “Do you feel a little better?”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” She winked at Cierra with a sheepish grin. “Thank you.”
At that moment, a rustling noise coming from the basement diverted the attention of the women. Erik came walking up the stairs, carrying a small cardboard box and a backpack. He must have hurried to move out, Cierra assumed. Her brief sense of relief at the thought of not having to see him every day was quickly followed up with melancholy. They had grown close over the summer, and often his warm, steady company had helped pass the time. The thought of being in the Lawsons’ home without him felt like visiting an old school — where a place of comfort had now become lonely.
“Who’s feeling better?” he asked, and then paused slightly when he saw Cierra, equally surprised to see her there.
“Cierra’s just listening to me whine about the summit,” Zelda said, patting Cierra on the shoulder and standing up. She lookedoutside, where in the past hour it had gotten brighter. The storm had passed as quickly as it had come. “I think I’m going to go on a walk before getting back to work. Thanks for coming over, Cierra.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Cierra said, hurriedly getting her things together.
“Oh, no need to rush,” Zelda said, slipping on her alien-looking sandal sneakers. “Besides, I think your socks are still soaked. Feel free to borrow a pair of mine.”
In a low voice, Erik said, “I was actually wondering if I could talk to you?” Before she could protest, Zelda was calling out goodbye, leaving Cierra alone with Erik in the spacious living room. Her departure was so sudden that it almost felt like she’d left them alone together on purpose.
Cierra tilted her head to the side and bit the corner of her mouth. Erik was wearing a light blue T-shirt and funky athletic shorts — shorter than maybe the average pair. Being unsupervised with him felt . . . precarious. Erik Lawson was not safe for work.
“Hey, Erik,” she said, as if nothing was amiss.
“Hey, Cierra.”
“What’s up?”
“Well, we haven’t really talked since last weekend.”
“Sure we have. We were just talking, like, yesterday.”
At this point, Cierra and Erik were now in a couple of different group chats together, and out of habit, were still sending each other videos on social media, but without the normal daily banter surrounding them. Especially since her date with Julian, Cierra was being more avoidant. She didn’t want to stop being friends (or whatever they were) with Erik, but how was she supposed to tell Erik about her resuming things with Julian? Maybe he wouldn’t care, but it was awkward all the same.
“You know what I mean, Cierra. We haven’t talked about us sleeping together.”
When he raised the issue she had been so deliberately ignoring, she felt a sudden jolt. Like she had jumped into an icy pool.
